Whoo! Done early! Don't have time for a big long author's note, because my dad's on my back to go to bed, but I will say that I am very happy with how this turned out, I don't own Naruto, and REVIEW!

...

Fumiko hadn't slept, but she wasn't tired yet. One night? No problem. Five nights? Piece of cake. Fumiko could stay awake for weeks. She'd probably be tired after this whole ideal, but a night of sleep and she would be good as new again. And anyway, she had emergency sugar.

It was the second day of the Chuunin exams, and, true to her word, Fumiko was making a conscious effort not to seek out the sand siblings or Gaara. Instead she made her way through the forest and avoided the other competitors at any cost, which was part of the reason why she wasn't at the tower yet. The exams were as hard as she'd anticipated, and her progress was slowed by poisonous plants, animals, people, and the lack of easy food.

Fumiko had had some trouble with food. She really didn't mind the lack of sleep, it was almost fun anticipating and avoiding the Genin, and if she waited long enough, the wildlife would let her know if a plant was dangerous or not. But the problem was, most of it was dangerous, and she couldn't eat that. She didn't really know how to set traps, and despite how easy it seemed, she couldn't catch any fish barehanded, and she had no idea how to make a rod.

The downside of living in a desert? One has absolutely zero experience with how to live in a jungle.

Rather than dwell on her rumbling stomach throughout the first night, Fumiko had made her way through the forest, dodging teams and searching unsuccessfully for something to eat. One team, who she had assumed was from Sound from their headbands, had chased her for half a day after spotting her. By the time Fumiko had managed to shake them off, she was even farther from the tower, hungry, and a little bit spooked by a plant that had tried to eat her.

But she had stayed optimistic. They wouldn't make this impossible for the Genin, so there had to be a way to survive. For the day she ate about a fourth of her sugar, which didn't really help but still brightened her mood considerably. Fumiko had started off again, leaping from tree to tree and hiding from the occasional teams until she had missed a branch and tumbled to the ground next to the river.

After a few seconds of confused scrambling, she had regained her wits. It was getting dark again, and that made it almost impossible to see the branches of the trees. Then, unable and unwilling to try again, Fumiko had decided to wash off and try again to catch a fish.

Now her pants were rolled up to her knees. Fumiko waded out into the shallowest area of the riverbank, watching the fish go by, waiting for a big- and possibly slow- one to swim past. The water felt good on her legs, but she'd have to make sure to dry out her prosthetic carefully.

It was literally impossible to catch a fish with your hands. They flopped, writhed, and squirmed; their scales were slimy and wet, and Fumiko couldn't get a decent hold on any that she actually managed to grab. Which wasn't a lot.

While she was wrestling a fish out of the water, it's tail smacked her squarely in the face. In shock, Fumiko reeled backwards and dropped the fish. Her prosthetic caught on something, a rock maybe, and Fumiko dropped with a cry and a splash.

Fumiko sat, half-submerged in water up to her chest, wet and stunned and without her fish.

What happened next was purely an accident.

Fumiko didn't know why, just that she was growing- dare she say it?- annoyed at the fish, annoyed at her protesting stomach, and annoyed at the prosthetic that had suddenly given out on her, and the next one that swam by, taunting her, was suddenly the viewer.

Fumiko learned that she could put fish under a Genjutsu.

The fish stopped dead in the water, just drifting with the current, (in it's mind) swimming on like nothing had changed. Fumiko, surprised, wobbled back to her feet. In the confusion, one of her pant legs had fallen back down, but she was already soaked anyway, so she didn't roll it back up. She splashed through the water after the quickly floating fish.

Fumiko simply reached her hands into the river and pulled the fish out, laughing. It didn't fight, or flop, just stayed limp. It (thought it was) still swimming, far away from the large feet in the water, not in the hands of a girl humming to herself and skipping through the water back to shore.

Fumiko may not have known how to catch a fish or carve a rod, but she definitely knew how to start a fire. In a village of sandstorms, power outages, and cold nights, you needed to be able to light the fireplace or you'd either freeze to death, or have no light for days on end.

She found sticks, dry leaves, and a few scraps of dried out moss to light a decent cooking fire. Fumiko expertly twirled the twigs beneath her fingers, and soon enough she had a cheerful little flame going. It was even darker now, and she decided to rest for the night and head out to the tower tomorrow. While the fire grew she cleaned the fish, and eventually had a surprisingly delicious dinner.

Of course she put sugar on it, along with a few sprigs of some leaf that tasted really good and wasn't poisonous. Her belly was full, and she was warm. She wasn't sleeping- she couldn't, there were still people on the hunt who wouldn't realize she wasn't on a team- but she didn't need to. Instead, she painted on the tree she was leaning on and occasionally tossed a stick into the fire to keep it going.

The small campfire crackled and hissed comfortingly. Softly glowing embers danced in the air just above it, swirling on the hot air. Fumiko dotted yellow and orange onto the rough wood, and swished black around them in an abstract way that still showed the tree's bark. She wondered who would find it, and if they would wonder who had painted it.

...

Nobody disturbed her but a squirrel. Fumiko cleaned all of the leaves and dirt out of her prosthetic, and after she dried it out, put it immedietly back on. She'd learned years ago that running or fleeing in a hurry was impossible if she didn't have it on already.

An owl hooted somewhere, and Fumiko mimicked the call quietly. To her surprise, the owl hooted back, and before Fumiko could respond, another joined in. Fumiko giggled softly and hummed under her breath. The night bore on, and by the time sunlight peeked through the trees, Fumiko was packed back up, refreshed and ready to go.

She hauled herself all the way up to the top of the tree to watch the sunrise- after all, she was an artist first and a ninja second. After that (the colors blended amazingly together, by the way, and the treetops scattered and held the light like fragmented glass. Noted) she slid back down to a normal height and set out to the tower, which she had seen framed against the sunrise.

Fumiko was in much better spirits now, and she traveled along the river as best she could from the trees. Darting from branch to branch, the wind gusting her hair back behind her, Fumiko felt perfectly happy and ecstastic at the beauty of the woods.

But she forgot that there was foreboding shadowed in these trees.

...

Blood.

Gaara flinched. Even when the Shukaku whispered, his voice was loud and abraisive in his head, echoing like the crashing ring of a bell, rattling his skull. His outward appearance didn't change, but Gaara's instant pounding headache almost made him whimper. Shukaku's voice was getting louder, which was bad, because that meant he wasn't going to give up this time.

I need- you need blood.

No, Gaara shot back.

You like blood. I like blood. Red and warm and so easy to get.

I said no!

"People ahead," Kankurou called over his shoulder at Temari and him. "D'you think they have a Heaven scroll?"

"Could be," Temari mused. "We should-"

Gaara glanced through the trees quickly, a little bit uninterested and slightly worried. The movement combined with his headache made him almost nauseous. Instantly he knew it was a mistake when he saw the ninja in the clearing. It was the full team of three, and it seemed like they were looking for them. It was hard to miss Gaara's chakra when he wasn't masking it.

Kill them, Shukaku crooned. You don't know them, they're not important.

I don't care.

Blood, Gaara. They have it. You're allowed.

Gaara's eyes narrowed, the only outward sign of his struggle. It blocked out the light a little bit, which eased his headache until the Shukaku's clamoring peaked his pain past the breaking point every couple of seconds. At the same time, the tall one in the group of ninja pinpointed his chakra. His head turned, and the others looked over.

I promised I wouldn't, so shut up.

Fumiko, Fumiko. That's all you think about. What about your bloodlust, eh? Can you control it, GAARA?

A shiver jerked his body. Kankurou and Temari didn't notice.

Don't you-

"They see us." Gaara said aloud. His tone was carefully disinterested. Inside his own head, though, he was about ready to scream. His headache only seemed to amplify the rough voice in his head to the point where he was starting to almost believe it. Or at least do what it wanted before his head cracked in two. Gaara gritted his teeth.

Back off-

"Ah, you're right." Temari muttered. "Do you think they'll try and challenge us?"

She's not here. Nobody will tell!

Gaara's mouth moved, not of his own accord.

"Let's go," he said shortly. He would fight them, but he wouldn't kill them, just take their scroll. He only wanted their scroll. The Shukaku laughed inside his head, because he knew he had already won.

...

Fumiko was close to the tower. Just another half hour, and she would be there.

She paused for a quick rest on a low hanging branch, and ate some of the fish she'd cooked a few hours before but kept in her satchel. After waking up, she had followed the river for a while, and then around noon had stopped for a drink of water, and while she was there, caught two fish and prepared them. She didn't know how long she would be at the tower and figured that it would be better to stay inside and wait for Gaara than have to keep going outside to fish for food.

Before she could, though, she heard the scream.

Loud, terrified, and agonized, the howl was achingly familiar. After all, she'd heard it several times before: eight where men had tried to murder them, and three times when Gaara had completely lost control.

Sombody had just died.

...

"Let- let me go!" the ninja stuttered.

Wrapped entirely in Gaara's sand and totally helpless. His teammates made no move to intervene, faces frightened and shocked. Gaara struggled with himself, but by now, he knew they would all have to die. But he could do it painlessly.

Gaara stepped forward in trepidation. He raised his arm to crush the boy as painlessly as he could, to cover him completely and let blood seep out from underneath. Painless. Painless. Murder.

"All I have to do is cover your big mouth and you'll be dead."

MORE!

Shukaku took over his body, or at least the sane part of his mind for just a moment. Although Gaara struggled he knew that it would have to be better, bloodier, to satisfy the demon inside of him. To satisfy the deadly hunger it possessed before he hurt somebody he didn't want to.

He pulled the umbrella that had flung the senbon out of the ground and snapped it open, sheltering himself from what he knew would be a bloody rain. Gaara couldn't bring himself to leave any evidence for when he saw Fumiko later- and she would definitely notice if he was covered in blood.

"But that would be too easy and too boring."

Gaara fought it halfheartedly, but reached a trembling hand out despite himself. The coffin of sand raised into the air, sand falling off of the bottom in a stream. The ninja cried out in surprise and what Gaara easily recognized as terror, and as he rose and the sand grew tighter, in pain.

Gaara couldn't look at what he was about to do, so instead he just looked straight forward and rose his hand higher, the sand higher. He closed his eyes briefly, praying for just a second that Fumiko would be able to look him in the face if she ever found out, praying he wouldn't burn in hell after murdering yet another innocent person.

YES.

Gaara's eyes snapped open and his face twisted in a half-snarl, but it was really just a poorly disguised look of determination, he had to do this, he had to, the Shukaku was going to make him kill whether it was these strangers or somebody he actually cared about. He turned his head from where the most blood would fall, he couldn't, he couldn't, he was.

His hand fisted.

That moment of silence before death was always the most peaceful to Gaara.

"Sand Burial!"

...

Fumiko skidded to a stop, almost falling from her branch. Her head whipped around, and sure enough, once she concentrated she could easily sense the familiar, comforting chakra just a few yards from where she stood. "Oh, freaking sugar!"

She jumped hard against the tree trunk to launch herself farther away in the direction she'd heard the scream, a detour that was a hard right from where Fumiko was originally travelling. Screw staying out of fights- Gaara needed her, now.

"Fine," she said. "Fine, I won't follow you. But if something goes wrong, I'll find you or you find me, okay?"

Something was very, very wrong.

She jumped and skittered and leaped from branch to branch as fast as she could, which turned out to be pretty fast. Her prosthetic scraped and slid against the branches and a few times she almost fell, but Fumiko just dug her fingers into wood and flung her way to the next one. Her mind whizzed a mile a minute; she was getting closer, she was almost there-

The air filled with screams again, this time full of anticipation and mind-numbing fear.

She wasn't close enough before he killed more people. Fumiko cried out, hoping that he would maybe hear her, but knew that unless she was close, near him, he wouldn't be able to hear her over Shukaku's roar. Fumiko just hoped Gaara would be able to stop this time.

Her foot tapped lightly onto the branch just outside the clearing. It smelled like blood, and it was splattered on the leaves around her. When she looked directly down, Fumiko gasped- there were already people here, cowering behind a bush. A boy in a fuzzy coat, another boy wearing small, black glasses, and a small girl with blue hair. She couldn't see there faces from here, but from their posture, they were hiding from-

"Look, Gaara." Kankurou's voice said. Fumiko started and peered through the trees.

Then almost threw up.

There was blood everywhere. Like the apocalypse had come early and Fumiko had just missed the blood rain. It was splattered every which way and up the trees and on the dirt, everywhere except for on Gaara. Fumiko realized why the people were cowering- after that, after all that bloodshed, Gaara was holding a hand out in their direction.

"I know this test is no problem for you, but it's dangerous for Temari and me."

He was walking towards Gaara, no, that wasn't good.

"One set of scrolls is good enough. It's all we need to pass!"

Gaara stretched his hand out further, hesitant, Fumiko knew, but unable to control it, wanting to aggravate Kankurou into attacking, wanting to be distracted before he killed anyone else. He knew exactly where the ninja were hiding, and he hated it, hated the Shukaku, hated the control it had over him. "Losers can't tell me what to do."

Kankurou's face twisted. He grabbed Gaara's sash and got into his face. "Alright, that's enough!" he snarled. His face paint warped a little bit. "Sometimes you have to listen to what your big brother says."

No, no, no, not good, don't use that tone with him, not in his state, you'll die. He doesn't mean it, just distract him, Kankurou, but not like that! Not with that, you aren't a brother to him, and Temari isn't... Fumiko's lips pressed thin. If they couldn't convince him or Gaara snapped further, Fumiko would step in. But she wanted to see before she acted, before she revealed that she was there.

Gaara wouldn't have wanted her to see him this way.

"It's too bad I don't think of you as my big brother at all. If you get in my way, I'll kill you."

Gaara smacked Kankurou's hand away and took a half step back, as did Kankurou. Gaara's face was unchanged, eyes narrowed in the way they were whenever Gaara was confused or worried. He was probably both now. The Shukaku would be laughing with glee in his head now. Gaara raised his hand again in the direction of the cowering ninja. All three of them shivered and huddled further away as the sound of sand rushed through their ears.

"Wait!" Temari said placatingly, both hands raised. Her 'disarming' smile was nervous and frightened. "Just hold on, Gaara, You- don't have to treat us like we're the enemy. Look, do it as a favor for your sister. Please?"

Kankurou gasped lightly when Gaara raised his hand to Kankurou's face.

Then, he turned it back toward the terrified Genin below her.

Too late. They couldn't help, they would only make it worse, and Gaara would lose what little control he had left. Fumiko had to do something and do it now, before something else happened and Gaara hated himself forever. Fumiko pushed her way through the few leaves separating her from the clearing.

"Gaara!"

Everybody froze. She sensed the stares from below her, but ignored them. Gaara had stiffened in place like a marble statue, and Kankurou was still locked in place, too scared to move lest he aggravate the boy in front of him.

Fumiko leapt down from her tree and landed in her own customary way, letting her foot touch the ground and then bend so that her knee hit the ground as well. Her prosthetic was slid out to the side to avoid the brunt of impact. Then she scrambled to her feet, standing between Gaara and the Shukaku's prey, directly in the line of fire. But Gaara would never hurt her.

"Gaara," Fumiko said. "Calm down."

Gaara moved his intense gaze from Kankurou's eyes and slid it toward Fumiko. Fumiko winced when she saw his expression- hard, but his eyes were twitchy, and he was trying not to let himself kill her.

"The tower," Fumiko said quickly, almost conversationally, "is right over there." She pointed to her left. "I've got some fish. Did you know you can put Genjutsu on animals? Hey, you've got both the scrolls already!"

As she spoke, Fumiko walked steadily and calmly closer to Gaara and Kankurou, very, very carefully so as not to splash into one of the red puddles dotting the grass. Kankurou was looking at her like she was going to get them all killed, but he didn't know Gaara. He was listening. When she was a just an arms width away from him, she said, "Gaara, I know I said I wouldn't find you, but hey, something went wrong, yeah?"

Then she pulled him forward into a hug. He didn't move, didn't try to return the hug or push her away. Just stood there with his arm out toward the ninja hiding behind the bushes, face stony. She couldn't see Kankurou or Temari, but she could hear the breath they sucked through their teeth. They stood like that for a while, her and Gaara, him fighting, her holding.

...

Kill her.

Go away!

She's in the way! I need more!

Stop it!

I need MO-

NO!

Slowly, growling, the voice faded as Gaara forced it down.

No.

...

Gaara's hand fisted, but there was no scream, there was no sand.

"All right. This time."

Fumiko pulled away. Gaara looked over at his hand almost in confusion, like he couldn't believe he had stopped himself.

His cork had formed in his hand. Gaara had regained control over the tailed beast inside of him. Fumiko smiled and tried not to look as sick as she felt, and very pointedly did not look at the earth around her. Gaara stuck the cork into his gourd and then turned to leave. Trying to get away just in case Shukaku tried again. When he started walking away, Fumiko followed.