Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto

She sat on a hill overlooking the town she was born and raised in. She thought of its inhabitants, the ones who always spoke to her politely solely because she was the mayor's daughter. She thought of her professors, who never gave her a hard time because they were afraid of her father. She thought of her small circle of trusted friends, who have stayed by her side through thick and thin without being blinded by her family's wealth and reputation. Finally, she thought of her family, the very reason why she was sitting on the grassy hill in the first place.

As their image flashed through her mind, she felt water well up behind her eyes. For the first time in her life, her will wasn't strong enough to suppress the flow of tears surging down her face. She remembered the incident which transpired just a few hours ago, which instigated her to leave town and seek refuge in her safe haven—a spot in the hill that was abundant with wild grass. It surrounded the area like a fortress and protected her from the curveballs life threw at her.

She continued to sob and didn't stop until she heard a faint cough. She immediately wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to glare at whoever it was that caught her crying. A boy her age was staring back at her. He stood awkwardly to the side with both hands jammed inside his pockets. The first thing that caught her eye was his hairstyle: his hair was tightly pulled back into a pineapple-shaped ponytail, seemingly unaffected by the law of gravity.

"You got a problem, pineapple head? You like what you see?" She growled as a way of masking the weakness he had seen in her just seconds before.

He rubbed the back of his head and let out a tired sigh. "I don't have a problem with being called a pineapple, but I don't wanna hear it from someone who has four."

Her cheeks reddened when she realized her own hair was gathered up into four similar shapes, because it was the only way to tame her unruly mane. "Besides, I don't enjoy watching women cry," he continued to say.

"Then what are you still doing here? Leave!" She practically yelled. She hoped it would scare him away, but his face remained expressionless as he gestured to where she was sitting.

"This is my favorite spot for watching clouds." He positioned next to her and laid on his back. With his eyes glued to the sky, he was oblivious to the flabbergasted look he was getting from her. "Don't mind me. It's a drag, but you can cry if you want."

She scoffed but chose not to say anything. It was annoying to have him around her space, but at least his obnoxious interference stopped her from crying. Instead of feeling sorry for herself, she laid down next to him—partly curious about the charm of cloud-watching, partly because she didn't feel like leaving—and relaxed when she felt the soft grass against her back.

Her teal eyes watched as the fluffy white clouds lazily floated over her head. They look so free.

"That's what I like about them." Puzzled at his words, she looked over at him. "You were speaking out loud," he pointed out.

Oh. She hid her embarrassment by asking, "How often do you come up here to watch clouds?" She knew she was being nosy and she was also aware of how stalkerish it made her sound, but she didn't care all that much. It was simply curiosity.

If her question bothered him, he didn't show it. His expression remained blank and unreadable. "Whenever I have the time," he vaguely said. "Is it my turn to ask questions?" He surprised her by saying.

She narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "It depends. What sort of questions are we talking about here?"

"Why were you crying?" Blunt and straight to the point. She had to admit she sort of liked that. But of course she couldn't let him know she was impressed for even a second so "None of your business." were the words that spilled from her mouth.

He shrugged it off like he wasn't interested enough to bug her about it. She observed him for a few seconds. His indifference bothered her but, at the same time, also relieved her. Her intuition told her that this person was no gossip and only asked questions when he's truly concerned. What made her so certain? She didn't know. All she knew was she was completely at ease with a guy she'd met barely an hour ago, and it wasn't a bad feeling.

She shifted her body until she was in a comfortable position before speaking. "My mom died after giving birth to my baby brother." He didn't react, not even a twitch, but she knew he was listening. "My father never forgave him. Gaara, my little brother, grew up without knowing a parent's love. Kankuro, my other brother, and I figured we had to raise him up ourselves, but my father didn't even allow that." She clenched her fist as the memories flooded back.

"He warned us not to go near him or else there would be consequences and left him with a caretaker. He never calls him by name either, only referring to him as "it" or "monster". Kanks and I were just kids then, we didn't know what to do. Our mom just passed away and father busied himself with more and more work. I-I knew it was wrong to treat Gaara like he wasn't part of the family. I'm his big sister, I should have gone against his orders and took care of Gaara, but I was too scared. I was a coward." She closed her eyes so that she didn't have to see the look on his face. For all she knew, his indifference could have easily turned into disgust.

"He's 15 years old now and always getting into trouble. He cuts classes, smokes, drinks, and thinks everything can be solved with his fists. Kankuro and I try to talk to him, but he shuts us out. I don't blame him because we're probably the shittiest siblings anyone can have, but we try. My father doesn't care what he does, as long as he doesn't have to look or speak to him. I've tried everything to help him, but nothing worked. I'm already an adult, but I feel like I'm still a helpless four-year old." She almost couldn't believe she was dumping her problems on a complete stranger. But she was and, even if she wanted to, she couldn't take it back.

"Earlier today, I had to pick up Gaara from school. He..." she pursed her lips. "threatened his classmate with a real knife and was seen by a teacher. When I asked what made him to do such a thing, he got this crazed look in his eyes then he said since he'd killed mom already, killing someone else was no big deal." She nearly choked on the words, but she forced herself to continue.

"All I could think about was what a failure I had been as a sister. He believed mom's death was his fault, even though it wasn't. He just snapped, right in front of my eyes. I-I was afraid of what he might do in the future, then I became ashamed of thinking that. What kind of sister am I?" She was tearing up again, but this time she didn't allow the tears to flow.

He sat up and turned towards her, serious brown eyes boring into hers. "You should be ashamed, because instead of being afraid of him, you should've been consoling him." His words stung, but she willed herself to listen. "This kid spent his entire life thinking he was a mistake, a sin. All he wants is someone who needs him in their life. Why do you think your mom sacrificed her life to give birth to him? Because she loved him that much. He needs to know that. He needs to know that someone loved him enough to give up everything for his happiness. He needs you to tell him that nothing is his fault. He needs you and your brother to tell your father what a douchebag he is. The four of you need to sit down together and talk like a family. Air out all your dirty laundry, try to understand each other's circumstances. It will be difficult and it will definitely take time, but if you work at it you'll be rewarded with results. Every small step counts."

After listening to him, realization dawned to her. Every word that came out of his mouth hit the mark. She didn't realize how selfish she was until that moment. She should've been reassuring Gaara from the start. Instead, all she thought about was her image as a big sister. She never thought of what he could be feeling. But because of this stranger's advice, that was going to change very soon.

He laid back down again, and in a much gentler voice he said, "By the way, that doesn't excuse your brother from threatening to kill someone. After your family talk, I'll leave it to you to punish him accordingly and to make sure he apologize to that person."

With that said, he turned his attention back to the clouds. She was amazed at how he could offer advice one minute then act like nothing had happened the next.

She poked him in the shoulder. "Thanks. You helped me realize a lot of things." He just shrugged in reply. She returned to her spot and realized she wanted to know more about him. "So what's your story?" She asked not-so-subtly.

"I don't have a story. Besides, even if I did, it'll pale in comparison to yours." He yawned. He was either bored of their conversation or was truly exhausted. She didn't care either way.

"That not true," she insisted. "Everyone's story is significant, because that's the life they're living. Tell me what's yours, it's only fair since I shared mine after you asked."

He sighed loudly and turned to his side. He could never win against stubborn women. He learned the hard way that it was best to just surrender and give them what they want.

"From where I'm from, my family is famous. My dad is the head of a large hospital and I'm next in line to inherit it. But I'm lazy, stubborn and a jackass." He smirked, as if it was something he was proud of, but it slipped away a second later.

"Everyone I know keeps telling me to shape up. I shouldn't waste my potential. I shouldn't put shame to my family. I've always known about the responsibilities I have to take on someday, and I thought I was ready. But outsiders can't understand how much their expectations pressure me. It stresses me out. My dad understands because he had gone through the same thing when he was my age, but the difference is he got over it and I'm not sure I can overcome it like he did." The more he spoke, the more emotional his voice became. He blew a large breath and continued.

"My dad...he's smart. Way smarter than I am. He thinks work is a drag, but he knows how big his responsibilities are so he never cuts corners. I'm not sure I can do the same. I don't have the confidence. I'm afraid the mistakes I'll make would be irreversible and my ancestors' legacy would end because of me. I...I'm not as great a man as my dad and I don't think I ever will be." He looked pained as he admitted his insecurities. She never would have thought that a guy who looked like he couldn't bother would be so hard on himself.

Staring at his pitiful state, she wanted to say something, anything, that would help him like how he helped her. What came out of her mouth were, "You should have more confidence in yourself. You don't know what will happen if you don't try. Instead of sulking around worrying about other people's expectations, why don't you grow a backbone and exceed your own expectations? Man up, you're not a child so stop acting like one." Her harsh words rang loudly in his ears. He stared blankly into space and she worried she had said too much. But a moment later, he flashed her a wide, boyish smile that made him look younger than his years and said, "You're right. I didn't know I needed those words until you've said them."

She blinked in surprise. Everyone she knew, even her closest friends, would complain about how blunt she was and here was a guy, an almost complete stranger, taking it all in stride. It shocked and pleased her at the same time.

He felt a long-term burden being lifted off his shoulders. She hit the nail on the head. Caring about what other people think was unlike him. He'd always lived comfortably and naturally, but because of the responsibilities he had to take on one day he'd almost lost sight of himself.

As he was lost in his own thoughts, she took a good hard look at the boy she had just met. It's strange. If she had seen him on a regular day, if they hadn't met the way they had, she would have thought he was a slacker who would never amount to anything. But after talking to him for almost two hours, she realized he was intelligent; not the usual booksmart type she could find anywhere in the university she was attending, but the unconventional type you would look for if you had problems and needed advice. Even though his behavior suggested otherwise, he seemed like a caring friend who would genuinely be concerned about your well-being. And even though he seemed like he never worried about his future, he was actually the one who worried the most.

Sometimes we think we know someone, but in reality the only things we know are the ones they choose to show us. We judge them at face value but we have no idea what their heart is like. She mused to herself. Her father was the same way. He only saw Gaara as the monster who killed his wife, he never made the effort to really know him, to understand him. But did she? She had no idea what her father went through after losing her mom. But it broke him so much he never treated his children the same way again. She recalled a memory of the past where her father was a normal man who loved his children like any father would. Deep down she knew that he was still the same man inside, but the sorrow of losing someone precious to him drove him over the edge. And Gaara. He must be suffering the most. The poor boy didn't deserve the treatment he was given. It wasn't his fault their mom died. He's acting up because he wants attention, he just wants his family's love. Pineapple head's right. We do need to have a talk. As a family.

When all conversation eventually diminished, they spent the rest of the afternoon staring at the clouds in silence, and the only sound was the swish of the wind against their faces. Neither wanted to admit how at peace they were in that very moment.

As the sun began to set, a look of panic settled in his face. "Shit! I didn't realize it's already so late. My mom's gonna kill me."

For the first time since she sat down on the hill, she laughed. "A boy your age is still afraid of his mommy, huh?" She teased.

His breath hitched as he watched her laugh. He couldn't help but stare and secretly admire her beautiful smile. For a moment he was in a daze, but he looked away the moment he realized he was acting foolish. "Sh-shut up. You don't know how scary my mom is when she's mad." She laughed harder at how defensive he was being.

"Whatever, mama's boy." He could only groan at the troublesome nickname. Somehow, he knew she was going to call him that every chance she gets. But then an unwelcomed thought made him pause. Was he ever going to see her again?

She stood up and looked at him expectantly. "Well, aren't you getting up? You have to leave, so I'll see you off as a thank you for today."

He shrugged like it was no big deal, but got up to follow her anyway. Before long they had reached the intersection connecting two separate towns. An awkward silence enveloped them, as they thought of a way to say goodbye.

"So," she started nervously. "Which way do you go?"

"Left."

"I go right."

For a moment, they could only stare at each other. She burned his image into her mind—brown eyes, the curve of his jaw, the ridiculous hairstyle—so that she would never forget the face of the boy who changed her perspective in a single afternoon. He tried to do the same, but decided it wasn't needed. No one else would put their hair up into four bundles the way she did. If he ever caught a glimpse, he would immediately know it was her.

"Then," he hesitated to say. "See you later."

He started to walk away, but before he could go far she called out to him. "Hey! What's your name?"

He turned his head and answered, "Shikamaru."

"I'm Temari. You better remember it!"

"Tsk. Troublesome woman. I won't forget." With those final words, he strolled away without so much as a glance back.

As Temari watched his figure disappear into the shadows, she wistfully whispered under her breath, "Shikamaru. Perhaps we'll see each other again."

—Fin—