AN: Un-beta-proofed, but that's because I couldn't wait to put this up. What the hell? I thought I was done with this thing! I sat down and typed up six pages in three hours!

You can blame this little miracle on the loving praises/ longings for more of Imperial Mint, Skittatles, and Can You Say Lazy?, each of which helped to totally guilt the creative flow back into sync. Apparently this thing had a hell of a lot more life to it than I thought.

To all Sai lovers, I use this as my apology for the Hiatus, and as pacification for the likelihood that this chapter-writing-streak may dry up yet again, so it is now on an off-again on-again Hiatus. I've got a big-ass project of my own to tackle, and I don't know if I can divert the proper energy for the plot (which is finally finished in my head).

Still, let this be a message though, that the more you ALL review and give me feedback, the better chance and reason I have to write!

Oh, and any criticism on how to make Gaara and Itachi seem more in-character would be helpful, cuz I'm lost.


Chapter 12: Gathering Oomph

My dreams over the next few weeks are dark and thick―complicated. I cannot close my eyes without replaying the scene in Kakashi's classroom or the horrors I've watched Gaara commit (and sometimes helped with). I cannot go to bed without hearing Jiraiya's challenges and pearls of wisdom ring through my ears, mingling with the echoes of Itachi's lectures.

I avoid Iruka now, not meeting his eyes, ditching his extra-credit projects in favor of Jiraiya's readings, essays, and ANBU's articles. It aches to do this, but I manage, and today, the beginning of Thanksgiving Break, I almost feel as though a burden is slowly starting to slip from my soul.

I think I'm outgrowing him.

I rise late, relishing in my sleep, listening to Kyuubi purr contently at the back of my mind. He's had quite the fill of bloodshed, because Gaara's "trial membership" still applies, and Itachi has been keeping police interference to a minimum, leaving us lots of time to "play."

It's also given me time to notice Kankuro's constant company, which makes my hackles raise in a way I'm not sure how to read, and gets Kyuubi rilled in a way I don't want to read.

I make my tea and move onto my tiny balcony where I keep a battered lawn chair and a copy of my latest fixation, Mr. China Mieville. I bitched about being board with the real-world fiction the old Toad was shoving down my throat so he threw Perdido Street Station at my head.

God, but reading something out of this guy's head is like taking an acid trip through Alice and Wonderland with Burgess, Poe, and The Beatles' lyricist.

I get about half way to half way through the book when something bright and shiny flashes out of the corner of my eye. I look up, look around, and can't find anything, so I chalk it up to a shiny car in the street below and turn back to my book.

There it is again!

This time I have to put down my book, because the bright flash plays over my eyes, and it takes both hands to avoid being totally blinded. Who the hell--?

The light moves and I can open my eyes to squint at a person across the street. Who?

He's letting the sun bounce off a piece of metal or mirror or something to make a blinding reflection that feels warm in the shade of my building. He moves it over me, up and down until I wave my arms and stand to show he's got my attention. He waves back and gestures for me to come over, and now I'm curious, so I ignore my urges to flick him the finger and give him a thumbs-up instead.

What the hell? Mieville can wait.


"Good morning!" the guy says with all the propriety and cheer of Mary Poppins. I couldn't make out much before, but standing three feet away on the sidewalk in front of a café by his building I can get a good long look at my eyes' attacker. He's got a black bowl-cut that manages to look only mildly better than Lee's with the addition of a bad-ass bandanna, all black clingy clothes, and a pale smile that doesn't reach his intelligent but totally blank eyes. "My name is Mr. Sai. You are Mr. Uzumaki, yes?"

"Uh...yes?"

He cocks his head. "I don't understand. You are Naruto Uzumaki, or you aren't. Your answer should be a statement, not a question."

"Uh-huh..." What the hell is with this guy? He talks like a computer manual. He pulls out a scrap of paper and reads from it.

"Are you Naruto Uzumaki, of apartment 143 of MishimotoApartments, age 17, A-level student at Fowler High School with SAT scores of--"

"Give me that!" I snatch it from his hands. "What the hell man? Who are you?" The paper is a list of half my life's details, personal and public, right down to the color of my PJ bottom. I blush. "Where did you get this? You been watching me?"

His smile is still fixed to his face and he takes the paper back. "I assure you, Mr. Uzumaki, that how I got the information is the least of your concerns. What you should be asking, is not have I been watching you, but why I would want to waste my time watching a high school student."

I huff. "Fine then―why?"

His smile gets almost sickly sweet and he passes me two business cards. "That is a discussion for another time. Today, I would simply like to give you my card, and request you pass this other one on to Mr. Sabaku and Mr. Uchiha, and have them call me at their leisure. I can assure all of you, it will be very much in your best interests."

I glance at the cards which only carry Sai's name and a number, but freeze when I flip the one for Gaara and Itachi and read the back.

It says: Join ROOT―we're always watching!

A messy K.S. is scrawled in the corner.

ROOT―I know that word. It makes Kyuubi and I snarl.

When I look up to demand what the hell "Sai" is playing at, he's gone, and I can only gape and fume.

Oh, I am socalling Tsunade!


I see the old woman next when she calls to tell me of Sakura's latest attention-grabbing-gimmick. I was the only one who could get onto the roof where she'd done the deed, but I refused to tell Tsunade anything more about what she'd done than that the blades of a broken fan had been involved.

She'd just looked at me with a twisted expression and gone to fix us tea while I put Sakura to bed.

Now we sit across from each other, both tense and worried for our own reasons, but all topics seem to come back to the girl in the other room.

"Why do you let her do it?" I ask at last, considering her with a sip of tea. It's bland.

"I don't know," she says with a faraway expression. "I suppose I'm too tired to put in the effort to fix her, and that's wrong, I know. But I gave up on saving people a long time ago." She watches her face distort in the cup. "What about you? After all she's done to you--how can you still love her?"

I shrug. "Not sure I still do. Habit, I guess. I've gotten used to being good at something," I grin grimly. "And lets face it―who's better at fixing the ruined than the damaged?"

She toasts me.

"Before I forget, does the name 'Sai' mean anything to you?"

She frowns. "No. Why? Does it mean something to you?"

"Not sure yet. But he gave me this," I pass her the card, "Intending for me to pass it on to a few K.S. friends of mine. Check the back."

She flips it over and the reaction is immediate; her face goes bleach white, her eyes bulge, and a gargled scream/gasp escapes her mouth. The card is thrown away like something nasty.

"R.O.O.T.! Oh, gods―R.O.O.T.!"

"Exactly my reaction," I say grimly. "And I have to assume they mean what they advertise―the man who gave that to me was watching me. Closely."

"Holy shit," she takes a big ol' swig of her tea, as though at the end of the Chamomile there might be some important answers. But when she finishes, the only new development is the fear scenting the room.

It's not mine.

I scrape up the card for her and she examines it closely, but the way her fingers hold it―like it could shatter, or explode at any second―belies her paranoia. I don't blame her. I buried my personal copy of the card at the bottom of my discarded work pile, nervous about keeping it, but too curious to burn the thing. After all--

"Why would a member of R.O.O.T. sign the card with a Kiss?" I ask aloud.

Tsunade shakes her head. "Probably so that the word will spread that they've been reformed. They might just be trying to scare us without going public with this. I'd guess they're also making a statement."

"Like what? Shouldn't their name cause enough panic?"

"They want us to know that they know more than we think, and the K.S. is living on borrowed time. Think about it―if they know who one of us is, they can corner all of us in a second. And if they know who one of us is, then someone had to have told them."

"We've got a leak? Shit. I need to make some calls."

"Naruto, who did he want you to give this to? Specifically?"

"My life's not worth sharing that one. Let's just say they're big-time players in the making. Why?"

"It's just...there's another possibility...one that could turn the tide in our favor, but one I wouldn't have thought possible, except you said he's looking for someone specifically, because he'd need protection--"

"Tsunade, spit it out!"

"I wonder if it's not R.O.O.T. that's got the leak?"


I tell Itachi and Gaara the news in the back ally of Gaara's favorite sweet shop. Gaara punches the wall so hard he makes the brick crumble slightly. Itachi's face tightens up until I swear he's going to have an anurism.

"Yeah, I know," is all I can say.


Spending time with Gaara means spending time with his siblings, and while I enjoy Kankuro's company (especially when he plays), Temari drives me mad. It takes a lot of effort to watch her seduce the dealers into giving discounts or free-bees without insulting her, and even more effort not to follow her into the shadows of Club Kabuki, her fingers laced with a blissed-out pineapple-head. He always looks high before they've even shot up―crazed on the closeness of the leggy blond woman.

Chouji has not sat with our group in a month.

Tonight is different, though. The gathering is not at Club Kabuki, surprisingly. Instead it's a rave held in the bowels of a crumbling warehouse at the edge of the business district. Gaara says it's to be a prelude to a much more important gathering―the first of many. Kank's band is playing the opening music, and once I told him their names, Gaara insisted I invite my friends. Said he wanted to see the "potential of those I surround myself with."

Of course they all came. Kiba thought it would be a perfect opportunity to take Hinata out somewhere public, and so Shino naturally followed. Chouji was bitter about it because Temari would be there, but Lee threw himself around as enthusiastically as possible, jumping like a manic frog with glee.

When we enter, the air is filled with sweat, fake fog, strobe lights, and a throbbing mass of bodies. Kiba grabs Hinata around the waist and hauls her into the crowd before I can say anything and Shino, Chouji, and Lee escape into the shadows and music soon after. It's fine. Gaara will find them when he feels like it.

Instead of joining, I slink around the edges, watching the flash of blue, green, and red lights bounce of the instruments on stage and make the perspiration on people's skin flicker. Kyuubi urges me to join, to jump into the primal motions like the animal he is―the animal he says I am too. But I just watch and clench my fists in my pockets.

"...zu..ki...!"

This is not for me―this rush of sex-charged-adrenaline and fun. I don't remember feeling my sexuality stir since I was a boy, nor have I ever understood the same fun most have relished in their whole lives.

"Mr...U...ma...!"

Suddenly, I feel very...alone...and for the first time in...ever, really, I feel sad for it, instead of resentful, or vengeful.

"Mr...Uzumaki...!"

Where is this coming from?

"Mr. Uzumaki!"

"Ah!" I guess I got a bit distracted, which was stupid of me, considering who was yelling my name. Sai stands before me with a fake-as-tofurkey smile on his face. Damn. I let my guard down around a member of ROOT. Not good.

"There you are, Mr. Uzumaki. How nice of you to join us in the real world. Did you enjoy your momentary zone-out?"

"Er..."

Itachi and Gaara stand behind him with Death-glares-of-supreme-doom-and-hate on their faces. They don't even try to whisper their argument out of politeness.

"I thought you said this was for invited persons only," says Itachi tersely. Well, as tersely as you can speak in monotone.

"I did. He found his own way in," Gaara sort-of-snaps.

"Why didn't your stupid thugs catch him?"

"He incapacitated the ones guarding the back. No idea how, considering there's not a mark on them."

Itachi snorts. "Pathetic."

Sai just smiles.

"I suggest we get him out of here before the main festivities--"

But Itachi is cut off before he can finish by the sound of noisemakers, hissing sparklers, and banging firecrackers, all arranged to create an artful KS on the wall behind Kankuro'sband, the lights all zooming in on the forbidden symbol. The crowd goes wild and banners with familiar but banned names (Sarutobi, Maito, Rasengan, Hokage, Sannin, Art of the Whirlpool, Bijuu, Beast Dancing, Nara, Inuzuka, ANBU, Rock, Hiraishin and so many more) unravel from the catwalk railing in brilliant reds and whites. Black ones fall too, with names like Uchiha, Kazekage, and, most prominently, ROOT.

I can feel Sai's blank eyes drilling holes into the back of my head.

The biggest banner unfurls right above the still sparkling KS to reveal a man with big blue eyes, blond hair, and a serine face dressed all in white. The smaller ones open up to read, Minato Namikaze, 1999-2019," and "RIP Revolution."

To top this all off, the crowd starts a mass worship of Namikaze's image with screams and cries of agony and ecctacy while simultaniously vandalizing the Hyuuga and ROOT banners by clawing at them and shooting masses of silly string and party booze and anything else they might have on hand at them.

We are going to jail.

In five sets of handcuffs and a full escort of cop cars,Kyuubi agrees.

In unison, Itachi, Gaara, and I drag our eyes from the blatant lawbreaking to look at Sai. Its almost as if we expect him to produce an entire squad of ROOT operatives from out of his ass. But he just smiles at us.

"This is an illegal promotion of the Kohona Society, isn't it?" he says as though he were talking of the weather. I can see panic rising in Gaara's eyes as his hands flex.

"Yes, yes it is," is all I can say.

He nods slightly and sweeps his hand out before Itachi. "Continue, by all means gentlemen. I would like to see how this evening ends. Please take your places."

We all look at each other nervously, but Kankuro is already calling for the three of us to get on stage, so we cast wary looks at him and march onto the stage.

I stay as far away from the limelight as I can.

Remind me why I followed them up here?

Because you wanted to see people look up at you with awe, not disgust, remember?

Ah.

A man with a million piercings and red hair stands at the edge of the shadows, his sun-glasses sporting strange swirls of red and black. He looks very familiar. Itachi taps the mike to create feedback that shuts the crowd up fast.

Ow.

He says calmly, "I thank you for taking the risk of coming here tonight. As you can see, this is a party is a fairly monumental gathering, and there is a reason it was held tonight.

"Exactly seventeen years ago tonight, a great man's voice was wrongly silenced, due to the corruption and ignorance of the radical group known as ROOT--" he casts Sai a look. Ah, well; in for a penny, in for it all. "--and the biased rulings of our own government. We as Americans have stood by and watched our leaders become hypocrites and go back on the most basic freedoms allowed us by law for long enough."

The crowd roars, making up for all the enthusiasm lacking from his voice. But there is a hint in it of budding passion.

"Since the night of Namikaze's death, we have lived in shame and silence, denying the dreams we have dreamt since the Great Fall, pretending the advancements our culture has made do not mater, or did not happen. We let our children believe the lies the schools tell them, hide the remains of a once proud renaissance so that they do not suffer for knowing the truth. But no longer."

This is the first time I have heard Itachi raise his voice this loud. It sends tingles in my back.

"Tonight, we begin the rebirth of our society, and welcome the new face of change. From this night on, we will not stand in the shadows and destroy any chance we have to benefit our country. To better it. Tonight, I introduce to you the first public member of the Kohona Society as a running canidate for President of the United States. Tonight, I give you the editor of ANBU, Pain!"


He, he...Cliffy, Baby.

AN2: By the by, if enough people like the idea, and I actually put the story on permanent pause, I would like to host an audition for a writer who would like to take up the mantel of this story, or at least get a list of those interested, as I already have the plot planned out (to the last detail) and a few big bad climax scenes already written. If you're interested in getting your name in now, let me know in a review, so I know how many people want to see this thing continued.

I went on hiatus because this chapter did not meet my standards and neither has most of what I've written.