Thanks to all the reviews/favs/follows! Especially to my anonymous reviewer, since I can't respond to you in a PM.

A couple people have said there's not enough Gaara/Ino. There's going to be a LOT more of the two of them from here on in, but I've been taking it slow on purpose because I thought that would be a little more realistic, at least at first. They're both busy people (especially Gaara), they haven't really had much contact with each other until now, and my interpretation of Gaara is pretty reserved. Now he's started to notice Ino, though, so they're going to get more bonding time.

But I am still going to include the other characters. They're too much fun to leave alone!

And now two quick things: 1) I apologize for the long, long wait, but I've been away on vacation and didn't have my own computer to work on the story and 2) I didn't just pull the title of this chapter from nowhere. There's a very minor reference to it all the way back in Chapter 3, if anyone's interested.

Gaara Gets a Girlfriend

The Back-Alley Butcher

Everyone in the household of the Kazekage spent the next two weeks in a blur.

Gaara was working on the usual deluge of paperwork and Very Important Things that flooded his desk, but he was beginning to feel like he was drowning under it all. There was just too much stuff for one person to do alone, and he was tired (literally and figuratively) of devoting his every waking moment to Kazekage-ing.

He regretted firing Temari and Kankuro now. He was still irritated with them, more so about how they'd acted after he fired them than about the personal ad, but he'd been thinking that he might have… snapped out on them, a little. (He'd heard Ino use that term in reference to Shikamaru one day, and he thought it was a very apt description of his behavior lately. Snapped out. It had a nice ring to it.)

The problem facing him now was how to get them back; he knew too much time had gone by to pass it off as a bad decision made in the heat of the moment, and announcing that they were both re-hired out of the blue would be insufficient. They would want an explanation. In one sense, there were about a million reasons he could give for his erratic behavior; vague unhappiness, a feeling of isolation, frustration with his inability to let them know what he needed from them as family, not as co-workers, low blood sugar because he'd whipped his rice into a wall instead of eating it that morning. In another sense, he couldn't explain himself at all, both because he didn't know how to go about telling them these things, and because he wasn't sure which of them even he believed.

Words and feelings could be very vexing.

The real truth of the matter was that Gaara was beginning to pull himself out of the funk of the last several months. He didn't know if he'd needed some time to brood, or some space from everyone, or the systemic shock of a near stranger trying to pal around with him, but he felt more like his usual self by the day.

There was also the fact that being in a bad mood all the time was positively exhausting. He had other things he wanted to do, like cultivate his cacti, which had become so neglected one had actually died, and go out to train, which he hadn't done in over a month, and maybe, if time allowed, walk around downtown with Ino again. He'd even heard a new joke from one of the Council members to tell her, since she seemed to like jokes: What's better than flowers on a piano? Tulips on an organ.

He didn't get it, but he thought she probably would since she was very knowledgeable about botany.

While Gaara was contemplating his family relations, Team 10 was spending their last two weeks in Suna getting serious about their mission. Shikamaru had received a phone call from Shizune one afternoon, inquiring into how the negotiations were going, and the realization that he had nothing good to report lit a fire under his ass. It was not the time to moon after Temari and take mid-day naps. It was time to rethink his whole bargaining strategy, time to look for a new spin on old information, time to force Ino and Chouji to stay up late at night with him to scour spreadsheets and past treaties in the hopes that they might find something that would give them an edge.

As a great poet had once said, it was Hammer Time.

It was just as well that Shikamaru was staying out of Temari's hair, because the New Year's prep had reached a level of intensity that was usually reserved for handling forest fires and nuclear meltdowns. Between hunting for suitable decorations and haggling with the local food vendors about bulk discounts, Temari and Ine had been scrambling to find a replacement musical group after their original pick decided to change genres from classical to synth pop, reworking the menu in light of the discovery that the Secretary of the Treasury's new wife was allergic to most everything except celery, and tearing apart the basement with a mounting fear that the good china had somehow been thrown away.

Ine did manage to score some very nice, reasonably priced sparklers from one of her cousins, and for a fleeting moment it had seemed like something was finally going right, but then he informed them that they were stolen.

They decided to keep them anyway. Cheap sparklers didn't grow on trees, and it wasn't like they could just go return them to Stolen Fireworks Depot.

The only person who seemed unaffected by the flurry of activity sweeping the house was Kankuro, but that was probably because he hadn't really been around in… well, in a while.

Chouji inquired into his whereabouts over dinner one night, and when Temari said 'On a mission' and Gaara said 'In the living room,' they'd both briefly wondered if he had moved out without telling them. Ine reassured everyone that this was not the case, as she saw him every morning on his way out the door. She didn't know where he'd been going or what he'd been doing all day, but he seemed in much better spirits lately.

No one bothered looking into it any further than that. Gaara had too many other things to do, and Temari, along with Shikamaru and Ino, was too preoccupied with her own secrets to worry about Kankuro's.

The three of them had held a tactical meeting the evening after Ueno Juro, number one private detective in Wind Country, came to visit. They were in a tricky spot, but they'd agreed that the best course of action would be to look up how much of a fine they owed, donate double that to the zoo, and keep their fingers crossed that that would be the end of it.

Temari and Ino (who'd been demoted from co-party-planner to Ine's assistant in the interest of avoiding kunoichi-on-kunoichi violence) took an afternoon off to visit the courthouse's legal library. There, they learned that the fine for damaging public flora was between $100 and $300. They also learned that since the night-blooming cereus was endangered, and the official flower of Wind Country, the plants had been granted a special protected status.

By removing it from its natural habitat, or its 'federal nature preserve,' they had committed a class E felony, punishable by fines of up to $7,500, twelve months in prison, or both.

Clearly, their plan needed some revisions.

In a bid to buy them more time to think, Temari told Ueno Juro that Ina had gone to visit family for several weeks the next time he came by. He was a bit put out to learn that she had skipped town after he'd left very clear instructions not to, but he just spouted off some nonsense about 'smelling a rat,' which made no sense the context of their conversation, and toddled on.

He still wore his trenchcoat and fishing hat, but had replaced the toothpick with an unlit cigar, still wrapped in plastic.

Temari would have been as willing to believe that Ueno Juro was from another planet as she was that he was a detective.

{}{}{}{}{}

Baki was a fine shinobi, a valuable Council member, an excellent teacher, and an all-around standup guy, but he had a bad habit of wandering into places unannounced.

His former students didn't complain about it much— he'd never complained about any of their little eccentricities when they were younger, and God knew they'd been an eccentric bunch in the day— but it was rather jarring to glance up from reading a book, or eating dinner, and realize that he'd let himself into the house again. Someone really needed to put a bell on him.

This history of inadvertently sneaking up on people was half the reason that Gaara always kept the door to his office closed. He got sick of shouting 'Enter!' five thousand times a day, but it beat jumping out of his skin every time Baki came up to get his signature on something. He rarely bothered to knock, of course, but at least the sound of the door opening gave some warning of his approach.

Some warning. Not always enough.

The door flew open.

"Kazekage-sama, I've just gotten-"

Gaara started and slammed one of his desk drawers on his finger.

Baki stopped in his tracks.

"I forgot to knock," he said. "I apologize."

Gaara flexed his hand experimentally. His ring finger looked more crooked than he thought it had just a moment ago. The day was off to a brilliant start.

"It's fine," he said crossly. "What did you need to see me about?"

Baki shifted his weight a tetch to the right, and focused his gaze on Gaara's left cheek. "I have some news," he said. "The Suna Wire just called me—they wanted a comment on the Back-Alley Butcher case."

He met his eyes again, and added almost apologetically, "His trial's been delayed."

Gaara's heart sank into his stomach.

The story of the Back-Alley Butcher would make a gripping made-for-TV movie one day, but he had been hoping to never hear another word about it again in life.

Seven months ago, the proprietor of The Soup 'N Sub Stop had fallen madly in love with his favorite hourly girlfriend, convinced her to run away with him, and whisked her off to begin a new life together in a sleepy little town in western Wind Country. They got a farmhouse and a produce stall in the marketplace, and probably would have lived out their days in wholesome, small-town bliss, had the lady's boss back in Suna not viewed her departure as a violation of their unwritten contract.

Lacking the time and resources to track his wayward salesgirl down himself, he'd reported her to the police as a missing person, most likely kidnapped or murdered by her best customer since he, too, was gone. The police had dutifully taken down the complaint, but declined to investigate on the grounds that the man who'd filed it was an obvious liar.

That should have been the end of it, but it was not. In a catastrophic mix of yellow journalism, group psychology, and the lingering fear all adults have of things that go bump in the night, what had started as a slightly unsavory love story turned into a witch hunt.

The Suna Wire reporter tasked with writing the crime blotter had been covering that same feature for three years, and was ready to move up in the world. Unfortunately for him, Suna had a real dearth of sensational crimes, and every day that someone did not rob a bank, he drifted further into obscurity. Just as he was getting ready to resign himself to a lifetime of reporting on drunk and disorderly behavior, he had stumbled across the manager's complaint in the police log, and been struck with an idea: if exciting stories would not fall into his lap, he would chase them down. Or make them up.

Ladies of the night were not known for their strong community ties, and so it wasn't unusual for them to vanish into the ether without leaving a forwarding address. Only a handful of these cases were ever brought to the attention of the authorities, but there were enough of them on record to spin into a special report in the Wire's Sunday edition. The evidence did not suggest that any of these disappearances were related, but the tone of the article certainly did, and by Wednesday morning, the people of Suna had lost their collective shit.

The public demanded drastic action. Both Gaara and the Chief of Police had tried to explain that the sort of action they had in mind was very expensive and probably unnecessary, but the papers had already nicknamed Mr. Soup 'N Subs 'The Back-Alley Butcher' (it was less accurate than 'The Deli Owner Who Might Be A Serial Killer,' but much snazzier) and no one wanted to hear anything to the contrary.

After a two month search, the Butcher had been tracked to the small town he was residing in, and Baki was dispatched to bring him in for questioning. Ironically, learning that he was accused of a crime he hadn't committed inspired him to commit an actual crime; upon being told by a helpful townsperson that a Suna shinobi had been asking after him, the Butcher had marched into a local bar, demanded to see the owner, and informed the gentleman that he was going to murder his face off. He was evidently under the impression that Baki had been sent by his ladylove's former employer, and that the barman had tipped him off to their whereabouts—an honest misunderstanding, but one with unfortunate consequences.

In the wake of his proclamation, a bar fight of epic proportions had ensued. Chairs were thrown, bottles were smashed, noses were broken, and the mayor, who'd happened to stop by for a drink, was stabbed with a corkscrew. Baki arrived before things turned tragic, but sufficient havoc had been wreaked for the town to request they be allowed to try the Butcher for assault and battery rather than handing him over to Suna, where he hadn't done anything even a little bit illegal.

Gaara had acquiesced with deep gratitude. He wanted nothing further to do with the whole mess by that point.

In the end, the episode had gone down in the annals of Suna's history as a cautionary tale about the power of the media, 'I'm going to MURDER YOUR FACE OFF!' became a popular catchphrase around the village for a few weeks, and the Godaime Kazekage would forever remember the incident as the second most traumatic event of his career, right after that time he'd died.

"I told them I would call back," Baki was saying. "I wanted to talk to you before I gave them an answer."

Gaara closed his eyes. He could feel a headache coming on. "Did they tell you the reason for the delay?"

"There's some sort of issue with a witness statement. They're working on fixing it, but the woman at The Wire didn't know the particulars."

"Very well." He drummed his fingers on the desk a few times, then realized he was copying Kankuro and stopped. "Tell them… tell them we have no comment."

Baki's eyes crinkled in dismay.

"I am assuming it is one of their witnesses they are having trouble with?"

"Yes. I think so."

"Then it isn't Suna's problem. A representative from the town can contact us if they need our help. Until then, we will not get involved."

There was a pause.

"Kazekage-sama," Baki said slowly, "correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe that Kankuro handled most of your official communications with the media. I wonder if it might be helpful to ask him to write a reply?"

Gaara narrowed his eyes.

"Not as your adviser, but as… a consultant, perhaps?"

"No," said Gaara, more harshly then he'd intended to. "I don't believe that will be necessary. You may call them back, and tell whoever you spoke to that the office of the Kazekage has no opinion on this subject."

He picked up a pen and grabbed the nearest piece of paper in effort to appear busy. "That will be all, Councilor."

Baki stood there for a second, looking surprised at this frosty dismissal. Then he let out soft puff of air and saluted.

"As you like, Kazekage-sama."

Gaara watched him leave the office. A queasy feeling was settling into the pit of his belly, the kind that often follows a nasty shock once the adrenaline begins to ebb away.

He had a crazy wish that his authority as Kazekage would allow him to declare certain topics taboo, and mentioning them in his presence could be punishable by… an afternoon in the stocks, or something.

If he did have that power, he'd be the first person out in the town square chucking rotten fruit at anyone caught dredging up the Back-Alley Butcher affair. It was a big cesspool of bad memories and painful realizations, and thinking about it now was like sticking a finger in a wound that had just begun to heal.

And speaking of fingers, the one he'd slammed in the drawer hurt like a motherfucker.

Gaara examined his hand, wondering how one could tell if they'd broken a bone. Inciting him to mental cursing was an ominous sign, surely?

{}{}{}{}{}

Ino dumped out her makeup case onto the edge of the bathroom sink, and, for the third time, began trying to pack it so that it would close.

She and Shikamaru and Chouji were going home for New Year's early the next morning, before the rest of the household rose for breakfast. They would only be in Konoha for around ten days before heading back to Wind Country, and while a part of her was eager for the break, part of her was dreading it.

She just knew everybody would be asking her what had happened with Tokuma. He hated gossip, especially gossip that involved him, and Sakura wasn't very adept at spreading news through the grapevine, so she was guessing most of their friends had only heard half the story. Her parents might not have heard anything, since she hadn't gotten any anxious phone calls from her mother.

And, of course, the Yamanakas, Naras, and Akimichis always celebrated New Year's Eve together, which meant she'd be spending her holiday hearing 'Oh, Ino-chan, where's that nice Hyuuga boy you've been seeing?' and telling everyone in three clans that her boyfriend had ditched her for someone else. There would be a great outpouring of sympathy, complete with awkward, one-armed hugs from people not generally in the habit of giving them and offers to set her up with single young men she had never seen or heard of. Concerned aunties would simper and sigh and command their sons to dance with her, and for one awful night, no one would treat her as the fun and lively social butterfly she was accustomed to being, but as an object of pity.

Ino was planning on drinking a lot of wine at the Akimichis' house this year.

She crammed her last lip gloss into the case, only to find that it wouldn't zip closed. She scowled. This was turning into the world's least fun game of Tetris.

As she began taking things back out, she ran through her mental list to-do list. She still had to pack her clothes, nag Shikamaru to pack his, and help Chouji finish up the mission progress report he'd be handing in to Tsuande-sama. Then she'd check back in with Shikamaru, probably end up stuffing his shit into a bag for him, and write out instructions on the care and cultivation of night-blooming cerei for Temari, who was going to look after the plant while she was away.

Personally, Ino thought taking it home with her would have only helped their case, since it would be harder to prove they'd stolen it if it was safely hidden in another country, but Shikamaru had told her she was spending too much time around criminals these days and insisted she leave it in Suna. He'd been getting obnoxiously ethical since deciding he wanted to be a professional diplomat.

That would probably help him in the long run, but not in this case. Ino had learned enough about the legal system to know that if she took full responsibility for stealing the cereus, she'd likely get less than the maximum fine and a stern talking-to. Life wasn't bad for first-time offenders. Unless they had such lofty ambitions as Shikamaru and Temari. Then they needed a spotless record, and even first-time offenses could mean unfulfilled dreams and a lifetime of resentment. Ino didn't think she liked that option.

No, the only thing to do was to turn herself in, but her accomplices were resisting. Having a felony on her record, even a really stupid one, would limit her career options, and she was only slightly more to blame than they were, and blah blah blah, she was kind of over it. Tsunade-sama wouldn't send her on any more foreign relations type missions, true, and she might suspend her for a while, but that would be the worst of it. Working at the prison was already punishment duty for Konoha's misbehaving medics, and that was where Ino wanted to be anyway. She'd be a-okay with being labeled a criminal. If she didn't explain the nature of her crime, it would even make her look cool in front of her patients. Things would be just peachy for Yamanaka Ino, Convicted Felon.

Shikamaru and Temari persisted in the belief that this was the Biggest Deal Ever, though, and she didn't know where to start looking for Ueno Juro on her own, so her hands were tied until after the holiday. They'd agreed to discuss it more then, and hopefully reach a consensus on what to do about him. To Ino, this arrangement just sounded like the perfect way to generate some pointless angst, but whatever. Worriers gonna worry.

Someone knocked on her bedroom door.

"Come in!" she called.

The latch clicked open.

"Yamanaka-san?" came a low, uncertain voice.

She tossed her bronzer into the makeup case and hurried into the next room.

"Kazekage-sama!" she said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

He was standing just outside the room, looking like he felt out of place and cradling his left hand.

"I hope I'm not intruding," he said, then stopped. He was staring at something beyond her with slightly widened eyes; Ino followed his gaze to the pile of underwear on her bed.

"Oh, don't mind that, they're clean," she promised.

His eyes went a bit wider. It seemed that wasn't the reassurance he was looking for.

"I was just packing for tomorrow," she continued, "but it's not a rush or anything. Did you need me for something?"

"I…" He cleared his throat. "I wanted to ask you a favor, if it isn't too much trouble. You're a medic, if I remember correctly?"

She nodded.

"I think I may have broken my finger." He glanced down at his hand. "If you have a few moments, I was wondering if you could…?"

"Sure! Come in and have a seat." She took a step back to allow him into the room, where he picked the chair next to the window and turned himself so that was facing away from the bed and heap of panties.

There was nothing at all unusual about casual acquaintances asking Ino for medical advice, but she had to say, she never would have expected it from the Kazekage. The guy had an entire hospital full of medics at his command, after all. He could tell them he wanted the hottest nurse in the place to come give him a bed bath ASAP, and she'd probably be in his office ten minutes later.

Suddenly, Ino had a mental flash of what it would be like if Jiraiya had become Hokage. Nasty.

"So what happened, exactly?" she asked, reaching for his hand. "I thought your sand shield could protect you from anything."

"From most things," he told her as she examined his injury. "I caught it in a drawer in my desk. I suppose even my sand couldn't move fast enough to stop it."

"Hmm." She sent a small pulse of chakra through his finger, mapping its internal geography by the way her energy filled the grooves and crevices of the bone.

"You have a hairline fracture," she announced. "It'll only take a second to fix, but it'll hurt. On the count of three, ready? One…two…"

She released a quick shot of healing chakra. The bone knit itself together; the Kazekage drew in a sharp breath and reflexively clenched his hand around hers.

"All done," she said cheerfully, patting him on the shoulder with her free hand. "Sorry I couldn't make it painless, but there are a lot of nerves in your fingers, you know. Oh, and it's still going to swell up, so you might want to get some ice to put on there."

He nodded, releasing her slowly. "Thank you."

"Not a problem."

He shifted in his chair like he wasn't sure yet if he wanted to get up and leave, or hang around a while longer. Was there another reason he'd come to see her, Ino wondered?

"So, are you ready for New Year's?" she asked, more for the sake of prodding him to speak than anything else.

The Kazekage lowered his gaze to the floor. "I suppose so," he murmured.

"I helped Temari and Ine work on your party," Ino supplied. "It's going to be really nice."

"I'm looking forward to it," he said in a monotone.

Somehow, Ino didn't quite believe him. The Kazekage was never a cheerful person, but the dark, distant expression on his face reminded her of a storm front blowing in, headed by the world's unhappiest rain cloud. It was plain to see that his smashed finger wasn't the only thing bothering him.

"Is something wrong, Kazekage-sama?" Ino asked, taking a seat on the bed. "You seem upset."

He glanced at her and then back to the floor. "I am fine," he said. "Nothing is wrong. I should be going—I hope you have a safe journey back to—"

He moved to stand, and Ino caught his sleeve with a surprised laugh.

"You don't need to run off!"she told him. "You aren't bothering me or anything, if that's what you're worried about."

He didn't pull away, but cast an uneasy look towards the door.

"Really," she assured him, giving a gentle tug back to the chair. "It's fine."

Ino was not easily intimidated—she wouldn't be hanging on to the ruler of Suna's clothing if she was—but the Kazekage had this certain look he would sometimes give people that made the fine hair on her arms stand on end. It wasn't an angry look, or an impatient look, or even a warning look; it was more like a test, like he could divine something very important about you just by holding eye contact long enough, and he turned that look on her now.

She couldn't tell by his expression what he was thinking or feeling. The way he stared, though, reminded her in equal parts of an enemy sizing her up from across the battlefield and a new lover seeing her nude for the first time, focused and guarded, brazen and loaded with meaning.

The sudden intensity of it was startling, and she felt an urge to tilt her head the way she always did when she posed for photographs, so that he would see her face from its most attractive angle. She refrained. That wasn't what he was interested in. What he was interested in she couldn't say, but she had the sense that she was being looked into rather than being looked at, so creating the illusion of a jaw line like a supermodel was irrelevant at the moment.

"Are you this familiar with everyone?" he asked.

It sounded like a genuine question, not a reproach, so she smiled and said, "Only with people I like, Kazekage-sama."

He gave a slow, contemplative nod and lowered himself to his seat, but didn't say anything further.

"So!" said Ino, clapping her hands in an attempt to dispel the heavy mood that had settled in. "What's bothering you?"

"I got some unexpected news," the Kazekage told her. He frowned slightly and began fiddling with the finger she'd just healed. "It wasn't bad news, per se. It… I suppose it caught me off guard. That's all."

Ino waited for him to extrapolate, but he was more interested in his impromptu physical therapy session. Did he want her to twist his arm for details? Well, lucky for him, he'd picked a confidant pushy enough to do just that.

"What kind of news?" she pressed. "I mean, can you tell me what happened, or is it top secret Kage stuff?"

He shrugged jerkily. "It's not a secret, but it's not important, either. It, ah…" He cleared his throat. "It reminded me of things I would prefer not to think of."

"Such as?"

The Kazekage glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I am not certain you would understand."

"Well, you can't be certain until you tell me, right?" Ino pointed out cheerily, folding her legs up on the bed. "And anyway, you came here to be healed, so anything you say afterwards is like, medic-patient confidentiality. I'm ethically bound to total secrecy."

His expression suggested that he knew it didn't work that way, but, haltingly, he began to speak.

"Some months ago, I… Suna had a… a scare. It turned out to be nothing, but the village became very…" He licked his lips, searching for the right words. "The village was very displeased with the way things were being handled. Some people felt the police had been derelict in their duties, and that I was… trying to help them avoid taking responsibility for their failure."

His mouth pinched into tight frown. "It wasn't true," he informed her. "They misunderstood. It was all over nothing, as I said. But the people of Suna were very angry, and they began to question my competence. And… and my integrity."

To say that Ino was surprised would be an understatement. She'd been expecting him to tell her Chizuko had written him, or he needed to find a date for the party, or something along those lines. They weren't intimate friends, after all, they were more like… break-up buddies. She wasn't sure if 'break-up buddies' were even a thing, but that was what they were, and she was going to look for ways to work it into conversations now because it should be a thing.

Anyhow. This was exceptionally weird. Fortunately, though, Ino had a high tolerance for weird.

"That must have been hard," she said. It wasn't a very profound insight into the situation, but he seemed to find it encouraging.

"It passed quickly," he assured her, speaking with more confidence than before. "Once the truth was discovered, the village seemed to forget it had happened. But I..."

He trailed off. When he started talking again, it was with great precision, like he was telling her something critically important.

"Being held in high regard by the public offers limited personal satisfaction, because as a whole, the public is very fickle. Individual people are more constant in their loyalties and affections, I think. Although there are some exceptions."

"That's true," Ino agreed.

The Kazekage nodded gravely. "Yes. But individual people are very difficult to form bonds with."

Ino wanted to giggle, because of course it was difficult to form bonds with people when you acted so cold and distant, and then she felt guilty, because she'd already figured out that he didn't know how to act any differently.

Poor The Kazekage. He sounded like he needed some support.

"Well, I think we kind of have a bond, don't you agree?" Ino asked.

She swore she heard him take in a breath, but she didn't hear an exhale.

"I mean, we don't know each other all that well, and we don't see each other very often, but… we wouldn't be here talking right now if we didn't have some kind of connection, would we?"

"…No. I suppose we would not be." The Kazekage's gaze was very solemn. He looked more like a man getting ready to declare war than a man chatting about friendship.

"Right. That's how you get close to someone anyway, you just start with something small."

Ino wound the end of her ponytail around her finger thoughtfully. "And I think you should relax more when you're talking with people," she added. "Like, don't worry too much about saying the wrong thing, or offending them, or making yourself look bad—just… you know, talk."

"Alright," said the Kazekage, frowning.

"What I mean is, if you act like 'The Kazekage'"—she included the air quotes here—"all the time, then that's all people will see you as. And political figureheads don't make great friends. Or boyfriends."

She cast him a sly look. Color rose to his cheeks.

"You should let people see that you have an actual personality more often. When we're just sitting around at dinner, for instance, no one will care if you say things that aren't all proper and politically correct."

She shrugged. "Most people like me just fine, and I'm always saying whatever dumb thing pops into my head."

His lip twitched. "So I've noticed," he said, almost shyly.

Ino clicked her tongue in disapproval and leaned forward to swat his arm. The Kazekage's eyes followed the trajectory of her hand all the way back to her side.

"I was following your advice."

"Good! Just don't get carried away with it."

"I didn't."

"There was a very clear implication there that I'm dumb. I'm pretty sure that's verbal assault. Now I'm a victim of assault."

"Under Suna law, you physically assaulted me. That's an imprisonable offense, you know." His gaze flickered with amusement. "The Kazekages before me have apparently been very delicate."

Ino laughed, less because of what he'd said than because joking around with Sabaku no Gaara was kind of surreal. He tilted his head away, but she thought she'd seen a true smile on his face for a moment there. There may have even been a flash of teeth.

"I am going to go get ice," he said, standing up. "Thank you for repairing my finger. And for…"

He hesitated for a split second, which was all it took for his usual stiff, shuttered air to descend on him once again.

"Thank you," he repeated. "I hope you have a safe trip back to Konoha and a pleasant holiday. I will see you on your return."

He threw one last unsettled look at the underwear on the bed and hurried out the door.

"Same to you, Kazekage-sama!" Ino called after him.

Left alone with her thoughts and panties, she let out a contented sigh. Was there anything more satisfying than dispensing sage advice to those in need? Sure, he'd pulled one of those 'two steps forward, one step back' moves in the last minute there, but he'd left in a marginally better mood than the one he'd come in with. That was progress. A full step of progress, in fact.

She would make such a kickass therapist.