Summary: Because she didn’t need a hero, and she never did.

Note: I am probably now going to be brutalised by Kawaii Kabu, my friend and an extreme Gaara x Hinata lover. I may also have my head ripped off by readers of some of my ongoing series, such as my thirty kisses challenge and some other thing I am writing which I very much doubt you care about. But this was a request, to write some Gaara x Ino, and I do not turn down requests unless they are the sort of pleading annoying thing that makes me want to hurt someone. I also wanted to try a new layout, which is always fun to me for some strange reason. Moving on.

Warning(s): Bad language, hinted Temari and unknown.

For: Ino-Gaara, here is your request. I hope you enjoy it!

Antihero

(The real hero is always a hero by mistake;

he dreams of being an honest coward)

like everybody else,

and

your heroes are people, and people are

flawed.

Don’t let that taint the thing you love.

She was a damsel in distress.

A drama queen, a loudmouth and a downright bitch. Yamanaka Ino was so, so many things wrapped up into one person. He could tell from the moment he saw her that something about her was odd though. Like the way in which although she had all those qualities that when found out about most beautiful people by their parents make them despair, she still managed to redeem herself in the strangest of ways. She made friends with the lowest of the low, the underdogs, all those so completely and utterly beneath her that it made no sense whatsoever.

But maybe that was why she seemed drawn to him? Sure, he wasn’t by any means weak, but it was an understatement to say that he was not in the slightest bit social. Well, he did have friends. He had Temari and Kankuro, his family. He had his student Matsuri, and on occasions his old teacher Baki acted in a somewhat friendly parental role after he overcame some of his issues. Last, though by no means least, Naruto was also his friend. Naruto had been the one to reach out to him, try and stop whatever destructive force had overcome him because he didn’t want to trust anyone anymore and he had succeeded. Maybe that was why although Ino seemed drawn to him, he didn’t mind. She was just as loud, just as boisterous and good intentioned as Naruto was.

Just like the situation was with Naruto, it was easy to love Ino. Sure, she was so many negative things and only one positive he could identify as likeable but she really was something else. Like a spider that could not be killed, no matter how many times he tried to crush it, she would spin webs to capture him. To entice him in like a fly, her gorgeous looks. It started with the hair. She’d flick it around, shimmering in the sun like spun gold. Then it was the hands. Her hands were smooth, not as calloused as those of a shinobi should have been. Then there were the blue, blue eyes that she possessed. Wide and beautiful, the colour of the sky in the light and the ocean in the dark. They were blue enough to drown in. He ignored it at first, the tempting seductions she laid before him, enticing him. But it wasn’t easy to ignore her, especially when she was the one assigned to escort you back to your home. For your own protection, of course. Like he needed it.

They had been with a Hyuga. Hinata, with her white ghostly eyes had seen enemies seven miles away. They did not seem aware of their presence, for Hinata’s eyes saw far enough for them not to, but they had Iwa headbands with lines scratched through the middle. It would be hazardous to let them live, knowing that if they caught up that taking them down might not be easy. So Ino had gone to work. Gaara had clearly shown his lack of belief in her with his blank expression as he watched her work, and she clearly found it funny. Hinata gave a small smile as she fell to the floor, eyes shut lightly and completely still. Moving towards her, Hinata had ignored Gaara’s worried expression. He clearly had seen her in work only once before at the chunin exams, and then she had been far less competent and much more childish. That was how he had formulated an opinion on her. Barely five minutes later, he could see smoke clouds billowing up from the place he supposed their camp was and Ino was awake again.

She’d said it was too easy. Hinata nodded, not even bothering to check if the job had been done and just continuing to walk. He had been stunned at the lack of concern the Hyuga expressed, and clearly she could tell from his slight frown. She had smiled softly at him, telling him he had no need to be worried.

Ino never made mistakes, never screwed up.

He had nodded, taking the information in as the Yamanaka strode in front of them airily. She didn’t seem in the slightest bothered by the fact he didn’t trust her abilities. He stared at her for a moment before it hit him. Her hands. The hands he had watched break chopsticks, heal and arrange flowers. They weren’t calloused because she had no need for weapons. He’d known it was too easy to like her, too easy to trust her, too easy to care about her. Too easy to want her more than anything. But what he hadn’t thought about was that she had changed from the little girl he saw in a fist fight a few years ago. She had still be remotely the same then, but barely. She had those qualities because she had never taken a life with her own bare hands. He didn’t know how, he could just tell. Her mind was her most valuable weapon, and she used it to tear others apart. He had seen her take over Sakura a few years back, which had seemed difficult. But now it just seemed too east for her. That was the reason. Because she didn’t need to kill with her own hands when she could use the hands of others.

He’d thought she needed a hero. Someone like Sasuke Uchiha, who had been courageous and just as good looking as her and strong, but he had been so wrong it was almost humiliating. She had just wanted him, just needed him to prove her more worthy, more loved and better than Sakura. A vain, stupid thing really but it was clear to him. She’d always been stronger than it seemed, always been beautiful and always had power. Always been the one in control, who didn’t need saving. She wasn’t a damsel in distress at all.

Because she didn’t need a hero, and she never did.

She was a Princess.

Princesses always got what they wanted. Be it a piece of jewellery, a purse, a dress, anything. Even a man in a position of great power. A man like himself. It was clear she wanted him from one incident where he had needed to buy some flowers for Temari, who had put a variety of them on the shopping list she had handed him that morning. Apparently being the Kazekage, he was the only one who had the benefit of having a vase of fresh flowers in his hotel room to make it not smell like pressed sheets and bleached carpets she claimed her room had.

So of course, of all the flower shops in Konoha, he had the misfortune to enter the one her family owned. Upon seeing her at the counter, he had immediately tried to turn around and exit the door before she could see him, but the jingle of the bell as he entered had her sit up immediately from her slouching position on the counter desk. He did not escape her sight quickly enough to make a getaway.

“Kazekage-sama! What can I do for you today?” She beamed, her saleswoman grin unnerving him. At least she was not following him down the street like he had seen younger girls doing, clearly paying no heed to the fact he could crush them if he felt like it. He probably would not get away with it, but if it was in a spar he might have got away with it. He breathed out a soft sigh, feeling that someday that week he was going to snap like he used to do a few years ago. Especially if one more person called him ‘Kazekage-sama’ who was around the same age as him. The title sounded so still and formal it was like people were suffocating when they said it.

“Please, just call me Gaara.” He told her, his defeat echoing in his voice. She nodded, a yes. Thank God that someone was going to listen to him, even if it was just her. At least he never had to tell Naruto, who never really had that much respect for authority for someone who was trying to become the sixth Hokage.

“So, what are you looking for?” Ino beamed, brighter than a ray of sunshine. He looked at the list in his hand, somewhat confused at what were flowers and what were other things with strange names. He never really went shopping, it was usually Kankuro. He saw it as a slightly demining task, to tell the truth, but there was no point in arguing with Temari when she wanted something. If there was someone more vicious than he knew the girl in front of him at that moment was, then it was his sister. She killed people with her hands using a giant fan, which was less cruel than what Ino did, but Temari was the boss in every relationship. Ino wouldn’t be, not in this odd thing of watching they had going and he tried to ignore. Because it was better not to fall into the trap that was Ino. Her games would have you hurt yourself, and hurt yourself badly at that from what he could tell. She made grown men cry.

Screw that, she could probably made Ibiki Morino cry.

“Well, I have a list Temari gave me. I don’t really know which ones are flowers, so would you mind taking a look at it?” He asked, trying not to sound like a strangled animal. She walked over to him without a word, and took the list from his hands. Holding it in her firm grasp, she scanned it over quickly. An ugly frown flickered on her face for a moment, but it was soon hidden by the smile again. She must have thought he didn’t notice it, because she carried on in the same fashion she had before she read it.

“Red carnations, red chrysanthemums and a single red rose? Interesting, very interesting. Why did Temari want these, anyway?” She asked, her voice suddenly not as sing-song as it had been before. He watched her face as she stared at the list, some sort of unspoken malice clear in her eyes. She had no reason to bear Temari ill intent, and it probably meant nothing anyway, so he answered.

“For her hotel room. She told me it smells like cleaning products.” He replied. The blonde girl frowned at the answer. That probably was not what she meant. He would have to look into that, otherwise it would puzzle him for a fairly long amount of time. Curiosity killed the cat, apparently, but he hardly saw how it would hurt to try and figure out someone like her. She chewed her bottom lip, looking slightly disheartened before she began to move quickly around the shop. He could only watch as she found what he needed, blonde hair flying softly in the air as she moved and blue eyes filled with fierce concentration. When it came to the red rose, she stared at it cautiously in her hand before laying it on the desk.

“Do you want them arranged?” She asked, making him smile. Princesses supposedly knew things like that. How to embroider, how to play instruments and how to press or arrange flowers. He moved towards the desk, looking at the flowers as she waited for an answer. They looked so harmless. So why did she seem so annoyed by Temari’s selection? It made no sense to him, none at all.

“Yes please, Yamanaka-san. Are you an artist?” He said, and she looked startled. She stared up at him, a sort of sad smile on her face. He briefly wondered if he had said anything to offend her, because that was the most human looking expression he’d seen on her face since he entered the store. It was so human, so gut wrenchingly pitiful he almost felt like he had been wrong again and she did need a hero to save her from whatever situation she, the damsel in distress, was stuck in.

“It’s Ino. Yamanaka-sama sounds like you’re talking to my dad. Flowers have meanings, arranging them is supposed to be an art. Do you want to try it?” She asked, her voice much quieter than the booming noise it had been when he entered. He stood awkwardly, hands playing with one another as he twiddled his thumbs. His bitten down nails were a sign of worry, and she could probably tell he was feeling odd about this situation for some reason because her smile became encouraging.

“What if I’m not good at it? I might ruin it.” He said, feeling his cheeks heating up in embarrassment. That sounded so pathetic. For a Kazekage, he didn’t seem very powerful and he didn’t sound like he was in charge. He knew that then. He probably had just made it sound like Temari was some sort of gargoyle, who was completely in control and would tear his head off if he got something wrong. His cheeks quickly became redder when she laughed, although it was not cruelly.

“No, you won’t. You can’t be bad at something like this, it isn’t possible.” She giggled, taking his hand and pulling it to guide him around the back of the desk. His previous embarrassment subsiding, he listened to her instructions carefully. It sounded more difficult that she made it look and sound, but she didn’t lose her patience with him when he asked her to repeat it. He felt somewhat thankful for that.

Even her corrections were not horrible, like they had been for those not so lucky to be privileged children in the academy when he had been much younger. Or so he heard. Temari would come home and tell his brother of terrible things that happened, kids beating up each other and teachers hitting students hard over the head if they got something wrong. He had never been to an academy because of his ‘condition’ but he was sure she would make a good teacher. Her soft hands touched his carefully to guide him to his mistake, to help him fix it. She didn’t seem bothered that he had killed with his hands (unlike her) or that he had been a psychotic child when they had first seen each other fighting. Just like he wasn’t bothered that her hands were so smooth, so unable to kill that it was a bit disturbing. Maybe it was because she knew that she was just a bit mental, like he still was. Social things were still never easy for him, but they were getting easier.

“See, it’s perfect.” She smiled as they finished. He managed a sort-of-smile back before he glanced at the clock. His attempt at a grin changed immediately to a frown. His siblings would wonder where he had been. Pulling out his wallet, he tried to pay her for what she had done. She looked surprised, and let out another harmonious tinkling laugh before kindly rejecting his payment for the flowers.

“No, no, don’t worry about it. You’re a guest of mine, and I enjoyed myself. Can I just ask one favour, instead?” She smiled, the smile that he much preferred. Dumbstruck, he nodded. There was no point in pressing the matter. He had seen her with her team mates training before, and he had learnt from that there was no trying to go against what she wanted. If she commanded you to put a kunai to your throat and slit your jugular, you did it. She didn’t seem to think that was too much to ask, not at all. It was quite simple, really. She always got what she wanted, regardless of what happened as a consequence of it.

“Ok.” He said, watching as she began to wrap the flower in a sheet of plastic and tie a ribbon around the bottom to hold it together. It was red, matching the flowers well. She was good at her art, making everything go together. Even down to the smallest detail. She noticed any problems, and fixed them immediately. Even though his arrangement, which she had so carefully guided him in making, looked nowhere near as perfect as those she had made which were on display around him. She was a strange one. Either that, or she just didn’t want to hurt his feelings at all.

“Tell Temari good luck with him.” She stated, making him confused. What did she mean? Was Temari hiding something from him? She had only needed those flowers for her room, just as she had explained that morning. Ino clearly thought otherwise, however, and Ino being the expert on extracting information and flowers that she was he had a strange feeling that she knew something that he did not. She was right in whatever she knew, though, he knew that on the day before they left Konoha a few days afterwards to head back home once more. The flowers that were supposed to be in Temari’s room were not in there, and it looked like they never had been in there to begin with.

He knew then that Ino wasn’t a Princess, either. Because whatever Temari had was what Ino wanted, and Princesses always got what they wanted. Be it a piece of jewellery, a purse, a dress, anything. Even a man in a position of great power. A man like himself. But then again, she didn’t seem to want him at all. She wanted whoever Temari had, not him. Regardless of those smooth touches, her hands on his, her real smile at him and her kindness. No, she didn’t want him. She wasn’t a Princess, and for that reason she didn’t need the random Prince charming in shining armour to come riding in on his white horse and save her. Because she didn’t want him to, not at all. Even if he wanted to save her. Even if he was starting to want her more than she could ever imagine.

Because she didn’t need a hero, and she never did.

She was a hero.

That was why she’d never needed one. Heroes were for those who couldn’t fight, couldn’t kill to survive and couldn’t show pity on those who truly deserved it. Heroes were the defenders of those who deserved to be protected, had the compassion to help those who needed them and those who were full of love. But heroes never chose to be heroes, because if you chose to be a hero then you rarely actually cared for your cause. Ino hadn’t chose to be a hero, hadn’t chose to fight for her people in a way where she would have to harm old friends among other things. But she did, although he knew she had dreamed of living her life as an honest shinobi who rather regretted some of the things she did. Sometimes, he knew just like all other shinobi, she would dream of a life where she could rest at home, cowardly and safe, because the next mission she accepted could mean the end of her life. But she did not.

She chose to fight on, and she chose to do it defending his home. She chose to defend Suna, although she had no reason to and it was not her job. She had been there when Sasuke Uchiha and his team attempted to take it for their own, to cease any interference with his plans to attack Konoha. The walls of Suna were ten miles apart where two of the gates were. Ten miles. Ten, long, far away miles. That was how far away she had been when he had taken on the raven haired man who had once been the man he dreamed she would need for a hero. That was how far away she was when Gaara had managed to paralyse him. That was how far away she was when she took over his body, and drove him insane. Taking him back to Konoha wasn’t pretty, either. Not even when he was knocked out. She’d helped Gaara save Suna, and in the eyes of his people that made her a hero. Even if she didn’t want to be.

That night, before she left, he had sat with her as she watched the stars in the sky over Suna. Apparently they didn’t have that many stars in Konoha, the skies were foggy with smoke coming from the small factories they had on the outskirts and the steam from Ichiraku (which Naruto so adored) prevented her from seeing most of them. So when she went to Suna, she liked to watch the night sky. It didn’t bother her that she was alone, sitting on top of the roof of a hotel in the freezing cold desert night. It never had. But maybe, just maybe, him being there comforted her a little.

“All along, you never needed a hero. But you became one. Ironic, really.” He said. She smiled before looking to him, the smile he liked that she always gave him now, and it was probably the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He’d thought her so many things, being completely wrong, not knowing so much about her. Underneath, she was so stunning. Beneath the snipes at Sakura, the loud voice and fashionable attire she was such an amazing person he barely understood how she could seem so different on first impression.

“You’ve known all along that I’ve never needed a hero, from day one. Even if you didn’t admit it. You know now that I don’t want to be a hero, either.” She said, cold breath fogging up in the night sky. Her hair stood up on her arms and the nape of her neck, and he saw from the corner of his eye how she tried to hide the small shivers that ran though her body. He didn’t understand why she just hadn’t bought a blanket up there or something, seeing as she had watched the stars in the same spot before. Or, so she claimed. Not that he doubted her words. He had learnt to tell when she was lying, anyway.

“But I haven’t figured out why you don’t want to be one, yet.” Gaara said, sounding intrigued. He was well aware of it, too. She was smiling at what he said too, because her grin widened into a cat that got the cream look. She must have found it amusing how although he seemed to be able to figure her out so easily, he didn’t know one thing that she thought was so obvious. He waited for her to laugh at his idiocy, but she didn’t. She was far too kind to him, sometimes. He didn’t do much for her, yet she treated him like a much thanked dear friend.

“Because heroes are people.” She carried on smiling as she watched the stars, and suddenly it clicked. It all worked, and it was so obvious he almost felt ashamed for not figuring it out before he had asked her the exact reason. She wasn’t perfect, not by any means. In some situations, she had acted as more of an antihero. It all fit into place, like a puzzle without any missing pieces. He breathed in sharply as he stared at her.

“People are flawed, and that shouldn’t get in the way of anything. Correct?” He asked, and she grabbed for his hand quickly. Moving towards him and staring up at him with her eyes that he had thought were blue enough to drown in so long ago, and the long pale shimmering spun gold hair that drifted in the wind behind her, accentuating her pretty face. Once again she was becoming a temptation, a sweet seduction right in front of his eyes.

“Yes, exactly.” With that, she kissed him. Her soft pink lips melded with his, and surprisingly he didn’t find himself wanting it to stop because he was scared of ruining what sort of strange friendship they had. Infact, he held her closer, feeling the spun gold hair in his hands and knowing that those stunning blue eyes somehow managed to look at him differently to how most other people did, and he was content with that. It was ok, as long as she wanted him like he wanted her for so long now.

He suddenly understood it though, why she liked him. Why she kissed him. Why she might have been able to love him. Just because of that answer. Because he did what he felt what was right, not what he was told. He was by no means a knight in shining armour, or some sort of Prince who could rush to her rescue whenever she wanted him to. He wasn’t a hero, because he was human, because he was a person and because he had done bad things in the past. But that was ok, because she didn’t want someone, perfect, she didn’t want a hero.

Because she didn’t need a hero, and she never did.

Not when she could have an antihero.

Not when she could have him.

Do not make me explain this any further. The quotes sort of melded together at the start gave me the entire idea, the first by Umberto Eco in Travels in Hyperrealityand the second by Randy K. Milholland in Midnight Macabre. Criticism is enjoyed, especially about the layout style I have used, et cetera et cetera as long as it is not about the pairing. Because seriously, it is just a pairing. No reason to threaten me over it like I have seen some people do to other writers. It is highly immature. Anyway, I hope that Ino-Gaara enjoyed this, as it was quite a challenge to write! I may have ruined Gaara a tad though, I think.

Reviews are loved. :)