those who are strong

in the back of his throat he sighs. "our cover..." yes, their mission was to handle a goliath with high potential for another to awaken within the area. or at least that is the cover for that as well.

13s speaks in a way that confuses his chips. a type e isn't supposed to sound that way. "yes, but what that real target is, i'm not quite sure. i've dealt with a lot," androids, machines, even his own, "but this configuration."

The flight unit drops him off a few feet away from 7B, and hops off in a manner that is only visually similar to a Scanner's nonchalance. "We need to deal with the goliath first, either way."

7B has a lot of questions, he notes. Even between models, the variation on personality types remains. He shrugs, "I can lift the restrictions by entering the right mode. Just like how you can unlock your hacking capabilities in a pinch."

more so than usual. when they land he takes a few heavy steps forward. "don't waste all your energy doing so, i won't be carrying you back."

"understood." so he will have to protect him. "lets handle the goliath normally."

he breaks into a sprint, cruel blood oath at his side and ready to be drawn the moment a machine was sensed. "this isn't you usually deployment is it?"

most importantly, he must leave far too much of his sand behind for his liking. the welcome weight of the gourd on his back is gone, his hair tickles against the tips of his eyelashes and he wears an expression of contentedness.

shikamaru's movement draws gaara at his side and where the other spots something, tenses ever so slightly - weight is suddenly upon him and his legs nearly give out beneath him. the rough texture of his fingers hold shikamaru's arm securely and cerulean eyes search and search for what he's supposed to say.

the memories that populate in his mind aren't good ones, all faces unfortunate enough to have been seen last in his younger years. he pulls at the ones he thinks he needs.

his left arm holds around shikamaru's waist to keep him up and steady as they walk just barely past their target and stop where the man is still within eyesight and earshot.

"you really over did it tonight," gaara begins as he leans shikamaru against the wall. "it has been some time, but you can handle yourself a bit more reasonably."

Best case scenario, he'd marry a plain girl, raise a plain kid, and live out the rest of his plain days tending to the deer in the Nara forest. Worst case scenario, he'd die a stupid, meaningless death.

He slumped back against the wall Gaara had leant him against, still playing the part of a friendly drunkard despite not knowing what fate had in store for him in the next five seconds.

By some grace, Gaara was playing along. Shikamaru cracked a smile—a small one, affirmative, hidden from their lead's wary eyes.

"Maa, that's the difference between you and me. You think too much of what others think of you, but me, I'm still the same ol' ..." He rambled off a few arrogant adjectives, all while watching their guy's hand. It stuttered then fell to his side when he turned the corner. A telltale cough came a moment later.

Clear.

Shikamaru waited a bit more before straightening up, his expression now pulled firm. "Can't get a good read on him."

His gaze remained at the corner. It turned onto a quieter road lined with trees—no doubt a perfect setup for an ambush. That was, assuming their acting was utterly unbelievable.

that said "... 'think too much of what others think of you.'" is that an honest read slipped between the cracks of an act or something that the people who go out like this actually think? "what's the alternative?" he asks as he ushers them closer to the bend.

Without a word, Gaara knows she’s nervous. Stupid! Of course he knows; you’re almost yelling it at him! If her mind had a physical presence, it would beat Sakura senseless.

of course, he should expect no different an answer that that. it is how he replies in kind that should change. the circumstances are different this time. there will be no need, he thinks to say, but there is no certainty that such will be the case.

this time, they're a little more prepared. the conversation stifles like the embers of a campfire and for once, he finds himself a little uncomfortable with that silence. "are you still nervous?"

“…Y-Yes,” she whispered, almost to herself, before looking up at him. Her fingers twitched nervously in front of her chest. “I… I’ll go with you.”

She hesitated for a moment longer, then carefully placed her hand in his.

Her eyes flicked around the path ahead, the faint tingling of her Byakugan reminding her that something about the road didn’t feel right. Shadows shifted oddly between the trees, the wind rustled through the leaves in uneven gusts, and the forest seemed quieter than it should have been. Even so, she followed, trusting the red-haired shinobi beside her.

“…W-we were delivering supplies, right?” she murmured softly, her voice almost a whisper. “T-to Sunagakure…?”

She hesitated, chewing her lip lightly, unsure if speaking aloud would make her memory clearer or only make her confusion more obvious.

Her eyes flicked up at him again, searching for reassurance. “I… I just want to make sure I’m… Not mistaken,” she admitted, voice quiet but steady enough to be heard.

The road stretched ahead, winding between trees whose branches seemed heavier than usual, as though weighed down by some invisible tension. Her steps slowed slightly, reluctant but careful, and her hand tightened ever so slightly around his.

"you are not mistaken." he is not mistaken. "what they are... they're just supplies." it's an inconsequential detail, not enough to be rendered within his mind.

it sounds right.

it sounds right, and yet.

In front of them stands a figure. No matter how hard Gaara looks, he cannot make out the features of their face but his brain pieces together that they must be smiling.

"■■■■ ■■ ■■■■ ■■■," they garble out and yet the words still make sense. " ■■■■■ ■■ ■■ ■■■'■■ ■■■■■■■ ■■■■ ■■■■ ■■ ■■?"

The realization that this kid is the Kazekage hits him again. Should he be speaking more formally? Was he too relaxed. It wasn't like him to overthink things but now he might not be able to help it.

Maybe he should put his cigarette out...

Asuma takes another drag, and shifts his gaze back to the house their target had escaped into and then to another man walking down the street. The same one Gaara had undoubtedly seen. He was wearing a backpack, gripping one strap with his hand so tightly as if he was expecting someone were to yank it off his shoulder. In his other hand, he was carrying two grocery bags. When he approaches the house with the red roof, the same one their target entered, he knocks as if making his presence known and then enters without a word.

his eyes never leave the man. to knock and enter without a response back, that alone is cause for concern. but considering the likelihood that the 'mission' of their targets is already well on its way, he wants to waste no time.

"no." pressing his knee into the rooftop and gathering a bit of sand into his hand, his eyes stay on the house. "it looks like more will gather."

"i don't think they'll be dangerous. before, there was a far more intimidating presence to worry about." shambling about in the dark, he can't help but wonder where he is now. would the proctor's tell if asked?

his nose scrunched up at the scent of the cigarette and he continues forward. "if they're talking our weapons, then stay close to me." this time he won't let shukaku show himself.

She's back again, the woman that has become Asuma's personal nightmare, skipping alongside you as you hand over the caltrop. If you could see her face, it feels almost like she's smiling at you like one would a friend as she takes the Caltrop from you willingly. "A gift for me Gaara-kyun? If Higanbana wasn't my bestest friend in the world.---" The Squawk of a raven, unamused as you hear a shout of "WE LIVE TOGETHER IDIOT." before Tanamo continues as if totally oblivious to the unamused raven. "* --- you could be! I need these for my toys!*"

he shouldn't hide how much hearing that makes him happy, even if he is giving over what he should be using to better navigate this forest… maybe- a squawk cuts off his thoughts and a small smile crosses his lips. "does it matter who's the bestest? as long as we help each other, that's what friends do, hm?"

A smile like sunlight, that's how others have described it, yet its almost a pity you cannot see it as she suddenly tilts her head, a pair of fox ears moving with her that would seem almost real if not for the telltale porcelain that creeks. "Very good! You understand the will of fire. keep up the good work!" Suddenly she skips away… backwards the way you came as she disappears before your very eyes

He agreed that they didn't seem entirely dangerous. More playful and cryptic than anything else but they were also given choices between walking into a trap or sacrificing one of their ninja tools over during their encounters. Hopefully whatever they gave weren't used against them. "I guess we'll find out. Either soon or once we reach the summit." Asuma shrugs, shoving a hand into his pocket as they walk. "Seems like Tanamo likes you, at least."

As they continue their trek towards the summit, Asuma is unsure of how much time has passed. The forest is dark, quiet, and he can't shake the feeling that they're being watched yet if they encounter other shinobi besides the proctors, the jounin can't say he'd be entirely surprised. It was important that they remain alert. And yet... The rest of the hike is uneventful, even as they reached the top.

the summit meets them before he's realized it, he wonders if tanamo is partially responsible in her own way. he does wish he could thank her properly rather than with weapons. now, their mission...

where asuma approaches to help, the hairs on the back of gaara's neck stand in edge and as the woman fades into a plume of smoke, his sand has barely enough time to soften the blow off metal to the back of his head.

it's a whine, the childish sort he hasn't made since he recalls looking up at yashamaru. "i'll be-"

fine???

as he takes a step forward, once again his sand swirls along him for reasons he can't begin to understand. when he looks down, a kunai has fallen

A feminine form appears where the old woman once was. One that is recognisable instantly as the Proctor, Tanamo. Even unable to see her features you can sense she intends to play with you, watching every action taken as you've fallen into one of her many many traps. "A treat for me Gaara? Oh you really shouldn't have~"

were kunai's tasty? he's never thought to put one in his mouth but all that's fallen from him was the one on his side. why did it fall? he doesn't know, only that sand seems to have knocked it from its place judging by the grains on the handle. "…will it make our path forward easier?"

If she had ears they'd almost be raised in pleasure as you notice a fox dart out from beneath her skirt to retrieve the Kunai. Her head tilts, as if weighing your word and the unconscious offering before a hand outstretches, reaching past where sand would so quickly raise to defend. You feel lighter for the touch of the nail infact, as if it's relieved some striking burden. "Aaah who knows? Maybe if you find us your offering might reward you~"

A rustling sound echoes all around you, accompanied by the strumming of harp strings before you notice her, a woman who's vibrant black hair flows behind her like waves. Tanamo lurks in the distance, watching waiting before you hear a click as she darts forward with nails extended. There is no kindness, no gentleness in the almost deranged laughter that spills forth from beneath the mask before you find yourself with a fresh wound upon your face from how deeply she seems to have scratched. "Too slow, Too slow, no wonder we were told to spread how bad your aim is A-su-ma." Yet, before she leaves you notice how her gaze falls on Gaara, the friendly little energetic wave from her. "Hi Gaara! Bye Gaara! Thanks for the Kunai~"

The proctor moves too fast for him to react. Maybe it's a jutsu, maybe it's the way his skull is throbbing from the impact of the frying pan but amidst that, one of the next things he feels physically is a stinging pain on his cheek. A hand reaches up to wipe a thin line of blood away, and he takes a short moment to stare at it before taking a deep breath in and then out. Before he got angry, he needed to remind himself to stay calm, though he wasn't sure how successful he would be depending on the answer Tanamo gave him. "What's your deal? You like making fun of me?'

Tanamo stops and twirls on her foot, almost comically overextended as her gaze falls onto you, listening to your question with amusement before deciding to answer it with a reference that only Asuma could truly understand. "He already told you, the minute you got out he was telling the nearest ANBU how badly you missed cute little Byakko-chan~"

Another deep breath, in and out. Damn Kakashi. Asuma grit his teeth for a moment and the frustrated look faded into a small smile. "It was his plan first. Poor execution on account of all that wind." The jounin pauses, pulling his lighter and pouch of cigarettes from his pocket. Kakashi hadn't been at the edge of the forest before the test began. He didn't know where the other was but… "Can you give him a message for me or is that against the rules?"

Her head tilts, bringing a gloves hand to cup the bottom of her mask before she decides, or perhaps she's wondering if Higanbana will scold her again. Yet, she nods, watches you as if waiting for you to speak rather than leave her standing here twirling on the spot. "Tanamo-chan can pass a message to him!"

"Awesome. Tell him I'll get him back for that." In what way that was, he didn't know yet but he'd figure it out. His tone is more playful than threatening and the small smile that formed a moment ago becomes a little more mischievous to reinforce his words.

She laughs, she actually laughs loud and hearty that you get the distinct impression that you have, in truth, managed to properly impress her by taking this as seriously as she likes. "He says if your mouth keeps making bets your brain can't cash you owe him a new book, bye-bye~" And in a flourish she's gone as fast as she appeared, skipping off to Inari knows where.

"i don't think they'll be dangerous. before, there was a far more intimidating presence to worry about." shambling about in the dark, he can't help but wonder where he is now. would the proctor's tell if asked?

his nose scrunched up at the scent of the cigarette and he continues forward. "if they're talking our weapons, then stay close to me." this time he won't let shukaku show himself.

She's back again, the woman that has become Asuma's personal nightmare, skipping alongside you as you hand over the caltrop. If you could see her face, it feels almost like she's smiling at you like one would a friend as she takes the Caltrop from you willingly. "A gift for me Gaara-kyun? If Higanbana wasn't my bestest friend in the world.---" The Squawk of a raven, unamused as you hear a shout of "WE LIVE TOGETHER IDIOT." before Tanamo continues as if totally oblivious to the unamused raven. "* --- you could be! I need these for my toys!*"

he shouldn't hide how much hearing that makes him happy, even if he is giving over what he should be using to better navigate this forest… maybe- a squawk cuts off his thoughts and a small smile crosses his lips. "does it matter who's the bestest? as long as we help each other, that's what friends do, hm?"

A smile like sunlight, that's how others have described it, yet its almost a pity you cannot see it as she suddenly tilts her head, a pair of fox ears moving with her that would seem almost real if not for the telltale porcelain that creeks. "Very good! You understand the will of fire. keep up the good work!" Suddenly she skips away… backwards the way you came as she disappears before your very eyes

With no clear path towards the summit of the mountain, he supposes the only way to navigate there would be to keep their eyes on the horizon. Yet in the midst of the trees and thick branches, they find a clearing filled with flowers of almost every color imaginable. Some of them remind him of the flowers he knows Kurenai likes: red poppies with yellow and black centers. If he weren't so suspicious of the old woman sitting in the center of the clearing, he'd pocket a couple to give to her when this test was over but...

Instead he pushes those thoughts aside as the smell of the food is carried towards them by the gentle breeze. It's familiar, comforting, and initially there's an alarm bell in his head that warns him not to approach the old woman sitting among the flowers but he pushes that thought aside and closes the distance anyways. 

Before Asuma can open his mouth to call out to the woman, she fades in a puff of smoke and is carried away by the wind, and just as he's about to continue walking, something makes an impact with the back of his head with a loud clang. His ears ring, and he stumbles forward as his hands immediately come up to cradle the back of his head. "Ow! You've got to be kidding me." His brows furrow, and he shoves a hand into the pocket where he keeps his cigarettes. It was tempting to light one, to distract him from the reverberating sound in his head but he shouldn't yet. "We need to keep our guard up. You okay?"

where asuma approaches to help, the hairs on the back of gaara's neck stand in edge and as the woman fades into a plume of smoke, his sand has barely enough time to soften the blow off metal to the back of his head.

it's a whine, the childish sort he hasn't made since he recalls looking up at yashamaru. "i'll be-"

fine???

as he takes a step forward, once again his sand swirls along him for reasons he can't begin to understand. when he looks down, a kunai has fallen

A feminine form appears where the old woman once was. One that is recognisable instantly as the Proctor, Tanamo. Even unable to see her features you can sense she intends to play with you, watching every action taken as you've fallen into one of her many many traps. "A treat for me Gaara? Oh you really shouldn't have~"

were kunai's tasty? he's never thought to put one in his mouth but all that's fallen from him was the one on his side. why did it fall? he doesn't know, only that sand seems to have knocked it from its place judging by the grains on the handle. "…will it make our path forward easier?"

If she had ears they'd almost be raised in pleasure as you notice a fox dart out from beneath her skirt to retrieve the Kunai. Her head tilts, as if weighing your word and the unconscious offering before a hand outstretches, reaching past where sand would so quickly raise to defend. You feel lighter for the touch of the nail infact, as if it's relieved some striking burden. "Aaah who knows? Maybe if you find us your offering might reward you~"

he is the strongest after all, the most deserving -

he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. ducked behind the doors like this, the moment he notices any movement, he will strike. temari's steps have gotten louder as has her breath.

they need to get out.

A tile seemed quite loose; they were both small enough that they could fit through it, should they need to. With a step, she stood on top of one of the desks, balancing on the tip of her toes, as she pushed the tile off the ceiling.

Dust fell away in a cloud, filling her lungs and dusting her hair and clothes. Barely, she choked back a cough, eyes stinging. This was their way out.

She felt eyes boring into her. She looked at the door and saw them, the eyes of a stray cat in an alleyway.

"And what's this in my pocket?" he cooed into the microphone, voice rattling and unmelodic, a scrape against their ears in tandem with Hiruko's dull fingertips against the door as his own hand dug out the key that he had found, stolen from the cloaks in the instructor's lounge.

"A key to unlock any door? Suppose we will find out. Or maybe it will lock-down whatever-is-in-there-"

Faint knocks, a beat at a time with each of his words, until the distinct click of the key in the door punctuated the sentence for them. The implication was clear - now what will you do?

Sasori hummed, a faint little mocking sound as he turned on his heel and moved along the hall to the north, tail clattering against the hall in an echoing loop with every step, until the form of him and the raucous noise simmered out into silence, the oppressiveness of absence.

the noise of their their waxes and wanes, one moment it feels as though that form hovers his back and aims to strike his sternum and the next he struggles to believe that such an existence is even there.

temari has seen him, he's not just some figment of gaara's mind. "..." when he turns to see a ceiling tile gone and temari slightly dust covered he knew he didn't need to say much else. he'll follow her lead and once they return, they can deal with their "ally" with others present.

what is worse than being followed is when suddenly, you aren't. the proctor's footsteps can still be faintly heard outside of the classroom, but gaara has lost track of their third.

the pencil handed to him is held within tiny pinpricks of sand and he dares not face temari in the moment as he contemplates their next move.

isn't he being a little childish? the kazekage should not be faltering this much. "to draw less attention, we need to split up."

The mice we trying to wait him out. It spiked his irritation to an intense degree as he clambered back into Hiruko, felt the security of the fitted plates of its construction wrap around him and the way the world altered through the doll's eyes, pinning the aperture until he was pleased with the amount of moonlight it let in. The scroll in his sleeve still spilled that jutsu from its edges, though the inconvenience it had offered him was minimal at this point.

Would they prefer to die in here, then?

If they would not be the sort of shinobi that their village trained in propriety - power and resilience in all things, intelligence through any situation, not the sort of rank cowardice these children were displaying, the fear that their precious Kazekage-sama had shimmered with at the mere sound of his voice - then he would put them out of their misery.

Hiruko's bulk shimmied out of the trapdoor, tail flicking the door itself upward for a rankling clank and allowing gravity to slam it shut behind him. He coughed once or twice into the microphone, and narrowed his eyes.

"Eenie, meenie, minie…"

Mo.

His gaze settled on the door to his left, toward the east.

he is the strongest after all, the most deserving -

he lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. ducked behind the doors like this, the moment he notices any movement, he will strike. temari's steps have gotten louder as has her breath.

they need to get out.

Gaara didn't finish his thought, but Temari could assume how the sentence would end. It was strange to have this Gaara, the one who cared about others, rather than the one who cared only for himself.

Had this village really changed Gaara this much? Temari couldn't quite understand it, but she was grateful to whatever had given Gaara life in his heart.

A screech filled her ears. She doubted it was the proctor, then what? Was there a threat undisclosed to them? That would be part of the exam, yes - nin weren't always fully prepared for a mission. It was up to her and Gaara to figure it out.

Something scraped along the floorboards.

Whatever was going on, they had no allies in this. It would always be only Temari and Gaara.

He noted the dimensions for later. Enough for two.

Sasori made no efforts to mask the rattle and creak of the handle, the hinges, the panels of wood as he tugged it open and allowed it to drop softly against the floor after he stepped within.

It might have been used for anything. For something defensible, in the event of emergency, of invasion or natural disaster, things Konoha told its students never to be frightened of, and yet had happened time and again to its people, a land so fecund to be dominated that it was nearly begging.

What he used it for, in those moments, were to clamber out from Hiruko, momentarily, to tinker with the joints of his favorite puppet, to meticulously oil and lubricate the junctures that allowed for silent movement, and those that could be emphasized for greater projection. He checked for flaw and for fault, and when he had satisfied himself, he nearly climbed back in, if not for the sound of footsteps nearby.

His eyes stilled, and the corners of his lips rose in a taut grin.

That proctor woman. Alone, tromping through the halls as though there were nothing for her to be worried for, as though this building had in any way belonged to her the moment after he had come to.

His fingers flexed, reached, upward, outward, his eyes and Hiruko's flat, slack-jawed expressions the only other things peeking from the hole in the floor.

So far, her concentration has been unspoiled. Focused. Ready. But whatever she's been prepared for hasn't shown itself. So for one brief moment, she allows herself to pretend she's on nothing more than a nighttime stroll. That she has the building all to herself. Then again, if that were true, she wouldn't need to focus so hard, right? The contradiction makes her laugh - and then choke, as one (two?) of her charges get far closer than any of the others have dared. That's why she reaches for her hip pouch. It's only because of the sudden show of daring. Nothing more. Honest. For a second, the walls, the doors - they all flicker with something like moonlight. Her once rigid posture is now hunched defensively, and though her eyes are covered, you can tell she's cycling through a few different emotions: alarm, realization, then embarrassment at letting these kids get to her at all. "You little..." she starts to grumble. Then, straightening, she collects herself. "I knew I shouldn't have agreed to this," she sighs. Then, turning her back, she resumes her walk.

Good. They had not been caught yet.

The classroom was deserted. Really, it just felt like a normal classroom for civilians; was this how the people of Konoha raised their soldiers? With softness, rather than though grit and sorrow.

Temari would laugh, but there had been some genuinely impressive people in this nation. Was it this softness that gave them strength, or was that a fluke?

On the other side of the earpiece, Temari could not hear anything. Had their third been caught, or had he decided to stop screwing around?

She looked on the desks. Perfectly pointed pencils sat there, deadly as a knife. She took two, and handed two others to Gaara.

what is worse than being followed is when suddenly, you aren't. the proctor's footsteps can still be faintly heard outside of the classroom, but gaara has lost track of their third.

the pencil handed to him is held within tiny pinpricks of sand and he dares not face temari in the moment as he contemplates their next move.

isn't he being a little childish? the kazekage should not be faltering this much. "to draw less attention, we need to split up."

Even in the dark however, she could feel Gaara's quiet presence. She had spent her life attuned to him, and in moments like this, that certainly paid off.

She followed Gaara. She could not ask why right now, but she made a mental note to ask him about it later. He never needed to ask for Temari; she would simply be there. She cast a look back at their third, and for a brief moment, she thought of Kankuro. It was strange being so far from home without him.

You are your nation. She wondered if that was a hint, either about the game at hand, or their third, or something else entirely.

Stealth had never been their game, but shinobi needed more tricks up their sleeve, no?

He would give them time to regain their composure, to put space in between themselves and he, and between the clopping footsteps of that proctor woman – the chase would be all the better if they were not expecting one. 

The shift in steps outside the doors caught his attention, a different cadence than the practiced footwork of those accustomed to walking on shifting sand, the firm and confident steps of someone who has never faced the threat of the ground giving way beneath their weight – or perhaps someone who did want their prey to know where they were. 

Sasori cocked his head thoughtfully for a moment, unconcerned about discovery by someone like that – none of the Leaf had anything that could threaten him, let alone someone trained in such rigor as to guide, to teach, to show sympathy until the mistakes had been filed off to form a smoother and polished façade. 

His fingers traced the edge of the scroll in his sleeve curiously, tugging on the edge of it experimentally to see what manner of jutsu it was – if it was indeed valuable information, or information at all. 

The light spilled out like the sun overhead, implacable and inescapable, and he grunted his irritation, rolled it back snugly in spite of the stubborn shimmer of it through the opening of his cloak regardless. 

Useless prop. 

letting it out of his sight isn't exactly what he'd like but between the steadily approaching steps and staying in this place watching two forces he was meant to do nothing to...

he looks down the hallway and the staircase seems promising. if not the ground floor then at least lower. there is no way it -

his thoughts stop. walking and thinking of how impossible it would be to remain on the same floor, even to go up a floor only for the reality of it to come to pass is frustrating. a small grunt leaves him and he tries once more.

the result is the same. so now he must go back?

temari isn't far behind but should they really be this bunched up to begin with. last time he had...

he needs her, most certainly. "we shouldn't split off. if we can escape withou-"

would naruto do that?

The scroll hung heavily in his sleeve. 

There were little mice in the dark with him. 

Now that he'd regained Hiruko, the puppet surrounded him with bracing sensation that was almost comfort, as if that was something that Sasori could even feel any longer, as if that was something that he need concern himself with. Still, he felt more himself now, draped in shadow and under the shield of his armored puppet, than he did in the glimmering light of that cavern. 

The aperture of his eyes narrowed as he traced their footsteps, shuffling along quietly, uncertainly in the cramped space of an academy that was none of their own - Suna knew what to do with space, didn't it? Its ceilings higher, its rooms broader – a consequence of the vastness of the desert. 

There was a soft clicking that was almost a chuckle as he pushed through the darkness on the fringes of the room, keeping himself out of sight. "And what game are we playing now?" he said, to none but the space around them. 

Hands made deft work of the draped cloaks and coats, those ratty things that Konohanin wore, slipping into and out of each pocket with exact precision until fingers ghosted over the dull edge of something metal. 

When he withdrew his hand, he held the key up to the single stream of moonlight from the window, and Sasori let out that clicking, croaking laughter once more, slightly louder, more taunting. 

"How kind of them to leave this behind for us." 

well rested and regretful, he looks about the academy that serves as their maze. this kind of operation doesn't suit him in the slightest. sneaking about or even carrying such sensitive information... but is that not essentially what the kazekage does? he isn't curious enough to look at the scroll - if the contents of it could start so much conflict in the wrong hands, shouldn't the visibility of it be limited entirely?

that's what he thinks at least. gaara has to clear his head, the threat of shukaku returning is lessened but that doesn't mean he can rest easy. those clicks and croaks, that voice in general-

he simply leaves. temari will follow. temari will ask him the whys. he should not leave her with that, but she will follow - all the more with what just happened.

gaara would like to call for her, for the assurance that she will, but his voice is like gravel against his throat.

His heart steadies to a lull. Temari is by his side, and Neji is steps away but upright. Both of them seem back to normal. The fleeting thought he'd set aside in lieu for more important matters returns in that moment. He was the only one that hadn't been afflicted. Why? They had changed positions several times, poked and prodded the walls at each their own discretion, and yet, he remained conscious throughout.

There's nothing particularly special about him. He doesn't have a Kekkei Genkai like Neji, nor does he possess Temari's prowess or Gaara's beast. Most of his life, he has spent taking naps, feeding deer, doing the least amount of work possible so he can live happily and peacefully and ...

Peacefully?

Shikamaru's eyes find the side of Neji's face, stoic again. Now that he thinks about it, he hasn't seen Neji smile in all the years he's known him—at least, not in the way he smiled when he was afflicted. Neji had looked and sounded at peace. Was that it? Admittedly, Shikamaru hadn't been paying attention; he'd always assumed that Neji, being the calm, cool-headed genius that he is, had everything under control, that he's fine. But is that true? He's heard talk about the Hyuuga's branches, how Hinata's part of the main lineage while Neji's exists to serve them. Having to deal with that must be troubling ...

And if he's thinking along the right lines ...

Shikamaru sits up. A battle between giants set the centre stage, and from the looks of it, the sea creature is at the sand beast's whim. He wonders, albeit briefly, if this has anything to do with Temari's troubles. Temari comes along as headstrong, fearless, and fiercely independent—but how much of that is her and not who she has to be? He doesn't know much about her. How she grew up, what she finds peace in, who she is when she's not looking out for others. It's something Shikamaru hadn't realized until now, but the entire time they were under, Temari was the one who took care of them.

The shore's sand tucks into his palm. It's colder than usual.

Gaara, too. He's wrong about Gaara, too. The image of his sand crushing Lee's leg had been burned into his memory, and while Shikamaru remained cordial as international relations dictate, he was still wary. But when the water rose, it was Gaara's sand that kept them dry and grounded in place. He doesn't know much about the guy either, but he knows Naruto. And if they're any alike, it's no wonder that Gaara's the only one he couldn't save.

We have to wake him up, Temari had said. But what if Gaara doesn't want to wake? What if whatever he's seeing or feeling or hearing is better than what's real?

"The two of you grew up in the same house, right?" His gaze remains on the tailed beast, even though he directs his question at Temari.

Then, he begins to hum. Softly, at first. It's the same tune as the one Temari had hummed when she was afflicted.

They're supposed to keep relations between the nations. This won't help at all.

She flinches at the sound of Shikamaru's voice. "We did." She doesn't know if she should mention they're family; it shouldn't hold much significance. Either way, Gaara is important to her. That's all that matters. There's no need for sentimentality here. Neji has a cousin, certainly, but does Shikamaru have siblings? Would he understand? Neither of them would understand the ways of her people, anyway.

He hums, and she recognises the song. It had filled her mind and ears when she was under. Apparently, she had hummed it too, though she doesn't remember. Her jaw tightens. "Why would Gaara know it?" And not me? She tucks away the thought.

Out of the corner of his eye he can see the little ants scurrying around trying to find land to situate themselves on. Ah- he can just smash them when he gets done with the big fish! That'll-

that song... what was it?

gaara feels sprinkles of sand falling across his cheeks and his back is warm against the bed of sand its been laid in. who put him here? must he wake? a hand cradles his face - it's so large he wonders if it could hold him whole... can he simply curl into it for the rest of eternity?

likely not.

the song - the hum - it's not sung in the right voice. that is not the voice that gave and took so much.

no, that voice is...

What are those little ants doing? What's that incessant little buzzing? Are they wasps without the wings now? Just little flies? He doesn't care!

Shikamaru's hand flies out to brace himself against the wall as more water surges in. The sand around his feet had suddenly shot upward, stabilizing him. He has half a mind to thank Gaara for that, if not for a bigger concern. Shit, Temari too?

He heaves Neji from her shoulder.

"Oi! Neji!" His fingers dig into Neji's arms as he violently shakes him as Temari had once done. "C'mon, man. Get it together."

He turns to Temari next, grabbing her in the same manner. She can kill him later, after they get out of this hellhole. But for now. "Hey, hey. We don't have time for this, isn't that what you said?"

At least Gaara's fi—

"Jeez, what the hell?" Shikamaru drags himself forward and latches onto Gaara's shoulders, jostling him just as forcibly. "I'd like a nap too, but not now, Kazekage-sama. I need you to wake up. Wake. Up."

She hums along, as if she knows the tune. Maybe someone really did sing this to Temari. In her mind's eye, she's a girl, not a weapon. She has a heart that beats, and a soul that yearns. She's free to want - what does she want?

Hands grab her shoulders. It's the hands of a man, steadying and grounding. She doesn't want to come back to earth; the aether feels like home. Yet the man's hands are nice, too. Her eyes focus. 'Hey. Hey.' It's gentle and coaxing, and it's almost enough to allow her to leave this existence again.

Right as she comes back to reality, she realises who it had been all along: Shikamaru.

his limbs grow heavier - with his weight and with the sand that has at all times been his aid. it carries with it everything, his purpose, his strength, his...

the corridor of the beast's innards become tighter. the steadily rising water proves troublesome. gaara would like to wake up. gaara would like to...

– RGHHH!!!

A solid fist of sand breaks through the side of the creature and water rushes to flood in. Hey that's one solution at least! But more than that -