Episode 4: Interrogation

"Good morning," someone said as Shikamaru came to. A mere second after the words registered in the ANBU agent's mind a fist hit him in the stomach. Coughing over the sudden pain that had decided to occupy his body only a few seconds after waking, Shikamaru opened his eyes and took in the room around him.

It was a simple square room—though he could only see three of the four walls in the room, there was no telling what was behind him—with gray walls that had the faintest outlines of dried blood. Past occupants, Shikamaru guessed as he took in the rest of the room.

There was a metal door before him with a large locking mechanism and no window. There was a metal bench that ran the entirety of the front wall that was extremely low to the ground. More of a footrest than a bench. A single light hung over the entire room and it flickered every few seconds; the entire room breathed cheap and easily—and possibly constantly—repaired.

After he had taken in the scenery around him—all in about two seconds—Shikamaru examined the man in the black robes that stood before him.

His brown hair was ruffled and spiky; it seemed to ooze wild and crazy at the exact same time. His face was pale—disturbingly similar to Temari's own complexion—and it was covered in purple face paint that formed a triangular design that would have probably intimidated a lesser man. Shikamaru rolled his eyes.

The man's outfit was the same exact set up; all designed towards intimidation rather than comfort. There was no way the man before him could be comfortable in the pure black robes that covered his body. The cat ears were a bit of a through off though; why in the world he was wearing those was beyond even Shikamaru's educated guesses.

"Nice of you to finally wake up," the man said as he walked around behind Shikamaru and swung his first into the back of Shikamaru's head. The Konoha operative felt his world spin as stars exploded before his vision.

"Where's Temari?" Shikamaru demanded as he regained what he could of his bearings. That punch had hurt. The man's face darkened as his features crinkled in anger; it was awhile before he stopped hitting Shikamaru.

"Having fun yet?" The black clothed man asked—Shikamaru was almost sure he had been drinking by the smell of wine on his breath.

"PlentyNingyōtsukai" Shikamaru spat as blood dripped from his mouth and the sides of his head. The brown haired man had not been gentle with the ANBU operative. Shikamaru watched the man before him freeze—though only slightly—for a brief moment before he backhanded Shikamaru.

"So you do know the ancient tongue..." the man muttered softly as he eyed Shikamaru critically. "I guess that's why she-" the man started to add, only to be cut off by a brief—very deadly—cough. Pausing, the brown haired interrogator glanced behind Shikamaru before gulping as his eyes went wide. Without a word the man turned and opened the metal cell door and left. The door locked behind him.

Shikamaru sat in his metal chair—which was reinforced with metal chains and handcuffs to keep him restrained—for several minutes as the silence grew deafening. The entire time he was wondering who had sent the brown haired man away and why the mysterious man had yet to talk to Shikamaru.

"I hope Kankuro did not hurt you too much," an icy calm voice whispered right next to his ear.

Shikamaru, despite his many years as an ANBU operative and as a generally well disciplined—if poorly lacking in motivation—man, completely forgot all of his training—not an easy feat to accomplish in his case—and jumped right out of his skin. The tight metal restraints and heavy metal chair that was bolted to the floor kept him from going anywhere, but his obvious surprise caused the entity that was just outside of Shikamaru's vision to chuckle.

"I would like to ask you a few questions," the voice said as it's owner came into Shikamaru's view. Just as he had done with the brown haired man, Shikamaru took in his opponent in quick, rapid fire glances. He was shorter than the average Sunan—though there was nothing to indicate he was Sunan—with hair the same color as fresh blood. He had fair skin—another rarity that indicated he was not a native of the Wind country—and piercing green eyes.

His features seemed flawless; he did not have a single scar or even so much as a pimple decorating his smooth skin with the exception of a single kanji tattoo that was as red as his hair.. The only thing that was abnormal about him—besides the rare eye color, skin color, and hair color—was his lack of eyebrows; instead the area around his eyes were heavily caked in black tanuki styled eyeliner. Combining his physical appearance with his intimidating presence and Shikamaru could all but see "criminal mastermind" being written all over the man's files back in Konoha's intelligence department. Assuming they even had a file on him anyways.

"I want to know one simple thing," the red haired man said as he reached into his jacket. Shikamaru braced himself for some sort of torture device or weapon; however, nothing of the sort appeared from within the man's jacket. It was a set of keys.

The man took the keys and calmly unlocked Shikamaru's metal handcuffs and the rest of his restraints before turning around and sitting down in a chair that had mysteriously appeared while Shikamaru was distracted with his restraints being removed. Seeing Shikamaru's expression, the man offered a mirthless chuckle.

"I know far too well what it is like to be locked up," the man said as he continued to stare at Shikamaru. "And I know far too little about you," he added as if just thinking of it. A short silence filled the room as the two men stared at each other; Shikamaru was weighing his chances of escaping and the other man seemed for all the world simply intent on staring into Shikamaru's narrow brown eyes.

"You won't escape," the man assured Shikamaru, causing the agent to jump slightly. He hadn't even been staring at the door! How had he-

"Why did you sleep with the women that was with you?" The red haired man asked at last as he leaned forward only slightly as he stared intently at Shikamaru's face. He wasn't disappointed with a expressionless mask. He rarely was.

Shock, confusion, surprise, anger, and rage flashed across Shikamaru's face and he nearly lunged out of his seat. Barely keeping his calm, he answered the question with a curt response; biting off every word.

"What business is it to you?"

The man smirked slightly, "everything is my business," he informed Shikamaru. "Especially Temari's," he added with a pointed look at Shikamaru.

"Who are you?" Shikamaru demanded as he glared at the man. "Is she your wife or something?"

"If it were that simple, I would have killed you already," the man said simply as he leaned back into his seat. "I am waiting."

Shikamaru stared into the teal eyes for a moment; only to give up once he realized it was like staring into a thunderstorm. It was impossible after a few seconds, the calm intensity within was simply too strong to behold for too long.

"I was drunk," Shikamaru admitted as he answered the man's question after another short moment of silence. The red haired man did not react in any way other than to raise a single non-existent eyebrow. "She was too," Shikamaru added.

"Where are you from Shikamaru," the man asked quietly; he did not even pause over the foreign name. He seemed incapable of such a simple thing as making a mere mistake or error. Judging from what he had gleamed from the conversation so far, Shikamaru was convinced the red haired man had never even been told "no" more than once in his life.

"Mochi," Shikamaru stated calmly as he let his double life take over. "I'm here looking for work, not trouble."

The red haired man smirked again, "you posses the most terrible or most spectacular luck I have witnessed," he said before standing up and walking over to the door. "Please don't try to escape Mr. Shikamaru, I would hate to have to return your corpse to Konoha, it would be terribly inconvenient," he said before leaving Shikamaru—who had frozen solid with ice cold terror—in his cell and locking the door behind him.

"You had better let him go Gaara!" Temari snapped after Gaara—once again—denied the possibility of releasing her current lover from the dungeon. Gaara merely continued to write on a document that sat on his desk. Kankuro stared at his older sister with such profound shock that she was worried he might collapse from a heart attack.

"You seem to care an awful lot about this man from Konoha," Gaara stated calmly—though his voice was laced with ice—as he signed off on the document and placed it on a stack sitting on one corner of his desk. He then proceeded to pull another from a separate stack before opening it and writing on it as he read just as he had done with the last five.

"He's from Mochi!" She stated in exasperation as she placed her hands on either side of the document, forcing Gaara to stare up at her. "You're going to release him," she stated with iron solid determination.

Gaara's mouth turned into a hard line before he closed the document he had been reading and placed it back on the stack it had come from originally. He then picked up the stack of completed documents and gestured for Kankuro to come closer.

"Please deliver these for me," Gaara said with the same calm tone, though his eyes raged. Kankuro sheepishly took the files before all but bolting form the room like a startled baby pup caught in the trash. As soon as the door shut Gaara stood up and walked around his desk towards Temari. Despite her inner anger and self-righteous determination to free Shikamaru, she backed up slightly as he approached. It wasn't fast enough.

SMACK!

Gaara stared at her coldly as she held her bright red cheek. "Why," he demanded as he clenched his fists. "Why," he repeated as she stared at him in shock. He hadn't hit her. Ever.

"I-I..." Temari started to say, only her words failed her; she was still in shock from the hit.

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

Gaara calmly lowered his hand—which was growing red—back to his side as he stared at her quivering lips. "I do not like doing this," Gaara said quietly as Temari shook violently. "Please answ-"

"SHUT UP!" Temari roared, causing Gaara's face to flash in surprise for the barest moment. "Just shut up!" she cried as she shook even harder.

"Te-" Gaara started to say, only for the women in question to fling a fist—not a lady-like slap but a fist—at his forehead. As he had done since his early childhood, Gaara easily blocked the attack and calmly punched her back. It was automatic, but it still hurt her to know he would hit her. Really hit her.

"Why are you doing this?" Gaara asked as he crouched down to stare at her as he rocked on his heels. "You have never defied me before."

"I...I..." Temari started to say, only to shake violently as she stared at Gaara desperately. It threw the man for a loop as he wondered just what was wrong with his sister. She had ran off after Yashamaru's death and returned in the custody of his guards after being seen with a man—a foreigner—that one of his barkeeps had informed him was sharing Temari's bed.

Temari seemed to come to some sort of resolution and finally answered his long sought answer. He had demanded it the second after she had refused to allow Gaara to kill him—she had never done such a thing with any of her past lovers. The answer she gave was not the answer Gaara wanted to hear however.

"I love him,"