tampered | LOG, COMPLETE.

LOG, COMPLETE.

When; After the attack and while Gaara is recovering at home.
Rating; PG for Gaara's ugly mug.
Characters; Nara Shikamaru (

plsgtfo) and Sabaku no Gaara (

sandmullet)
Summary; Shikamaru decides to make a visit to Gaara's apartment to ask some questions... at 2 in the morning.
Log; It wouldn't have been a lie to say that Shikamaru didn't have a fucking clue what he was doing.

There was something off about this world, something that didn't work off of pure logic alone. It made Shikamaru uncertain and unsteady about his capabilities, but he wouldn't let that be shown. He had always been praised for his levelheaded thought process, so why stop now? He would make it his goal to keep the ninjas of Konoha and Suna together—at least until they all reached home...

... and that's why they needed to get to the bottom of this, because intuition told him that Gaara couldn't take the ichibi conflict again. Physically, Shikamaru had no doubt that Gaara would be able to overcome it but mentally—

Gritting his teeth, he slowly made his way up the stairs of the building, looking a lot more serious than he had initially intended. Had he been more careful, more focused on the Kazekage's well-being, and quicker, perhaps the ichibi wouldn't have gotten out. If he was stronger... if he was smarter... if, if, if. That's why he had to make up for his losses. Why they had to figure. this. out.

Stopping by the door, he paused momentarily, hand raised to knock. Quiet enough for the sleeping to ignore, but annoying enough for raging insomniacs to hear.

"It's me."

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It had been a little under a week since Shukaku tore apart nine days of nightmare. Gaara's voice had almost entirely recovered, and the hollows in his cheeks had begun to fill. Of course, regardless of the hour, he did not sleep.

But he did rest. Not as he had once before, without doubt as he closed his eyes and strove for the clearest mind he could achieve. With everyone else in the apartment in their respective rooms, asleep, Gaara sat in the main room, stiff on the cot. Though he had his own bedroom, it was mere formality: he spent more time on the roof, elsewhere, than he ever did there.

Before Shikamaru knocked, Gaara knew- grains of sand outside told him through their disturbance. Before Shikamaru knocked, his hand had moved, fingers pressed against his blackened eyelid, and an eye spun in the cool night air.

"I know," he said, looking at a clock and not the door. He knew who, but not why. It was almost annoying.

Gaara didn't invite him in; that formality didn't seem necessary.

Hand sliding to the knob of the door, Shikamaru closed his eyes. It was to be expected, really, and he didn't mind it as much. So long as he could clear up the situation, formalities weren't at the top of his priorities.

Turning the knob, he quietly opened the door and stepped in, business as per usual. At this point, he would take liberties about this. It was something he had to do apart from Sakura and Rin's already extensive medical survey, something he had to do apart from Lee's nosy intel gathering, something he had to do himself. So here he was, at two o'clock in the morning, working behind his own friends' backs.

"I have a few questions," he started, hand in his pocket as he fingered the tip of a cigarette box, before letting out a soft sigh. He stayed by the door, keeping a watchful eye on Gaara, expression unchanging. "And minimal leads that you might want to know about."

Here, villages didn't matter. They were all ninjas from the same world, and they had to stick together—Lee, living with them, was proof of that fact.

Edited 2008-11-30 08:32 (UTC)

It had not been intended as a slight. If the other ninja felt urgency to the point of standing outside his door at two in the morning, Gaara wasn't going to turn him away, and the proper address in regard to station had been made through knocking. Though, that wasn't an issue he had even considered - still, still he was tired.

Everyone had something to do. Gaara could recognize that, had recognized that, saw it in the way even the ever lethargic Chuunin (a status earned despite giving up) had roused himself to this point. Everyone had something to do; he caught himself watching Shikamaru's hand, or his wrist as his fingers disappeared into his pocket.

Gaara's hand remained cupped around tea gone long cold. Temari had left him with it.

"Yeah," he said, frustrated by his frustration and determined to suppress it even as it fed on itself, spiraled out, universes branching into parallel universes.

Villages didn't matter; he remembered his squandered efforts when there had been so few ninja. This, what everyone had done for him again, should have been promising, was promising. But there were still things behind his eyelids when he closed his eyes, but this, all this - really was annoying.

"Sit down," Gaara said, more command than request. And ask.

All of them were tired. Perhaps Shikamaru even more than the usual, but he couldn't let this be. There was something in the air, something that was inherently wrong, that led to his inability to sleep this off. No. He wanted to get to the bottom of this, and until then...

Taking Gaara's command into notice, Shikamaru took his hand out of his pocket and walked ever so slowly to the couch, gaze settled on the floor because to him, this was his failure. Had he paid closer attention, perhaps this could have been avoided. But what's done is done; he would let it go for now. Finally taking a seat on the couch, Shikamaru crossed his arms.

He opened his mouth momentarily to comment on the Kazekage's much better health since a week ago, but closed it after some thought, eyes trailing towards the cold cup of tea. Idle conversation had never been his strong suit, so why bother? He could more or less paint the entire picture based on the state of the apartment, Gaara's mannerisms, Temari's general mood—Shikamaru wasn't stupid enough to not pick up on these clues.

But this wasn't the time to worry. It was back to business.

"When you were asleep," the Chuunin (who earned his title because he won the battle and lost the match) started, "Do you remember anything? Or are you drawing a blank?"

Edited 2008-11-30 09:30 (UTC)

It took him long enough. Though Gaara spent a lot of time watching people (really, far more time than most would ever guess), he still had little talent at reading and interpreting what he observed. Empathy was still at zero. Even with all that, Gaara could tell Shikamaru was tired, which was what made his delay more strange than trying: why show up at normal sleeping hours only to drag your feet?

Gaara could wait; he had nothing else to do, no other option, plenty to think about. Selective thought should have been important, filtering, to drive away all that was pointless and had yet consumed so much of him as of late. Of course, Shikamaru dragged his feet and Gaara wondered if people would ever make sense. This guy was a special case, sure, but sometimes, every road ended in the same place.

Every road. "I remember everything," Gaara replied, once business had been spread across the metaphorical table. "But... there's not much of use."

He knew he would need to expand, to make it clear. Idle movements, wasted motion: these things Gaara had never partook in, and so he remained absolutely still as he considered how to phrase it, picking through the details while trying to separate those with which he continued to struggle.

"I guess it was supposed to be a nightmare." His monotone, for once, had an edge of doubt; Gaara, after all, had never dreamed before. "It was all familiar. Memories. Some things were changed. But... candles."

"There were candles. Like a fence."

It was just how he was. A person full of contradictions, down to his very personality. He closed his eyes momentarily as Gaara started narrating, arms still crossed as he leaned back on the couch, taking the information in. Sakura never did report back with similar cases in the hospital, but there were enough reports outside of the hospital to know that Gaara wasn't the only one singing the song. No, there were other victims to account for, not just Gaara.

"What we do know is that someone is pulling the strings, and that someone is probably from another world." He paused, rubbing his temples as he leaned forward, trying to gather what minimal and scattered information he had into one cohesive argument. "If you were having nightmares of the past, then we're to assume that someone has access to memories, directly or indirectly. It might even be someone you've never met before." What pissed him off about the City was that you never knew. You were never sure. There was no certainty about anything.

Candles, huh? He managed a silent scoff of sorts, looking up to see Gaara. It wasn't often that the Konoha Chuunin actually looked like he was doing his job, but really. Gaara would have had to eventually accept the fact that Shikamaru was indeed a productive ninja. Just not at the most convenient times.

"The changes. Can you describe them?"

Edited 2008-11-30 10:16 (UTC)

Despite his at times low opinion of Leaf ninja, Gaara had very little trouble accepting Shikamaru as capable. There was a reason he had been appointed Chuunin; there was a reason Gaara had allowed him into his apartment.

What Shikamaru stated, Gaara had been able to gather himself over the past week. While recovering and yet unable to sleep, there had been plenty of time to pick through the thousands of network entries, attempting to correlate. Gaara was nothing if not thorough. It also helped to keep him from dwelling, the benefit of productivity.

Everyone's from another world, he almost noted at the stating of the obvious, but refrained. Instead, he paused before answering the next question, his gaze shifting again to the cup.

"...It's not important," he said, not quite a mumble but low, less distinct. "Except for the candles, it wasn't - something useful. The order was wrong, or it was Shukaku distorting things."

It was only that the experience had been so impersonal. The dreams had not been, the memories, but there had been no presence, no sign, nothing malignant outside of the demon. It was only that that prevented him from disagreeing, from being certain that it was someone he knew.

"There was a song," Gaara said, disrupting the question & answer session he felt wouldn't go far. "What was it?"

In the dream, he hadn't sang at all.

Edited 2008-11-30 10:37 (UTC)

For Shikamaru to state the obvious, it just meant that they didn't have enough information. In his own little way, reiterating everything meant just that. Sorry, no go, we need to try harder. Go beyond looking through past entries, because it wasn't helping them at this point. Those people from the Noah's world... that would be the next best move, but where the hell were they?

"... if you say so."

He wouldn't push Gaara through the Q&A if he didn't want to. To tell the truth, at this point they were fishing for a needle in a haystack. They just didn't have enough information to go off of, and those that did have information refused to give them out. It was frustrating and annoying. Nothing added up, even on his end.

This entire situation was troublesome. This entire City—he didn't know what to think of it.

The song had been drilled into his mind weeks ago. In a deadpan voice, Shikamaru recited the lyrics to the song, "The millennium earl is searching. He is searching for a precious heart. Let's check to see if you are it. Rinse and repeat."

There was another line, of course. One line that he had exchanged with someone else, unconsciously.

Inconsistency. He hated it.

"The millennium earl," Gaara echoed.

The millennium earl. His hairless brows furrowed, lowering over his eyes. He had read it before. Gaara had read it before, and from the very person he had been unable to stop thinking of - not in a mind-gnawing, constant way, but in that whenever he thought long on the subject of dreams, he remembered a conversation he had read between her and Esther Blanchett. One that also discussed an earl.

Anger thickened in his chest like a sludge, as if something filled his lungs and made it difficult to breathe. As with anything too vibrant, especially now, even with the limited distance between the last outbreak; it left a stirring in his mind, the old familiar pang when pang could never describe it.

There was no such thing as a discreet movement, when an immobile tendency made everything small stand out. Unable to be self-conscious, Gaara moved on mostly instinct as he raised one hand, fingertips pushing against his scalp. Glowering into the air, he said,

"Road."

Edited 2008-12-01 05:20 (UTC)

He stayed quiet, watching Gaara's movements carefully, hands drawn together as he closed his eyes. Intuition proved right, Shikamaru sharply breathed out, slowly opening his eyes. Back on track. With a name, no less. This was a better lead than anything else they had been able to dig up in the past two weeks. Regurgitating information—he could only take so much of that.

The air felt thick. If it was one thing Shikamaru could never get over, it was the killing intent that surrounded Gaara—if not, the sheer possibility of it. Even if he was stronger now, even if they were allies now, even if they were working towards the same goal now, the initial impression left by Gaara onto his twelve year old self had left is mark.

But the past was the past; this was now.

He let the silence between the two settle in, before standing up, letting out a yawn. "Man, how troublesome... I don't like pointing fingers at little kids," he murmured, rubbing the back of his neck before shaking his head.

"... but regardless, is that a sure confirmation?" he questioned. "If so, I suggest that before we make a move, we contact those Exorcists, wherever the hell they are. Temari and I went over the list of those identified so far yesterday, so it should be up to date."

That fucking brat, Gaara thought, but the acute ferocity laced through it wasn't entirely his. Or if it was, it was a him he could not allow. As Shikamaru exhaled, Gaara schooled his breathing; by the second bout of in and out, even his expression had cooled, both hands again around the cup, and with absolute impassivity he watched the Leaf ninja stand.

Little changed to display that he found Shikamaru's wording peculiar. Gaara had been slaughtering assassins from six and on; even in a peaceful village like the Leaf, how could anybody be thick enough to underestimate by youth?

The guy may have been a genius, but in that moment Gaara could not help but look at him as if he were an idiot.

"... I can find it," Gaara said, eventually. "On the network. Why it's definite." The exchange he had read, that he remembered better with every moment, that had begun his determination to keep an eye on the so-called child. Child, pft.

But they obviously needed more information about a person who could do what she had. Gaara nodded.

"Pain in the ass." No, it wasn't underestimation. It was the fact that she was a little girl, and little girls shouldn't be going around causing troublesome situations like this. At least, not in his chauvinistic mindset. Why didn't anything go his way? Like having less noisy female ninjas from his world in the City. Actually. Like knowing less noisy female ninjas in his world.

Scratch that. Like knowing less noisy ninjas in general.

He stared right back at Gaara before looking away, seeming more peeved than offended. "It's a joke, a joke," he replied, waving a hand in front of him with the same, unphased expression over his features. One could say it was stuck there permanently—and on that note, it was probably the truth.

In reality, they all already had an idea where they were going prior to this conversation, despite scattered information. Intuition had told him that it was right, but to chase these speculations without definitive proof would have been a waste of time. Absolute logic had argued against him, and inevitably won out. But now, now with Gaara's confirmation, they had a clear path. Now, they just needed to gather more information and lay the traps.

"... all right. You can just forward it to me." A yawn, and then he walked towards the door with that same... slow... motion. "When this is all over and you fully recover, we'll have another go, yeah? Temari and Sakura can only keep an interesting strategy for so long."

It was his own way of saying, truce. One could learn a lot about someone through their strategies—Gaara would be no exception to this clause.

Edited 2008-12-01 09:41 (UTC)

That, at least, was a sentiment with which Gaara could agree. Though he could not begin to understand the joke. It was not that he lacked a sense of humor completely, though that would be all too easy to believe.

There was little indignation on his part that such an act would be necessary, that he would need to forward the information rather than have his declaration accepted as it was. Independence, solitary confidence in only himself, expecting in all things complete, unquestioning obedience; those were no longer his. Funny how ascending to such authority had forced him into new perspective, his determination to expand allowing it.

In the meantime, Shikamaru seemed to yawn as much as he thought. If he were to make a point of decorum, regardless of the hour, he could have thought it rude.

"It'll be sooner than you think. ...Get some sleep," Gaara commanded, though with what was almost a smirk. Back to shougi. For all that he was annoying, the Leaf ninja had his interesting eccentricities.

Even he could admit a certain entertainment in the challenge presented by the game.

Different circumstances led to different levels of understanding on both their parts; compared to Gaara, or any of the other ninjas even in Konoha, Shikamaru had the privilege of enjoying a relatively normal life. Just a normal, normal, all-too normal life with his best friend and two stooges, with the exception of...

Gaara did happen to be the Kazekage in his world, but here, he was just another ninja. Shikamaru would treat him with the respect he had earned, yes, but he wouldn't back down from his own way of doing things. He would have asked anyone else, and Gaara wouldn't be excepted from the case just because he was the Kazekage. Things didn't work out like that, in Shikamaru's mind.

"Yes sir," Shikamaru said, managing an idle wave of his hand as he turned about to leave.

But in mid-movement, he stopped momentarily, a new thought dawning upon him. Wrinkling his nose, he muttered out something almost incomprehensible but predictable (—troublesome—), before opening the door. "I was going to talk to you about organization," he started, "But that can wait until we get this cleared, first."

For one, organization would make things less troublesome to deal with.

"I'll stop by tomorrow afternoon."

Edited 2008-12-01 21:13 (UTC)

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LOG, COMPLETE.

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