Day 1
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He certainly hadn’t expected this.
Even in his recent months spent as the newly elected fifth Kazekage of Sunagakure, there were still few of Gaara’s people that approached him so boldly, and even fewer foreigners. It used to be his quiet and foreboding presence that kept others at a distance, but now that he’d softened around the edges, it was his grand title and honored standing that sat him at a pinnacle other’s thought beyond approach. In the past, eyes were cast down in fearful respect, now it was done with wise recognition.
Either way, direct gazes avoided him all the same, and it felt no different.
But this…this was different.
Sakura Haruno stood at the front of a gathering of fresh-faced genin all lined up in neat rows under the morning sun. She was center of them all and held the front spot in her line; a tall stance, shoulders squared, warm light shining on pale skin, eyes bright and facing straight ahead, straight at him.
On this arid and calm desert day, Gaara had arrived at the training grounds of Suna not twenty minutes prior; he had guests to welcome.
The bi-annual chunin exams were about to get underway, and Sunagakure had been chosen as the host city. It had been nearly two decades since the exams had been held here, and Gaara was keen on showcasing their growth in not only their military, but in their infrastructure as well. The passing of his father shifted the city’s focus from exponential military growth to more domestically centered focuses; improving education and academy access, repairs to their extensive systems of aqueducts that quenched the thirsty populous, upgrades to their medical facilities, and much more.
His people were happier, daily hardships were easing back just a little, and the city certainly breathed differently now than it had in his childhood. He was proud, he wanted to boast their accomplishments with confidence and pride, but now he suddenly felt…anxious?
“Could you repeat that, Sakura?”
“I said I’d like to spar,” she said again without hesitation, the slightest hinting of an upturn pulling at the corner of her lips. Her eyes hadn’t left his, his tongue was going dry, and just as that time in the forest, he was unshakably locked on those bright, dazzling emerald eyes.
He recognized those stood behind her as Shikamaru’s old team, it seemed that Sakura made the perfect match for them without Sasuke and Naruto to join her, but the incredulous look plastered across their faces was mirrored by most other genin in attendance. Here she stood; in line with all the other contestants, still at the bottom rung of the ladder through the ranks, and she had asked the Kage of the Wind nation for a spar.
He had only just finished his welcome to the contestants, encouraging them to make themselves at home and use any training grounds permitted to them as they saw fit, and hadn’t yet offered to answer any questions when she had stepped forward. It was as if no one else were present when she flashed a polite smile his way, thinly veiled by that mischievous look in her eyes, and asked if he could spare her some time. It was such a direct question, from effectively the last person he’d assumed would ask, that he paused his speech, his words failing him for a moment.
“I apologize,” he began, taking the opportunity to practice his manners. “But I am a busy man.”
She shrugged, still holding his eyes with her own, and he couldn’t tell if the sun had kissed her face just a little or maybe the heat was getting to her, but she looked slightly flushed. “I can be patient.”
He remembered she and Ino pit against each other before; an unfortunate matchup that perhaps tempted them to pull their punches against old friends. He had certainly found it mundane and unexceptional to watch. Either way, her strength may have been lacking at that time, but her tenacity had been clearly on display when she’d intervened between himself and Sasuke. It hadn’t stopped him, but it had slowed him down, clouded his thinking, and he was sure it was ultimately what saved the Uchiha’s life that day.
But she stood before him today a rebuilt and remade individual; there was confidence to her poise, an elegance to the way her high chin emphasized her neck, and her captivating gaze contained a knowing quality that left echoes of intrigue resonating through his body. She had seen him fight, she had seen him break bones and draw blood, she had even faced him and lived to tell the tale. Not many in her position had been able to say the same, and now she was essentially asking for a rematch in front of everyone.
He hadn’t mean to, but he heard himself reply, “All right,” before continuing with his welcoming address. The genin all bent an ear to listen, but he could tell that her public and very unconventional request had them distracted. It was a good thing he had gone over his talking points once again before starting, he was getting rather distracted as well.
Those eyes hadn’t left him, sparkling in the sunlight and bejeweled as they were, and no matter where he put his focus on the gathered crowd, he could still feel the weight of them on him. Where his palms getting sweaty?
It didn’t matter, he was finished with his piece as the head seat of the city and turned them over to Shikamaru who had come to explain the layout of the exams. Stepping aside, he was freed from her gaze as she gave the new speaker her attention and was allowed to more comfortably observe the curious happenings of his morning.
She stood just as proudly before Shikamaru as she had him, no longer the shuddering leaf that had been frightful of so many of their opponents before. His mind’s eye didn’t have the clearest picture of her back then, he’d found her so overlookable when outshined by her teammates, but he couldn’t overlook how inviting her figure had become, or how he found that he preferred the length that was returning to her hair, and how mature and defined the roundness of her face had gotten. She stood a bit taller now, they all did, and he could tell the definition of her muscles reflected the work she’d done to allow such confidence worn across her face.
Could a few years really change that much?
He’d been stared down quite enough since the start of the genin address, and he wondered how different he looked from her perspective. Had his stature reflected the improvements he’d undergone? Did his face look more mature as well or, now a little self-conscious, did he still look to be a boy wearing his father’s robes? With no necessity for it, he’d forgone most of the usual strength training done by those in their profession, but his fight with Lee had incentivized him to train otherwise; was it noticeable at all? He suddenly found himself conscious of his posture, second guessing the expression he wore, and found it difficult to keep his eyes from sliding back to this unexpected distraction.
Even after she had glanced his way, catching him mid-stare, he’d only looked away for a moment.
Soon, too soon given how he’d yet to find the words, the genin were all dismissed and gradually went their separate ways. A few senseis had approached him with a question or two, gratitude for hosting the exams, the typical formalities he’d been expecting, but in truth he’d only half paid attention to anything they said and whatever he strung together in reply. Again, he could feel those eyes on him, an itching in the back of his mind that made his pulse throb in his throat and an unfamiliar anxiousness to settle in his limbs.
Of course, he shouldn’t have been surprised when she walked up to him the moment he was free, her first words just some regurgitated pleasantries that the others had already said. Perhaps it wasn’t the approach that had surprised him, maybe it had been how favorable he found that sweet and warm scent of vanilla that clung to her skin, or how it was his own heart that was beginning to race against his chest.
He'd nodded to her gratitude, though by the look in her eyes he could tell that she knew he hadn’t listened to her words, nor looked her in the eyes as she said them. Something about the way her lips moved when she spoke to him was diverting his attention. “What are you hoping to achieve?” he asked, perhaps sounding a little standoffish due to his very real apprehension.
She shrugged, her eyes holding his gaze captive. “I just want to see,” she offered innocently enough, though the knuckle crack he’d heard from her gloved hand was anything but.
The clear challenge in her eyes stirred him. It had been months since someone provoked him like this, and they hadn’t been keen on his abilities like Sakura was; their arrogance had been born of ignorance and Gaara couldn’t help but wonder what her’s was born from. He tried not to smirk with his next words, though he failed, and returned her challenge in kind. “See how long you’ll last trying to hit me?” he goaded, the dignified tone of the Kazekage melting away as if to playfully deride her.
“No,” she refuted firmly, though that sly expression still blessed her features. He could tell now that the sun hadn’t been the thing to kiss that color across her face, it had been a subtle flush across her skin, one that grew deeper when that smirk of his had slipped. Flushed or not, she was still fiery. “To see how long it takes me to hit you.”
Another unexpected outcome of his morning, another smirk he felt pull at his features, and this time she did break her gaze away from him, brushing her hair behind her ears and attempting to downplay her blush.
“Well,” he said, his tone casual. “Let’s go.” He began walking off to a more distant end of the training grounds, an area he specifically hadn’t set aside for visitor use.
She followed quickly after him, he could feel the steps she took atop the sandy earth, and he wondered how someone as petit and light of foot as her thought to approach him with such a bold request. “I thought you were a busy man,” she said, not wanting to sound displeased but wanting to convey that, yes; she did in fact know that he had other – more important – things to attend.
“I am,” Gaara agreed, looking over to Sakura who came to walk in line at his side. Again, he tried a smirk, wanting to see if it gave her skin that same rouge as before. It had, and she’d yet again avoided his eyes for a second. “But I don’t believe that you’re a patient woman.”
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