Gaara has always been what people consider the problem child of his family. Even though he grew up in a nice home with a mostly whole family, not to mention being surrounded by a good sum of wealth, it's just what he's been pegged as since he was a little boy. Maybe it's because he's the youngest, maybe it's because of his scruffy red hair and constant brooding expression, or maybe even possibly because he just wasn't interested in the family business. In the end it didn't matter to him. It still doesn't matter to him. If people thought that he was the problem kid then just let them keep thinking that, he couldn't care less. He's never felt any real compulsion to prove the people wrong anyways.
Instead he chose to prove them right. He went down his own path that took him far away from family ideals, led him down dark alleyways and to new kinds of people. This decision has left plenty of scars in what could have been a good relationship with his father, and talking with his siblings is like tiptoeing through a minefield these days. But again, it doesn't really matter to him. If they treat him like shit, they treat him like shit and he never bothered to keep them a main thing in his life. He's free to do whatever he wants to now, which just so happens to bring him to this exact moment in his life.
Gaara surveys the crowd of people milling about around Central Summit. A majority of them are young men and women, like him in their early twenties, rushing back and forth as the get on or off their lunch breaks. A variety of older people mingle among this crowd, some the general business folk and others the family groups. Nearby is a courtyard where these different kinds of people can sit and enjoy their lunches, the weather, and of course the nice view of the fountain he stands in front of.
His gaze slowly drifts up to the sky, passing over sleek metal buildings that reflect each other and some of the city life below, until his sight is met with an almost sickly pale blue. The corners of his lips tug downwards ever so slightly in disgust. That shade of blue is ugly, in his opinion. It's always like that in the city though. Always like that in his reflection if he even bothers to catch it. Most times he usually always tries to avoid it though. He hates that shade of blue.
Quickly he takes his mind and eyes off the sky to focus on somethings near his feet. By his left foot, covered in it's worn grey sneaker, is a black boombox; battered and falling apart it had been the only one he could afford at the time he got it, but now that he had sufficient funds to actually buy a newer version he finds that he just can't bring himself to let this one go. It's a fighter, only one speaker actually works well enough to be heard while the other is half fuzz, but he finds it charming. A few paces from this sound machine is a small, beige tarp he uses to collect the spare change people throw at him for his performances. Gaara didn't feel like it was necessary for the people to be paying him, especially since he has a decent paying job outside of this one, but it's not like any of them know that. He just does what he does because he wants to. It was after his first few performances that he realized that the same applied to the public. They'd pay him for entertaining them even though he doesn't have to. That and the tarp became necessary because picking up all the scattered change is not only a complete waste of his time, but a hassle of a chore to fish the coins out of the cracks in the sidewalks. And just in front of that is a sign with large letters asking for no one to photograph or record the performance.
He crouches near the boombox and fiddles with a few of the knobs to tamper with the volume and bass sounds. When he's finished with that he gives himself a quick outfit assessment to assure that it would work with routine or if he'd have to take a few things off. His feet are covered in those grey sneakers, laced and tied carefully so he won't trip over them. His dark denim pants may have long cuffs at the end but he's never found those to be a real problem, and if he were to remove those then he'd certainly get a lot more attention than he bargains for. The shirt is actually a fire colored tank top, not quite red but also not quite orange with white kanji slashing down the left side that reads "Seijōna jōtai e no shi!" Death to the normal state, or death to normalcy. It's his favorite shirt, also his favorite statement- one he continuously let his family know about. Over this shirt is a light grey jacket that has an adjustable drawstring hood. The weather is fairly warm, but there's still a chill in the air so he decides he'll just keep it and toss it if he feels like he's dying during the event.
Decision made, he presses the play button on his boombox and jumps up to get into place. Gaara relaxes and bows his head with his eyes closed while the techno music builds up. His right foot taps along, counting out the beat until he reaches the peak of the music. Then he starts to lightly march in place, bouncing up every three steps until the sounds level out and he stops momentarily just before picking up again as the singing begins. His right leg kicks out while his arm rotates backwards smoothly to bring his hand out, palm facing down just as he puts his foot back into place. Quickly he does a quick shoulder check before turning and crossing his arms once, twice. The worn soles of his shoes slide, as if friction barely exists, against the concrete ground.
The series of footwork is rapid and twisting, almost just as much as the arm and torso work. It has taken him a lot of time and practice to get himself to be as quick as he is now, and even more extended time to engrain every trick he knows into his muscle memory. And Gaara had loved every minute of it. Every dance lesson he had attended, every video he had watched, every sprained ankle or wrist he had ever received during his practice. He wouldn't trade one single minute of it for something like his father's business. He loves dancing; the way he can make his body move, the way he just feels so alive! It's exhilarating in a way that nothing else can compare. And when all eyes are on him he's suddenly something better than the problem child. Someone better than the problem child. He's a performer, an entertainer. He's respected and praised for his skill instead of mocked and scorned. He's a better Gaara.
Gaara moves forward two steps and drops to his hand. He runs a little from a sideways angle and thrusts his legs into the air to pivot himself around just before righting himself again. With only microseconds used to gauge his landing, Gaara slightly tucks in on himself, save his right hand to catch himself should he screw up mid-air, and flips. As he comes back down his hand connects to the concrete and he pivots with his legs again to bring his lower body back onto solid ground. Without hesitation he leaps up again and executes the final steps of the dance, ending with his legs spread apart and his arm raising above his head.
He heaves, a little breathless from the pace, but thrilled with the success anyways. The crowd that had gathered cheers, a rain of money joining with and landing with small thunks and clinks on the tarp. Gaara nods to the people with a ghost of a smile gracing his lips. This is something he loves. It may not be something that makes him famous, or that his family likes, but regardless of it all he persists in his pursuance of this form of art. And it suits him just fine.
His arm lowers back down to its normal relaxed position at his side and he lazily surveys the crowd while his breath returns. The people are dispersing, most of them already knowledgeable of his routine; after one dance he takes a short break to go get some water or something light to eat before doing another dance. As Gaara starts to turn away a specific person in the crowd catches his eye. Well, at least the familiar nest of spiky blonde hair catches his attention anyways.
Gaara faces forward to assess the young man making his way towards him, crossing his arms over his chest a little defensively, not entirely happy with the surprise visit. The blonde raises his hand, the wrist wrapped in a black armband, and grins widely. He rolls his eyes but waits patiently for his friend to hurry it up.
"Naruto," he greets coolly as the man strolls up to him, shoving his hands into the deep pockets of his khaki cargo pants. His shirt and jacket, which have the sleeves rolled up to the elbow, are relatively similar to Gaara's own style, but more geared towards Naruto's own… loud tastes. Black on top of bright orange. Though he also has the same slogan in white kanji too, he doesn't treat it like the statement Gaara had meant for it to be.
"Sup Gaara, still rockin' the dance floor I see," Naruto's head bobs ever so slightly as he speaks, that grin never leaving his face. Despite the displeasure at his sudden appearance Gaara can't help but loosen himself a little, falling into the normal habit whenever he's around his friend. Gaara's head jerks to the side as he shrugs his shoulders.
"But uh," The hyperactive blonde pulls his right hand out of his pocket and reaches up to scratch the back of his head. "If you intend for that sign to work you might wanna put it all around you so everyone can see it."
His brows knit together. What? He hadn't noticed anyone recording his performance. Gaara glances around uncomfortably, the tenseness he had released mere moments ago returning stronger than before as a slight paranoia creeps up on him. He can't have anyone recording or snapping photos of him while he's dancing. Getting internet famous is the last thing he needs right now, not to mention the consequences of if and when his boss finds out…
Noting his sudden change in attitude, Naruto turns to face the courtyard, stretching his neck up a little and bouncing on the balls of his feet. Those blue eyes search for someone in specific, and even though he doesn't know who he's looking for, so does Gaara. Naruto makes a small noise in success as he finds the person he'd been looking for as he releases the back of his head to point them out.
Gaara peers along the intended path to which Naruto is pointing in, squinting as he tries to figure out which person he's even pointing at. As a good show of support his friend says, "It's the blonde woman who looks like she's working on something."
With a more direct description like that it's easier to spot his target. Gaara starts to walk towards the courtyard in order to confront this woman and clear a few things up. Naruto follows after him with only a mild warning to not be too harsh on the lady. He rolls his eyes and counters that he's just going to ask that she not post the picture somewhere and that if she'd please delete it, that'd be great.
He draws nearer to the woman, weaving between round and full tables until he stands at the opposite end of the one she's seated at. For a second his voice is caught in his throat, the previous plan momentarily forgotten as he transfixes his attention to what the woman is doing.
She's hunched over the table, short light ash blonde bangs that wouldn't stay put in her attempt at clipping her hair back hang almost freely as feeble curtain. On the table beneath her is a sketchbook and next to that is a sleek, silver camera. In her right hand is a black mechanical pencil to which she is putting to good use as she maps out what looks like the beginnings of a body. The position that this body is in looks kind of like they're landing after a flip. Gaara blinks and is reminded of what he came here to do, so he clears his throat to get her attention.
The woman's head snaps up, clearly startled. He briefly notes that her hand didn't jerk across the paper and ruin it, which signifies to him that she's actually got good self restraint, before focusing in on her round face. Her eyes are a light steel blue, alert, and upturned. Thin rectangular tortoise shell patterned glasses sit on the bridge of her nose, which has a light dusting of freckles along the peach colored skin. Her eyebrows knit together in confusion and a tiny frown tugs the corners of her lips.
"My friend told me you had taken a picture of me dancing," Gaara jerks his head over his shoulder to Naruto, who is no doubt waving as if to clarify who this friend could possibly be. "I don't know if you saw the sign or already knew, but I don't like people taking pictures or recording my performances."
He didn't mean to lace any venom in his tone, but that's how it came out. Especially as he thought about the consequences of his image getting put onto the internet again. But the woman doesn't seem to pay attention to it or simply didn't notice it. Instead her expression transitions from confusion to surprise, to recognition, to understanding in three seconds flat. She nods her head and smiles in apology.
"I'm sorry, I didn't know. I just saw your dancing and thought about what a good drawing reference you'd be," She flips her sketchbook and the camera around so he can see and compare for himself. While he examines, Naruto looking over his shoulder, she continues to explain herself. "I take pictures of people doing the things they love and then recreate it as a drawing, then post it on my blog."
He looks up sharply and she hurries to continue with her explanation, holding her hands up as if to keep him pacified. "I don't post the original pictures I take, just what I draw. And I hardly get any viewers since I don't use some big name blogging site, it's mostly just family and friends that see my art. But if it's still bothersome then I won't post the drawing at all!"
Gaara shifts between looking at her and at the sketch in process, still wary. It will definitely save him a lot of trouble if he just tells her to delete the picture now, but at the same time if she's telling the truth then it shouldn't bother him to just let her finish her project. But in order to make sure she keeps to her word he'll need some kind of proof…
"What's the url to your blog?" He tries to mix a little bit of curiosity in his voice but it still comes off as hard and edgy. He feels Naruto nudging him slightly and he spares a brief glance behind him to see his friend rolling his eyes.
"Oh, um... here," There's the sound of ripping paper and he turns back to see the woman tearing off a strip of paper from what must be some loose leaf meant as scratch and quickly scribbling the requested information on it. Pushing the glasses back up her nose she looks up and hands him the paper to which he barely glances at before shoving it into the pocket of his jacket. He'll go check it out later when he decides to go hit the library.
Naruto slings his arm over Gaara's shoulder and leans forward with a closed eyed grin. "Hey so this is completely off topic but what's you're name? I'm Naruto and this stiff is my friend Gaara."
The woman blinks in surprise but quickly returns his smile with a pleasurable one of her own, extending her hand and everything. "My name's Kazumi, it's nice to meet you two."
Naruto chuckles and apologizes for bothering her. She merely waves him off with a light laugh of her own before throwing in her own apology about the picture. At this Gaara nods his head with a smidgen of unsurety, feeling almost like he had guilted her and thus making him feel a little guilty in turn. He dismisses her apology saying that the misunderstanding had been cleared up so everything is fine now. To his relief that draws their conversation to a close and he turns, dragging Naruto with him, and leaves.
His friend sniggers as they walk away and he says, "That address to her blog must be the equivalent of you getting her phone number, what a stud you are."
Gaara elbows the other man in the ribs, not feeling a shred of mercy as he delivers the blow. Unfortunately a trail of heat flushes through his cheeks and he has to look away. Naruto begins to cackle through his wheezing as he realizes that his teasing has indeed affected his friend. Gaara then proceeds to ignore everything, coming to a stop in front of the water fountain and crouching so he can gather the tarp he had rather foolishly left unattended as he went to deal with the other situation.
When Naruto calms down and after Gaara had finished pocketing his money, the conversation gears towards an unsettlingly serious tone mixed with the usual that came with Naruto being himself.
"So while you were ogling her did you happen to notice anything in particular?" he asks casually. Gaara sighs in exasperation, turning to his friend with every intention of telling him off for trying to insinuate a game of matchmaker with him again.
"Naruto, I swear if you're going to try and set me up with another stranger I'll strangle you."
Naruto raises his hands up defensively, coiling in on himself with a look that's begging for peace and a chance to be heard out. "Nah man, I was just meaning did you notice that she was in a wheelchair."
Gaara blinks in surprise, his shoulders loosening and going almost limp. He turns around and looks for the woman named Kazumi again. This time when he finds her he doesn't pay such strict attention to her herself, but more around her nearby surroundings. From this distance and position it's really hard to make out, but if he squints he can see the handles coming off the back of the chair that he hadn't actually realized she had been sitting in. He had just automatically assumed she was sitting on the bench. And with this revelation in mind he also notes that she isn't sitting normally at the table, but more at an almost awkward angle meant to accommodate her in the chair.
A new wave of guilt washes over him. He'd almost been hostile with a stranger that also turns out to be handicapped. Great.
A hand claps on his shoulder and he looks over at Naruto. "Hey now, it's not like you went full on Rambo on her or anything, right? Besides, she was understanding of everything and so were you so it's okay. Just chill out man."
He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "You're right. I shouldn't be getting worked up again over what's most likely nothing at this point. I'm technically on break right now so if you want to come with me to grab a snack then let's go."
Naruto slings his arm back around his shoulders and steers them towards a concession stand that's a ways away from the fountain after letting Gaara grab his boombox, tarp, and sign.
"Heh heh, Kazumi is a pretty woman though," Naruto snickers teasingly.
"I'm going to strangle you!"
[TD]: *strangled pterodactyl screaming* I shouldn't be writing this when I have another story I really should be working on but I have no self control! *le sigh* Oh well here I go again. And a note on Gaara's dance: I mostly modeled after an MMD. (It's called [MMD Naruto] オビトで ELECT) Updates will be slow for this one since it's not going to take precedence over my other story.