Fandom: If you don't know, what are you doing here?

Characters: Just about everyone, but mostly the sand sibs and Shikamaru, because being locked in a basement makes a story pretty focused.

Warnings: Maybe a bit of language, depending on what you call 'language'.

Other: Okay. I was going to wait and update once I finished the fic, but since I already have two chapters after this written i didn't really see the point. Anyway...here we see me playing around with the ways different characters's powers would work in this story, and a mysterious complication messes up all Shikamaru's plans of waiting around for someone else to make a decision. Also, more sign-language, because the more Shikamaru knows of it the less complicated the job of writing this story gets. XD

I'm trying to get my more artistic friend to post pictures of some of the rookie 12 on her deviantart account, but for now you can all go look at her picture of the Sound 4: http:/ akimichiko .deviantart. com/art/Naruto-AU-Sound-4-175378413 (get rid of the spaces) because she's cool that way. Ttly pimping your art here, dude. :D


I am so bored! Dark Copy!"

Tenten cursed as a shower of sparks spiraled around Naruto and lit up the air around her, twining into complicated networks that glowed and flickered in the pre-dawn grayness. For a split second there was a hint of a bare skeleton covered in twining muscles and then, with a soft whump of sandals on grass, a ring of identical, black-clad ninja surrounded her.

"Damn," muttered Tenten. She glanced around, counting her opponents with a practiced eye, then sprang backwards and into the air with such force the ground splintered under her sandals. The bandages wrapped around her arms spun behind her as she gave the ends a practiced tug and let them fly free, flying into the air and revealing the skin of her arms underneath. The skin shone palely in the dawn light; layer upon layer of pale, thin scars in knots and tangles from her wrists to her biceps. The flapping cloth caught the dawn light for a split second as the girl arced smoothly over the shadows of the low training ground walls, and then she was landing, perfectly poised, at the far end of the field. Naruto's range couldn't stretch that far, and both of them knew it.

Both of them also knew that this was Tenten's element. Naruto cursed and started to speed forwards across the scarred ground, dodging behind obstacles and clones alike, once barely making cover in time as a senbon nearly gave him a third ear piercing. From the sidelines, Sakura's gently shining fingertips resting on his hastily splinted shin, Lee smiled a gleaming, triumphant smile.

Tenten flung out an arm, scar tissue forming pale tangles from her fingertips to her biceps. There was a sudden, sharp flash of chakra and a knife appeared from her hand as though by magic, and then blood spattered across her scars as another bloody gash joined their ranks.

Now it was Naruto's turn to look taken aback. His copies gathered in a defensive wall around him and he vanished among the identical figures like a shadow, indistinguishable from the shifting faces and bodies. Tenten scanned the ranks then threw out her arm, leaving a spray of blood in the dawn light. There was a flicker of chakra and the blood seemed to squirm in midair, darkening and molding itself. The first rays of sunlight glinted off of black steel, and then the blood was gone and a spray of long throwing needles peppered the mob of Naruto duplicates. The crowd of identical boys fell backwards, twisting in on themselves and imploding in tiny bursts of chakra. Only one remained; the original, staggering slightly from a glittering black needle through his thigh.

"Naruto that's a hit! You're out; Kiba, your turn."

"Teacher Iruka~a..."

Umino Iruka shook his head and gestured Naruto off the field, but spared a smile as his former student limped to the sidelines, holding his leg.

"Sorry Naruto, but you suggested switch-out sparring. It doesn't matter if you can keep going with a needle through your leg in a combat situation." Iruka reached over, waiting patiently as the boy rolled up his favorite pair of baggy black training shorts, and gave the needle a firm tug and pressed a cloth pad against the wound. "This is just an exercise, remember?"

Naruto dipped his head in something that was either a wince or a nod and pulled the cloth away from the neat hole in his thigh. There was a faint wisp of smoke, a single red-orange spark, and the hole vanished as though it had never been there at all.

"I rock," Naruto muttered, and leaned back against one of the enormous, warped trees that bordered the training grounds. "Hey. Hey teacher."

"Yes?"

"I need somewhere to sleep. Did you sell your couch?"

Iruka adopted an expression of mock-seriousness, shaking his head. "Now Naruto, you have your own perfectly good apartment now. Why would you abuse the Compound funds that pay your rent for you?"

"Because it stinks and I hate it." Naruto wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue in exaggerated disgust. "Come on, teacher..."

"No."

"You always say no, but you know you won't throw me out when I show up on your couch."

Iruka didn't answer, just smiled a resigned smile. The dawn air was cool and fresh, and even Naruto managed to be quiet for a few minutes, watching with detached interest as Kiba sprang over a volley of throwing knives and threw down a smoke bomb.

Whatever the Inuzuka did, hidden by the rising cloud of purplish fog, it must have hit home. Tenten went spinning and landed with a heavy thud at the border of the field, holding her bleeding bicep and swearing vehemently under her breath. A giant white dog lying on the sidelines howled triumphantly, shifting restlessly in place to keep its weight off of its heavily bandaged chest, and Kiba punched a fist in the air and howled back.

"Tenten out," Iruka shouted. "Shino in!"

Another contemplative stretch of early-morning peace followed as Shino carried out his silent, devious strategies. Naruto hummed under his breath, considering whatever was on his mind in relative silence. Iruka watched the bouts as they raged across the field, occasionally giving advice or tips (Choji, you're not guarding your back! Hinata, your block is a little weak. Watch out for that, okay? Kiba, this is a training exercise! Take it easy!).

"Teacher..."

"Hm?"

"What's outside the wall?"

"Well, we're not really-" started Iruka absentmindedly, then paused, blinked once or twice, and frowned sternly. "Naruto, that's classified!" The boy's face set abruptly into a stubborn scowl and Iruka groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as though to allay a sudden headache.

"Naruto... I know for a fact that you haven't even taken the Journeyman exam yet. Shikamaru is the only one who I'm allowed to even talk about this with."

"Shikamaru has outsiders in his basement," Naruto muttered, "I'm sick of weeding people's flower beds when he's out doing classified stuff and meeting people with no eyebrows-"

"He's working for the most dangerous man in the compound, Naruto," Iruka chided, "he runs the holding cells for the most dangerous intruders we've ever seen. If you want to work under Morino Ibiki for-I'll admit, a terrible wage-and stay locked up in your basement with criminals all day, then you should go and apply for a job."

"Like Scarface would give him a job!" Kiba skidded to his knees next to Naruto, throwing up a cloud of dirt and grass. "Dead-last Naruto, an interrogator? Yeah right!"

"I could if I wanted to!" Naruto growled, then jumped to his feet when Kiba rolled his eyes pityingly. "You wanna fight?" Within seconds the subject of outsiders was completely forgotten as the two tussled and scratched, play-fighting like a pair of the Inuzuka dogs.

"Interrogator? Heaven forbid," Iruka murmured under his breath, and leaned back to watch the matches, a nostalgic smile on his face.

It was quite a while later, and Temari was doing push-ups and Shikamaru was making a package of ready-heat soup with veggies. His boss had, to his interest but not his surprise, apparently stocked his refrigerator again at some point during the past day and a half with all sorts of easily-made, high-calorie food. Also, his stove was mysteriously functioning again. Obviously these people, whoever they might happen to be, where much more important than his boss had let on. Maybe the Leaf Shadow...

...No. No, no, no. That was the kind of question that got you fired. 'Take care of the outsiders'; that was the only thing he had to do. A full fridge, no figures of authority to bother him, and a perfect position to do a little 'information gathering' of his own-

--wait, no. That's a bad idea, remember? How stupid of you would it be to lose yourself a job like this just because you couldn't keep your nose out of other people's business? You would have to be a moron, Nara.

"Hey, Nara."

Shikamaru hissed between his teeth as steaming broth sloshed over his fingers. Only a strange little sidestep-kind of undignified dance, really-kept the stuff from broiling his feet, and he heard the troublesome woman snicker as he struggled to regain his balance. He turned around and glared at her with all the dignity he could manage, balancing four bowls on a tray on one hand and sticking the other fingers gingerly in his mouth as they started to turn a scorched lobster-shell pink.

"What, woman?"

Temari grunted as the tip of her nose touched the floor, not sparing the energy to look up at her host. "It smells freaky down here. When was the last time you showered?"

Shikamaru opened his mouth to deliver a scornful response, then frowned as the question registered. A week... two weeks? He ran through his memories of the past few weeks as he set the soup down on the counter, automatically reaching out to turn off the stove. When was the last time you visited Mom and Dad?

"...about two and a half months ago," he pronounced eventually, and rolled his eyes at the expression on her face. "Honestly, the woman who has been living in the forest for four weeks thinks I should take showers every day too? I guess girls stay the same no matter where they go."

"I haven't showered in more than six months," Temari informed him, a slight note of triumph in her voice (and only someone as stupidly competitive as Troublesome Temari could turn 'longest stretch of filthiness' into a competition), "That's why I don't understand why you wouldn't have a shower when you had one you could use. If you're not going to use it, I want to."

Gaara nodded fervently. Kankuro rolled his eyes and made a few dismissive gestures from his lounging spot on the floor, then winced as Temari smacked him succinctly on the side of the head. "And don't let me catch you using language like that again, either," growled the girl, and pushed herself up one last time on trembling arms. Even as she lowered herself to the ground for the last time, her shoulder gave a sharp pop. She winced briefly, then ignored it completely and rolled over onto her back, folding her arms behind her head. For a second it looked like she was going to go to sleep right there on the floor and Shikamaru felt a tiny, inexplicable pang of relief that the woman was capable of being normal. Then she gritted her teeth and started doing crunches. Shikamaru groaned internally and tried to forget how long it had been since he went out and trained properly. Too long.

"Gaara wants to know if you have any-" (Sharp inhale, long, slow exhale) "-clothes we can use. Fifteen. Sixteen..."

"Probably," Shikamaru muttered, remembering the mysterious, newly-stocked fridge. "I wouldn't be surprised. The shower's over there."

"Gaara, you can go first."

The boy nodded and got up. The effort was obviously still taxing for him, but when he finally got to his feet his footsteps were soundless and his movements unnaturally coordinated. He crossed the room in a few startlingly fast motions and vanished through the doorway with a flash of pale cloth and dingy red hair.

Shikamaru watched him go and frowned. Gaara wasn't the weirdest person he'd ever met, not by a long shot. He had been in Aburame Shino's class in the Academy, and had spent a good deal of his Journeyman exam dodging splatters of Tenten's shape-shifting, deadly, and-more importantly-metallic blood. But the kid was definitely... odd. When he was in the room he made the hairs on the back of Shikamaru's neck stand up, and when he left he left the impression of never having been there at all; he came and went like some kind of red-headed ghost. Interesting...

A hand reached in front of his face and snatched one of the soup bowls.

Kankuro made the harsh, breathy noise that Shikamaru was starting to recognize as a laugh, and the Nara realized he had been standing there, staring at the door with his mouth hanging open. For heaven's sake, how long had he been out of action? He'd must have been just standing there-with a distinctly Uzumaki-Naruto-like expression on his face, even-for what must have been at least two and a half minutes. He marshaled his expression hastily and grabbed a bowl of soup as Temari surfaced over the back of the couch, pink-faced with exertion, hiding the trembling in her arms by busily straightening her clothes and wiping sweat from her forehead.

"Soup," Shikamaru said plainly, and shoved a bowl her way before slouching back to his couch and settling into the dented cushions. "Best food in the world."

"Because you actually like it, or because you're too lazy to make anything else?" Temari held up a hand before he could answer, grinning. "Never mind. I already know the answer to that one."

"Hngh," said Shikamaru intelligently, and gulped more scalding hot broth.

A long silence followed. Somewhere in another room, there was the sound of water running. Temari drank down her soup slowly, considering the basement as Kankuro pulled himself to his feet and slouched over to counter to dig through Shikamaru's cabinets.

Temari slammed her bowl down on the table with a crack like-Shikamaru winced-breaking pottery, and turned to the genius with a triumphant expression on her face. "I know what it is!"

Shikamaru blinked at her for a few seconds, but she didn't seem to be inclined to add anything on to that. "You know..." He prompted, raising his eyebrow like his dad always did when he thought Shikamaru wasn't thinking his moves through carefully enough. "...don't just stand there all day, woman. You just cracked one of my only bowls. It would be polite to tell me why."

"I know why I hate it so much here!" Temari made a broad sweeping gesture that seemed to include anything and everything the basement had to offer-Shikamaru leaned back as the swinging hand ended its journey a few inches from his nose. "There's no air."

"There's plenty of air, troublesome woman," Shikamaru drawled patronizingly, and yet again felt that little pang of annoyance that this outsider was complaining over Leaf Compound property, "or we would be dead right-"

"You know what I'm talking about," Temari snapped, her satisfaction disappearing momentarily. "But there's no wind. I need the fresh air. Don't we get to go out at all? Or are we just going to be locked down here until we die?"

Shikamaru actually had to give that one some thought. It was very possible that Morino was never intending to let these people out into the fresh air ever again, no matter how thoroughly they proved themselves to be harmless (although the more he watched them, the more the inexplicable feeling crept over Shikamaru that these people weren't harmless; not by a long shot.) and that they were indeed destined to die in the cellars of the Leaf Compound. Then again from what he'd heard the Leaf Shadow was a really nice guy, and he had a grandson not much younger than Gaara. If he though they weren't a threat, not even Shikamaru's boss could keep them locked up underground...

"Dunno," he concluded finally, and Temari groaned in frustration and dropped back onto his couch, her head in her hands. Shikamaru frowned as a pang of guilt shot through him, and hurried to cut it off. "I've got to let you out sometimes I guess...but you'd be under constant surveillance and they'd seal off your chakra, so-"

"Chakra?" Temari laughed bitterly, not raising her head. "I don't have any anymore. Haven't had it for years."

...that was unexpected.

"You...lost your chakra." Never heard of anything like that. Impossible. The suspicion he'd felt when he first saw the outsiders returned, nudging at the back of his brain. She's probably lying to you to get you off guard.

Temari had glanced up sharply at the dubious tone in his voice; she must have seen the doubt in his eyes because she sat up a little straighter, visibly insulted by his lack of confidence in her word. "Think about it, Nara; if I could use chakra would I be this beat up by a few big bugs and your wimpy little forest?" Shikamaru felt a twinge in whatever small amount of national pride he had and opened his mouth to protest-those were some pretty nasty animals out there, and the thought that the Leaf Compound had substandard hazards was somehow insulting-but Temari talked over him. "Where I come from we have Coyotes the size of houses, and the creatures that live under the sand eat those for breakfast. That's where I trained."

"If it was that bad," Shikamaru interjected, "why didn't you just leave?" Kankuro came back and threw himself onto the couch heavily, laying down three of the extremely expensive oranges Shikamaru definitely hadn't put in his own cupboards. Shikamaru remembered the lecture he'd gotten, years and years ago; 'oranges are worth 3000 yen each. If I see you drop one more slice of that, I'm sending you out to do pushups!'-and winced internally as Kankuro tore the peel with his teeth and dug in like he ate oranges every day. Where was I... "It sounds far too troublesome to make a village there."

"It was," Temari said matter-of-factly. "But the first wind-shadow made The Wall, and they didn't dare try anything inside it. They knew if they did, we would have flattened them." Kankuro made an emphatic gesture like he was trying to punch the ceiling and Temari's mouth turned up at one corner. "...Kankuro says 'hell yes we would'."

Shikamaru was idly running through forty or fifty reasonable excuses to pry some of those troublesome hand signs out of Temari-she had never volunteered the meaning of any of them before now, so maybe this was a good time-when the sound of water in the other room stopped. There was a minute of quiet wherein Gaara did who-knew-what, and then his head poked out of the door, his face still dripping with water and even paler than before. Temari squinted at his hands across the room, then frowned and gestured back, motioning her little brother to come closer. Gaara shook his head, and another long string of silent conversation started.

That was still the most troublesome part of all; the fact that not only were these three an unknown factor, they also spoke a common language that was most definitely not in his vocabulary. Even if he did already know at least thirty or forty different words, and have theories about several others, the sign-language that the siblings had apparently invented was still 99% a mystery to Shikamaru. It didn't help that as the subject matter got more and more complicated both brothers had specialized their own specific dialects; as Gaara would get more emphatic, his gestures got more sweeping and commanding, like he was conducting some invisible orchestra, and as Kankuro sat alone and 'talked' to himself about Gods only knew what the words devolved-evolved?-into a series of precise, minute finger-movements, almost indistinguishable from harmless, nervous twitching.

And Temari, apparently, spoke both fluently. Shikamaru fought the urge to slam his head into something and devoted his mind instead to observing as Gaara mimed something that was, luckily, in fairly basic signs. Somewhere under layers of apathy and annoyance, his mind worked at lightning speed; making connection, translating. A second before Temari said it, he knew that-

"Gaara needs pants," Temari said, and then sniffed the air and turned sharply to look at her brother and his stash of oranges. "Hey, where did you get those? Gimme one." Kankuro shook his head emphatically. Temari's eyes narrowed in what Shikamaru was-after no more than four days, too-already beginning to recognize as a 'trouble' expression. Which meant that if he didn't do something soon, he was going to end up with a fight going on in his basement. His stuff wasn't sturdy enough to take the full force of the troublesome woman's wrath. Something would have to be done.

"Listen," he started, and then glanced over as Gaara waved politely but emphatically from the doorway. "I think I have some clothes down here. This is where I live, so my closet's just over there. I probably have more oranges too," he shot the woman a pointed look, then tried not to instinctively back down as she turned a razor-sharp, blue-green glare on him instead. She's way too much like my mom... what a drag... "And I might be able to get you outside," he added on impulse, and was relieved to see the anger diffuse, to be replaced with a wary interest.

"Is that you giving your word Nara, or is it you trying to keep me from being 'troublesome'?"

Shikamaru rolled his eyes and raised one hand sarcastically, pressing it to his heart. "Swear. Pinkie swear, if you like."

He was expecting her to sock him on the arm or something. Instead she gave him a calculating kind of look, tilting her head to one side as though weighing him up, and then held out a hand, pinkie outstretched.

"You aren't serious," Shikamaru muttered, "Really, troublesome woman? This is kid stuff! I was being a wise-ass and I am not going to pinkie swear, so you can drop that hand now."

Temari smirked back at him, and the hand stayed persistently where it was. "Swear you'll find a way to get us outside, Nara." Now Kankuro was smirking at him too, and although Shikamaru had never seen him smile like his sister did that smug expression seemed to be a family trait. It was like being watched by a pair of the Hyuuga clan's smug, white-furred cats.

He gave in. Better not to antagonize the woman anyway, especially since he was outnumbered three to one. His abilities were pretty strong, but he hadn't had a real fight in ages and he was pretty rusty; besides, the Shadow Bind was best used with backup, and there was definitely no backup for him here.

"Alright, fine," he muttered, and hooked their fingers together, thanking whatever powers were listening that Ino wasn't there to see this. She would have teased him for weeks, if not months. "But it's gonna take at least another few weeks." Temari shrugged and pulled her hand away, satisfied-for now, at any rate.

Gaara came out of the bathroom pulling on a shirt that was far too big for him as he came, and Shikamaru caught a second glimpse of the dark hourglass on his chest before it was obscured by an enormously baggy dark red shirt that must have been at least three sizes too big. It hung low on the back of his neck as well, and the genius realized again that he could see every single vertebrae in the boy's spine-and something that glinted faintly on the back of his neck...

Kankuro noticed it at the same time as Shikamaru. He grabbed Gaara's arm and pulled him around, peering at the base of the boy's skull with his good eye, then gestured for Temari to come over. Shikamaru reached over and flicked another light-switch, wiping away the comforting dimness as a few more of the ancient overhead lights flickered on, then walked over to join the group around the emaciated redhead.

There was a piece of metal buried in Gaara's spine.

Temari hissed between her teeth-whether from anger or fear or disgust it was hard to tell-and reached out, touching the lump of silvery metal with the tip of one finger. "Gaara...? Do you know what this is?"

Gaara shook his head and tried to crane his head around in a futile attempt to see the back of his own neck, then slashed a hand urgently through the air. What is it? Shikamaru guessed, and felt a thrill of success as Temari bit her lower lip and shook her head. "I don't know. It's like one of Kidomaru's earrings, but it's stuck to the back of your neck..." She traced the outline of the thing. "...right here."

Shikamaru squinted at Gaara's hands again, but this sentence was far beyond his limited vocabulary. Temari understood every word of it however, and her expression eased into a foul-tempered scowl. "Yeah, I bet you're right. I'm not going to mess with it then. That bastard... for all we know it'll kill you if we try to take it off." She cursed under her breath-the word was a foreign one to Shikamaru, but obviously a swear-word by the jagged snapping sound of the syllables-and curled one hand into a fist as though she was just itching to punch somebody. Shikamaru side-stepped with deceptive swiftness, getting her brother in between the two of them, before turning his attention on the matter at hand.

At close range the thing was strangely familiar; a small knob of tarnished, gleaming metal about the size and shape of a thumbprint It wasn't an old wound, as it had appeared from a distance; a circle of neat scar tissue surrounded where it penetrated the boy's skin, with a precision that could surely only have come from a trained surgeon.

"It looks like the stuff we used to get imported," he concluded eventually, and Gaara glanced at him with sudden interest. You know something about this? He mouthed. The genius shook his head absently and lowered his head, listening. Humming? A power source? Shikamaru reached out, hesitated, then pressed a fingertip to the metal-

He had a split second to register that even after being pressed against the boy's skin for who-knew-how-long and long exposure to hot water, the metal was icy cold. Then there was a crackle like the searing hiss of lightning and a sudden numbness all the way up his arm and...

...he was lying flat on his back on the ground, staring up at the ceiling.

It was strangely peaceful down here, even if he couldn't feel his arm. Shikamaru lay still for a few seconds, enjoying the peace of his now staticky world, before a pair of hands grabbed him by the front of his shirt and slapped him hard across the face. Sound filtered back in suddenly, penetrating the comforting silence abruptly with a sharp, low voice that was really, really familiar...

His brain processed the face swimming in front of him for the first time and the situation came flooding back into his mind as the Troublesome Woman pulled back a hand to slap him again, snarling more obscenities as she did so. "-just a little brat but if you are dead we're all in deep-"

"Okay, okay..." Shikamaru groaned, and swatted her hands away with his remaining arm, pitching forwards until he could sit up without falling over. "Fine, I'm up. I mean... I'm awake. Stop slapping, woman!"

Temari lowered her hand and let go of his shirtfront, dropping him bodily back onto the ground.

"Way to freak me out, Nara." She reached down a hand, which he considered sleepily for a few seconds before realizing that she was trying to off him a hand up. It's rude to disregard a woman when she's trying to do something for you, scolded the mother-voice in his head; you're implying you think she's either too weak to help you or you're so powerful you don't need help and believe me, you don't want her to think-pay attention when I'm talking, Nara Shikamaru!

He took the hand gingerly, and Temari hissed between her teeth as a crackling jolt jumped between their hands, but heaved him to his feet anyway. Shikamaru frowned. Was that a stagger he saw? Temari had managed to get her footing again so fast it was hard to tell, but the unsteady, wobbling steps had almost definitely been there. "When was the last time you slept, woman?"

"A few hours ago," Temari said defensively. "Why?"

"Mm.." Shikamaru tightened his grip as the woman started to pull away, holding on tight. "Squeeze on my hand."

Temari glared at him like he had gone insane, tugging on his arm. "No. Why should I?"

"Listen," Shikamaru tried, holding on gamely as she wrenched his arm from side to side. "I'm not going to let go until you give me a reason to, and there's no reason you can give me except proving that you're not going to die from some kind of weird outsider disease. So squeeze my hand."

Temari rolled her eyes, but her hand-strangely hot and calloused and dry for a girl's hand-tensed around his own.

Shikamaru waited. And waited.

"Go on."

"I am," Temari growled. Her hand twitched, but the pressure barely intensified. "It's... what did you do?"

"I..." Shikamaru frowned and let go of her hand. Temari seemed to try holding on for a second, as though she was trying to force her traitorous hands to do their job properly, but even as the Nara's hand pulled away her fingers started slowly trembling. She stared at them, ignoring him as he backed away. "I think I just activated something. Jeez...you people are a pain! Sit down before you fall down, woman. Gaara." Gaara turned to him, looking-if not panicky or even scared-worried. "Do you feel anything?"

Gaara shrugged and signed. Temari looked shocked and numb, but translated anyway as though she was on automatic. "...a little bit dizzy, like there was a shock when you touched the thing on the back of my-his-neck. Other than that, I'm fine..."

"Good." Shikamaru held up his own hand, flexing the numbed fingers, contemplating, remembering the humming of the metal and the charge that had slammed through him. "Charged... charged with... charged with..." No chakra... "When did you stop being able to mold chakra?"

Kankuro motioned something angrily, and Shikamaru recognized a sliding, violent gesture as the name of the man 'Sakon'-the bare-handed surgeon who had the ability to mute someone just by getting skin contact with their throat. "Just after Sakon..." He said, and Temari closed her mouth abruptly, derailed by the sudden change of translator. "...Sakon... what?"

Temari was staring at him. "How did you..?"

"You said Sakon put a hand in his throat," Shikamaru said, and imitated the motion clumsily. "It's sliding through skin, right? It's easy to see the basic ones. But that's his name, not what he did. What did he say, woman?"

"Uh..." Temari blinked at him, still momentarily nonplussed, then shook her head as though trying to throw away the confusion. "Say it again, Kankuro?" Kankuro gestured emphatically, repeating the word a few times with a sarcastic emphasis. "Oh. He says..." she hesitated for a second. "...after Sakon started to experiment on him. Same for me. Gaara?"

Gaara nodded. He too was bending and flexing his fingers, looking troubled. Shikamaru cursed internally as the full implications of this spreading numbness occurred to him-someone incapable of speaking, suddenly losing movement as well; Gaara (and Kankuro too, if this continued to spread) would be rendered incapable of communication. How where you supposed to question someone if they were mute and paralyzed?

Shikamaru ran over a hundred different options in his head, discarding each of them one by one. No medical ninja could get in, because no one could get in. No one could get out either, unless he unlocked the basement security to let in a medic in which case it would be his fault if the outsiders escaped and he might lose his job (and his basement-going back to his mother's house was not his favorite idea right now.) for negligence.

Executive decision made.

"Hey, woman," he started, and was encouraged by the sharp ferocity Temari packed into her glare. If she was dying of a fatal disease, she wouldn't have the energy to look that utterly bothersome. "You wanted to go outside, right..?"


...No, she's just saying that because she likes to hear herself talk. Stupid genius! He's fun to write though, even though I'm not a genius so I can't write his thoughts nearly as well as I want to. The analysis is fun; if he's not careful Temari's going to start figuring out that she's giving a ton of stuff away. :D

Now that FF has a review response button, you guys don't have to slog through the review responses anymore! But I love the way you guys give reviews-so detailed and cool. Please, for the sake of my productivity, keep it up! I love it.

Yours, MFS