After months spent in meetings with the village elders as they argued over who should be the next Kazekage, when it was so damn obvious to anyone with a brain, left Kankurō wanting to shut himself in his workshop alone for the rest of the night. He swore that if he had to hear one more person question Gaara’s validity to take the role one more time, he was going to lose his mind. As if they weren’t the ones who had decided to place Shukaku into his little brother. As if they weren’t the ones who allowed his father to alienate him from the rest of them. As if they hadn’t treated him like a monster. As if he hadn’t—
Kankurō shook his head, forcing the thought away before it could take root. But he couldn’t deny his own role in Gaara’s isolation and ostracization. He was just as guilty as the elders—if not more so, considering he was his little brother. He could’ve told his father to shove it and stuck close to his brother. He could’ve helped him. If Naruto Uzumaki, a complete stranger from a village that they were trying to invade, could’ve gotten through to Gaara, then he could’ve done so a long time ago. But he didn’t, and now he was left trying to make up for over a decade of keeping his brother at arm’s length so that he wouldn’t end up dead by his hand.
Which was probably why he had found himself becoming one of his biggest supporters when he decided that he wanted to fill the hole that their father’s death had left. Better Gaara than him. Better the one who hadn’t abandoned his sibling when he needed it the most. How was he supposed to run a damned village when he couldn’t even stand up to his father? No, Gaara would be the best fit. And it’s what he wanted. Kankurō wasn’t sure if he’d be able to keep his mouth shut during Kage summits anyways. He was better off in the intelligence division. Let him be the grunt that protected his village and his Kazekage—let him protect his brother in the way he hadn’t when they were children.
He ran a finger along the top of his workbench, mentally going over the different parts that he would need to fix Crow. He had gotten distracted during his last mission, sloppy even. One of his arms was bent at an odd angle and wouldn’t respond as normal to his chakra.
His gaze fell onto the origami Kankurō sitting on the corner of his workbench. The pieces of papers had been folded with care, each detail of his own face staring back at him so clearly. Even if his own hair had been replaced with what appeared to be tentacles, spiraling out from his scalp. A small smile appeared on his face as he recounted the events leading to the Amegakure villager handing her art to him.
“It seems odd that you’ve already met the woman who raised me and I don’t even know what you look like under that hood and war paint.” The redhead said, her hip popping out to the side as her lips formed into a delicate pout.
He had just met the blue-haired woman, likely only over a decade older than the girl she had raised, even though they had just met only days before. The woman, whom she had introduced as Konan, stood with the girl’s teammates, peering over the railing as they watched some creep from Konoha with bugs crawling out of his skin battle one of Orochimaru’s pawns.
“Eh?” Kankurō blinked, looking down at her. “Why do you care what is under the hood?” Sure, women had tried teasing the hood off of his head before, but when he challenged them on it, they would normally begin musing about how they believed he’d look like his father. And the thought delighted them. They wanted him to look like their Kazekage—to look like the man they thought was honorable and good. He never gave them the satisfaction of knowing that their musings were right—except for their impression of who his father was.
“I don’t know,” she responded after a moment with a shrug. “Is it scary? Is it even hair?”
“Of course, it’s hair!” he frowned, pushing off the wall so that his body faced hers. That was a first. “What the hell else would it be?”
“Tentacles” Kurono decided with a firm nod. “Or spikes, maybe even a fin?”
“Tentacles?” Kankurō barked out a laugh. “You actually believe that instead of hair, I have tentacles growing from my head?”
“Anything could happen, Kitty.”
“What would that even look like?” he mused. Either this girl had seen some messed-up shit in her time, or she had an incredible imagination.
She grinned and stuck her hand out. Her brows knit together in concentration and slips of paper shot out of the pouch on the outside of her thigh, flying into her hand and folding in on themselves until all that was left was a paper rendition of Kankurō’s head. The only difference in her muse and her creation was that his hood was gone and where hair should be, tentacles shot out in every direction. She smiled at it, clearly pleased with herself, before handing it to him.
“This is the weirdest gift anyone has ever given me,” he admitted, staring down at it. Despite his words, he grinned down at the sheets of paper and his eyes shone down at his likeness. The rendering was exact to the smallest detail, even the slight indentions that represented his face paint were perfectly placed. It was the weirdest, yet most thoughtful gift he had ever been given.
Kankurō tilted his head to the side as he stared at it. He remembered putting the paper sculpture on his nightstand just a month before, and he hadn’t touched it since. He had looked at the rendering almost every day for the last ten months, and he knew that the original was made out of white paper, not this gray shade staring back at him. His head snapped up, dark eyes flickering around his bedroom when he saw movement and a splash of red from the corner of his eye.
He flexed his fingers, conjuring his chakra strings and letting them spill out across the room. “Just one question,” he started, turning slowly as he looked towards his bed, his strings snaking around the furniture and circling around a thin wrist, “what the hell are you doing in Suna?” He curled his finger, yanking the chakra string back towards him.
The string grew taut with the effort and a tanned arm came shooting out from behind the bed. A familiar yelp sounded out from the area before the owner of the voice jumped up from her hiding spot. Her strands of red hair splayed out around her with the motion. She rubbed the back of her neck, her eyes tightly shut as her lips were split into an apologetic smile.
“I asked you a question, you know.”
Her hand froze and her eyes slowly opened. Sparkling amber eyes slowly flicked over his body, taking in whatever differences she could see had transpired in his appearance since the chunin exams. He took the moment of her appraisal to look her over himself.
Not that she had changed too much. Same height, even though he had grown by five centimeters. Her forehead must have only reached his chest now. Her arm came back down to her side, her hand fitting onto the dip of her hip. Her middle finger rested lightly on her bare stomach, just to the side of her belly button. Her outfit had changed since the chunin exams, the black dress that had only covered the right side of her body was gone and replaced by a sleeveless, mesh turtle neck, covered by a gray vest that could hardly be considered an actual covering. White wrappings decorated her right thigh, right underneath the pouch she kept her slips of paper in. She wore the same shinobi-standard shoes, yet they were thigh high and had an inch of fishnets peeking out above them. Her hitai-ate was affixed around her bicep. Her sword was nowhere in sight, but he was sure she likely had stored it in a scroll—that weapon had been a deadly extension of her arm during the chunin exams and there was no way she had stopped using it.
She straightened up under his scrutiny, the movement making her chest stick out even more than they did when she was relaxed. His gaze stayed on the area, marking the way they heaved with her sigh.
“Eyes are up here, Kitty.” She snapped along with her words, her fingers waving up towards her face.
Slowly, he dragged his eyes back up to meet her eyes. He gave her a lazy grin as she rolled her eyes at him. He released her wrist from the chakra strings and drew them back to him. “You know, you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Ah,” she hummed. “That. Yes. I was nearby.”
“You just happened to be near Suna?”
“Uh huh.”
“Why?”
“Does it matter?”
Kankuro shook his head at her slowly. “I guess not.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “What are you doing in my room?”
She huffed loudly, her lips forming a pout once again. She bent over his bed and moved his pillow to the side, revealing a purple origami rendering of himself tucked up against the other pillow. “I was trying to hide sixteen of these, but I only managed to get three tucked away before you got back.”
“Sixte—” he blinked slowly as a surprised laugh fell from his lips. Right, it was May 15th. He had completely forgotten himself—he had spent all day so far surrounded by his family and the elders and not one person had even remembered enough to mention it. “So you came all this way and snuck into my bedroom just to hide origami sculptures of me for my birthday?”
“You only turn sixteen once, right?” she raised her eyebrows at him with a grin. “Besides, you spent my seventeenth with me, so I may as well spend your sixteenth with you.”
“Ah, but that was an accident so it—”
She cut him off by bumping him with her hip. “Okay, so you didn’t know it was my birthday when you sat down to have lunch with me, but once you knew, you did spend the rest of the day with me, even when the twins completely forgot.” She plucked the origami sculpture from his pillow and flicked out her wrist. The papers slid out from the palm of her hand and flew back to the workbench, folding back carefully into his rendering. “You should’ve been gone longer. It would’ve given me the time I needed.”
“Sorry that I came back to my room.”
“As you should be. Now, come on, show me around your village.”
Kankurō raised an eyebrow at her, letting his hands fall onto his hips. “It’s my birthday and you want me to escort your ass around my village?”
“Well, it’s not like I know it.” She huffed and rolled her shoulders back at him. “I’ll perch myself on your arm and make all the girls jealous.” She tapped her fingers alongside his bicep before hooking her arm in his. She patted the spot she had tapped and gave it a soft squeeze. “I’ll ooo and ah over these muscles and say how chivalrous you are.”
“I’ll show you around.” He shook his head at her and turned around, dragging her with him. “No need to ooo and ah, all right?”
“Deal.” She began to unhook her arm from his, but he held firm, keeping them connected. She grinned before gesturing in front of them. “Lead the way.”
Kankurō wasn’t even entirely sure what it was that she would want to see, but he guessed that he hadn’t known what she would want to do during the chunin exams on her birthday, but he had figured it out in the end. He led her out of the Kazekage palace and back out to the village. She looked around at their surroundings, that grin never once leaving her face. Her head was tilted back, just slightly as if she couldn’t bear to risk losing the feeling of the sun against her skin.
“Hey, Red?”
“Hmm?” she looked up at him from under her lashes, though she didn’t slow her pace at all.
“How did you get into the village? Or into my bedroom?”
“Ah. Yes, that one you should probably take up with your village. They didn’t even blink at my slips of paper flying over the gates and right to the Kazekage palace.”
“And how did you know how to get to my room?”
A light dusting of pink flushed up from underneath her shirt and up her cheeks. “Oh, I just kept going into rooms until I found it.”
“And how did you know it was mine?
She rolled her eyes at him, giving his arm a soft pat. “The puppets kinda gave it away, Kitty.”
“I guess they would,” he conceded quietly. “Just looked for the creepiest room you could find then, eh?”
Kurono frowned up at him, the first time since she had shown up in his room that she dropped that grin. “Your puppets aren’t creepy.”
His steps faltered and she halted immediately. Most people—especially girls—said that his puppets gave them the creeps. The majority of them would complain when he brought them out.
“Do you think Benihime is creepy?”
“Benihime?” he blinked back down at her.
She sighed slightly. “My sword, Kankurō.”
“Well, no.” Kankurō turned to fully face her. He didn’t care that they were standing in the middle of the walkway. “It’s a sword. It’s an extension of you, and it’s your weapon. There’s nothing creepy about it.”
“My sword has a second blade that pops out from the handle and decapitates my opponent,” she reminded him dryly.
Not that he could forget—he didn’t think that anyone could forget the way she had lost it during the prelims and killed that Otogakure nin she had gone up against. How when his neck was being held by her two blades, not quite meeting to decapitate him yet, her chakra had gathered exponentially and her eyes had turned into something that no longer looked human. How she had clawed at his face when he growled something out at her, and then the two blades had closed with a flick of her wrist. How she had thrown his head at the proctor and yelled at him about how he should’ve called the match. He thought that the Konoha ninja were going to lose their shit at her brutality—but she was right, the proctor hadn’t called the fight when she had clearly won.
Kurono slid her arm out from his and stepped in front of him so that they were facing one another. She poked the space between his pecs, narrowing her large eyes up at him. “Just as Benihime is an extension of my arm, your puppets are an extension of you. They are your weapons, your means of survival. Each one is crafted for a different purpose, and they help you defend your village. They help you survive your fights. So they’re not cute, who fucking cares? Missions aren’t pretty. Battle isn’t delicate. Personally, I’d rather have a weapon that makes my opponent want to shit their pants than one that will make them doubt my capabilities.” She made her fingers walk up his chest and neck, letting them land on his chin and tapping there. “And it makes you look pretty badass, if I say so myself.”
This woman.
Her bright eyes flicked behind him, catching on something over his shoulder. “Is that what the girls in Suna think? That your puppets are creepy?”
“Why do you thi—” he followed her gaze. A group of girls he had graduated the Academy with were gathered behind them, whispering to one another as they tried to discreetly look at Kurono and him. Not that they were discreet or subtle in the slightest.
Hands slid over his neck and onto his shoulders. With slight pressure on his shoulders, Kurono propped herself up on her tiptoes and brushed her nose alongside the side of his neck, right below his ear.
“What are you do—”
The redhead slid her fingers back down his back and let them fall against the tufts of Crow’s hair peeking out from his holder. Her cheek rested lightly against his neck and her fingers intertwined with Crow’s hair.
She clucked her tongue before sliding back onto flat feet, withdrawing her hands from him and his puppet. “You can do better than them.”
He blinked back down at her. His mind was still reeling from her touch. How long had it been since he had been touched with so much familiarity? It had been years since a girl had tried to touch him like that—all up until the moment she found out that Gaara was his little brother. Back then, it was because they were all too afraid that getting too close to Kankurō meant that they would end up buried under sand. Now, the few times he had a woman want to get close to him it was because she wanted to get close to Gaara.
“They were intrigued by the way I touched you until I touched Crow. One girl scrunched her nose up in distaste, another made a face as if she would puke.” Kurono sighed heavily, staring back at the girls behind them. She narrowed her eyes into a glare at them. “I can fight them for your honor, you know.”
A surprised laugh escaped his lips. He smiled down at her and cupped the back of her head in his hand. “I don’t need anyone fighting for my honor, least of all you, Red.”
Kurono frowned just slightly up at him before loosening a breath. “Fine. Fine. But don’t say I never offered.”
“I wouldn’t dare.”
At his words, her face split back into a grin. She tucked her arm back in his and began to drag him forward. “Come on, birthday boy, let’s get you some dinner.”
It was hours later, after Kurono had dragged him around to different shops and restaurants that he had been about a million times in his life, that he found himself sitting on top of the Kazekage palace next to the redhead. The sun had gone down about an hour before, around the same time that she had suggested that they find somewhere to just sit together. She told him to close his eyes as she dug her hand back into one of the bags she had procured at one of the shops they had stopped at.
“You’re not really going to make me—”
Kurono’s free hand swung forward, coming to cover his eyes. “Kurono,” he grunted, rolling his eyes at her antics.
“Just humor me!”
Kurono shuffled beside him before something was placed in his lap. “Okay. Keep your eyes closed, I need both of my hands.” She pealed back just her top two fingers. Her face was pressed close to his. “Kankurō!” she growled as his eyes met hers. “Close.”
He chuckled quietly, letting his eyes fall closed to appease the girl.
“Good boy.”
Kurono settled back down beside him, the sounds of her shuffling around filling the air. He felt a brush of heat near his torso just as she said, “Open!”
Kankurō opened his eyes, immediately focusing his gaze on whatever she had dropped onto his lap. A sponge cake sat in his lap, decorated with sixteen candles that were lit. He blinked slowly down at the dessert, trying to figure out when she could have possibly made the time to buy him the cake. He had been there the whole time, hadn’t he?
“Happy birthday, Kitty,” she whispered, lightly flicking on of the cat ears on his hitai-ate hood.
“When did you—”
A devious grin appeared on her face. Her fingers flexed at her side and slips of paper flooded out from her pouch on her thigh. They gathered behind the girl, coming together to create another version of herself. “Clones can buy baked goods when it’s necessary.” Both versions of the girl stared at him with shining eyes and bright smiles. And he just stared back. How did this girl, whom he had only met ten months ago, care enough to visit him on his birthday and take the time to buy him a cake? His own family didn’t celebrate his birthday. And he knew that he had bought her some food on her birthday during the exams, but they had been in proximity of each other. It was only natural that he would celebrate with her. But she had come here with a plan. Her teammates weren’t with her, so she wasn’t on an actual mission. She just genuinely wanted to be with him for his birthday.
Slowly, her clone disappeared into her pouch and her smile softened at him. The small bit of light from the candles lit up her face, softening her sometimes harsh features. She ducked her head, fixing her gaze back onto the cake in his lap. She cleared her throat quietly. “But you should blow out your candles before they melt into the cake. Don’t forget to make a wish!”
Right. The cake.
He tore his gaze away from her. He closed his eyes once again, and for once, he wasn’t sure if there was anything else he would wish for. He thought for a moment before thinking Don’t take her away from me before blowing out the candles.
She cheered loudly beside him, causing him to open his eyes to look back at her. She took the cake from his lap and made quick work of the candles. She tugged a kunai loose from her thigh holster and used it to cut the cake in half. She hummed to herself and handed him a fork. “Eat up.”
For once, he didn’t even try to argue with her as he dug in. They ate their pieces in silence, taking in the cool, night air. When she was finished, she leaned back on her hands and let out a deep breath. “Well,” she said after a moment, “now it’s almost just like my birthday. We’re just missing two things.”
They had sat on top of the Hokage mountain for hers, though he hadn’t gotten her a cake. Besides that, he wasn’t entirely sure what else she could want. He lowered himself onto his back and tilted his head to look at her with a raised eyebrow.
“Hood,” she said, extending her hand out to him, “gimme.”
“I believe that was your birthday gift.”
“Well, we’ll make it yours.”
“I don’t think you know how birthdays work. A gift is supposed to be something you want, Sweetheart.”
“Oh, I know. And I happen to know that you want to take it off.”
“You’re so sure of yourself there?” he chuckled, rolling onto his side to face his entire body to her.
“Mhmm.” She reached her hand out further, fingertips sliding into his hood. “I’ll put it on again.”
Fuck. He had liked the way she had looked with it on her head. He let out a defeated sigh and tilted his head towards her so she could fully drag it off of him.
He was rewarded with a soft smile in return before she tugged it off of him and plopped it unceremoniously onto her own head. She slid her fingers back up to his head, letting them lightly brush through his hair. She fixed the strands that had been flattened by the hood for a full minute until she let her hand fall back to her side, seemingly satisfied.
“What was the other thing missing?” he asked her quietly.
“Well, last time, we did almost kiss.”
How the hell had he forgotten?
Kurono tilted her head to the side and looked up at him, amber eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. He hadn’t intended for her to get emotional—hadn’t realized that a simple pair of earrings as a birthday gift would’ve brought her to tears. But there she was.
She immediately tugged the black studs out of her lobes to replace them with the dangly purple gems he had found. The studs were dropped into the pouch on her thigh without a second thought. She procured her kunai and brought it up to her face, checking out her reflection in the blade.
“I love them,” she whispered to him.
And then she lowered her kunai and angled her face towards his. She rested her hand on his chest and whispered a quiet, “thank you.” She began lifting her head closer to his own, just as he realized her intentions.
Without a second thought, he ducked his head down to meet her. His lips hovered over hers, just about grazing them. And then she squeaked out and pulled back quickly. “S-sorry,” she stuttered out. “I have to go!” and without another word, her skin peeled back into strips of paper that were sent soaring over his head and into the air, far away from him.
“Ah, right. What stopped you that time, anyways?”
She hummed quietly, looking away from him. “A crow.”
Out of all of the things she could’ve said, a crow, had not been what he would’ve guessed.
“A bird stopped you from kissing me?”
A quiet laugh spilled from her lips. She turned to look back at him with a shy grin. “There aren’t any crows here tonight. I checked.” She raised her hand and rested it on the side of his head just as she raised her torso up until their faces were close to one another.
“Oh?”
Kankurō cleared his throat just slightly. “Well, that’s good,” he mumbled.
Great choice of words, really.
She laughed quietly and gave his head a soft tug towards her. Her nose brushed the side of his and her lips inched closer to his, just slightly grazing his top lip.
“There you are!”
“Where the fuck have you been all day, Kuro?”
Two male voices yelled out from the ground below.
“But evidently, there are teammates,” she mumbled against his lips. She sighed and pulled back away from him, head tilting to look down at where the twins stood.
Kankurō inwardly cursed their appearance. He squinted down at them—not that he could make much out from their height. Just two blond heads and waving arms.
“Would you two just wait?”
“You said that you would only need a few hours!”
“Well, I needed more!”
“We need to get going, woman!”
Kurono grunted quietly and got to her feet. “Rain check on that kiss?”
Kankurō took a deep breath and stood up. “Yeah, of course,” he grunted out.
The redhead smiled just slightly up at him. She got onto her tiptoes and pressed a lingering kiss to his cheek. She slid his hood back onto his head, her lips still resting against his skin. When she pulled back, he could see purple paint smearing over her lips.
On instinct, he raised his thumb up and wiped the color off of her lips. “It’s a nice shade on you, you know.”
Her eyes danced under the moonlight. “Oh, I can imagine,” she mused, in a tone that implied she could think of a few places the color would look good.
She would be the death of him, he was sure of it.
Kurono patted his cheek softly, whispering, “happy birthday, Kankurō.”
“See you around, Red.”
She smiled brightly up at him and stepped backwards, right off of the roof of the palace. Just like that day all those months ago, her skin pealed back and the slips of paper flew down to join her teammates. He could see, just barely, as she threw her arms around the boys and began leading them down the road. He couldn’t see much, but he didn’t miss how after a moment her limbs withdrew from the two and her fingers came up to her lips, and they lingered there for the rest of her walk out of his village.
Kankurō fell back against the rooftop and stared at the few crumbs remaining of their cake. And he had to admit to himself, he had spent his birthday much better than he would have if he had just shut himself up in his workshop to fix Crow. And if he was being fully honest, he would admit that spending his birthday with Kurono had made it the best birthday he had ever had.