The One. She was always winning

P.S. A Sandstorm

"I had been living at home for two months. At first, Kankuro kept asking when I would make a decision, why I wasn't going to Mist, Leaf, Cloud, or anywhere else. But after he saw the third star on my fan, he stopped bothering me and tried to avoid me altogether. And that was for the best—I wasn't ready to answer anyone. Of course, I had already cried, vented my anger, and even demolished a couple of rocks around the Demon Desert. Then came apathy. I couldn't eat anything; I lost weight and turned pale. If it weren't for Gaara's care, I would have withered like a flower in a drought.

But gradually, I started to come out of it. Kazekage didn't inquire or push me. My brother was patient. He probably had many guesses, and I dearly hoped those speculations wouldn't lead the Sand into conflict with Konoha.

However, one day Gaara couldn't hold back any longer. On that day, I was sitting on the rooftop of his office, sipping cold tea and enjoying the warm desert breeze. In the distance, a reddish cloud loomed—a sandstorm was approaching. In a day or two, it would reach the village, and time would briefly stand still, allowing the villagers to embrace their loved ones, care for each other, and rest from their daily toils and worldly affairs.

My brother approached silently. He stood beside me, gazing at the orange cloud of sand and wind. Then he spoke.

"Temari, I need an answer. Mist demands you, and Konoha awaits you, making their intentions clear. I need to respond to them somehow. I... I don't want to pry into what happened to you there until you're ready to tell me. But I ask you to decide. You can accept Mist's proposal if you dislike Leaf. You can decline both, but make a choice."

I remained silent, frozen with the transparent glass in my hand. He was right, my wise younger brother. But I can't decide; I just can't...

"Temari, I'm counting on you," he said.

I nodded, knowing he wouldn't leave until he got an answer. He sighed, and the sound of his footsteps faded as he walked away. I sat there, unmoving like a statue, until I was alone with the wind. Tears streamed down my cheeks. I placed the glass on the tray and wiped the dampness from my face. Why, oh why, was this happening? I thought I had forgotten already! I had let go, buried it deep inside, almost killed all the emotions. But apparently, not all of them. Damn hysterics! I buried my face in my bent knees, letting the silent tears flow.

I returned home feeling completely drained. The mood to whine and pity myself didn't fade until evening. Surrounded by tear-soaked handkerchiefs, I fell asleep, still in the same clothes.

"Don't go," a hot whisper in my ear, and I melted, allowing strong hands to caress my body. Sweet exhaustion washed over me like a wave, and I dissolved like a puddle, reaching for him with a kiss, disappearing into an ocean of happiness. It was so warm! "Temari," he whispered, his lips grazing my neck, nibbling on my earlobe."

And so, I opened my eyes.

I found myself lying in bed, trying to calm my racing heart. The room was sweltering, the unrelenting sun piercing through the uncovered window. Annoyed, I leaped out of bed and hurried to draw the curtains. The storm was already at the village gates, and in another twenty minutes, the sun would be hidden for a week.

As breakfast progressed, the bizarre dream faded, but thoughts of Gaara returned. I knew I had to make a decision.

It was inevitable. So, I contemplated my options. Returning to Konoha was out of the question; I couldn't bear the thought of encountering him every day, looking into his eyes, hearing his voice—everything there was intertwined with him. Even working in Kiri would entail constant interaction with the Hokage's assistant due to our alliance. Damn it, I'd have to relinquish everything.

With these thoughts swirling in my mind, I braved the storm outside. Wrapped in a thick cloak, I headed to my brother's office.

Gaara was seated at his desk in the spacious, circular chamber. The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated the cluttered papers, creating the only bright spot in the otherwise dark room. Beyond the windows, the storm's darkness shrouded the sun, even at its zenith.

"Temari?" He glanced up from the papers, fixing his gaze on me.

"I've made my decision," I stated.

"Very well. What is it?" My brother interlocked his hands on the desk, his expression expectant.

I hesitated to articulate those words aloud. After all, I had always strived to be an exemplary figure for my boys, aiming to be the best, successful. Yet, now I found myself in disarray, prepared to relinquish my last hope for a successful career. Ultimately, I feared becoming a burden, an old maid, forever the irritable, hysterical elder sister—a failure. But there was no other choice.

"Gaara," I began, but before I could finish...

"Gaara-sama!" A breathless secretary rushed into the office. "There's a delegation from Konoha."

"Invite them," my brother replied in a succinct tone.

My heart skipped a beat. A delegation from Konoha? In the midst of the storm? What could have happened?

A figure cloaked in sturdy fabric entered my brother's office, with sand cascading off them as they walked on the stone floor. I couldn't help but stare, trying to catch a glimpse of the face hidden beneath the hood. Dreadful speculation rooted me to the spot, leaving me unable to move.

As the person removed the hood, I wished to disappear instantly, hoping not to be noticed. There stood Nara Shikamaru, tall with furrowed brows and a focused gaze, now in the Kazekage's reception area.

"Shikamaru-kun!" Gaara stepped away from his desk and extended his hand. "What brings you here? And in the storm too. Has something happened?"

"Good to see you, Gaara-sama. Everything is fine," Shikamaru bowed before shaking my brother's hand. "I have urgent documents from the Hokage." He produced two sizable scrolls.

Gaara accepted the documents and placed them on the table. "Thank you. Let me offer you some rest after your journey. I'm sure it wasn't easy," my younger brother responded hospitably.

"Thank you, but I have another matter to attend to," Shikamaru replied.

Meanwhile, I remained frozen, like a statue of myself, unable to utter a word.

"Of course, make yourself comfortable," Gaara offered, seating the guest in a chair. "Temari, we can discuss everything later if you wish," he added, addressing me.

"Temari!" Shikamaru exclaimed, rising from his seat. The dull sound of the moved furniture echoed through the office.

I remained silent, biting my lip. He better not say something inappropriate; I won't shy away from an international scandal if he pushes me!

"Don't go," he whispered, and I choked on the air. My knees weakened, and a wave of sweet turmoil washed over me. I could feel the blush creeping onto my cheeks, and then suddenly, I saw that infuriating smirk on his face, reveling in my reaction. No, I'll surely bury him!

Turning to my brother, he bowed low and said, "Gaara-sama, I ask for your sister's hand."

"What?" I snapped.

In his usual composed manner, my brother shifted his gaze from Shikamaru to me, his thin brows rising as if to say, "Aren't you going to explain anything?"

But explaining, justifying, or even discussing this absurdity was not something I intended to do. With a loud exhale, I stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind me.