Tables Turned Part II: Kankuro
Gaara had every intention of reading the journal he held in his lap straight away, before anyone could wander by and interrupt, however he had no defense against meddlesome demons that just so happened to be sealed within his body, and insisted on making their voices heard at the greatest frequency and volume possible.
Wait. Don't read yet. I'm hungry! Go eat something! Maybe a scrap or two will float by me on the way down…but make sure it's not spicy. That'll give me major gas.
The redhead's mouth twisted in disgust. "Do you have any idea how many levels of raunchy that is? Lord…" His entire face contorted. "I don't want to think of your bodily functions…functioning…in there…" He shuddered, and then his stomach gave a very loud growl.
You're kidding me, right? I can't be hungry at a time like this!
HAH! Shukaku cried in triumph. You're hungry, too!
"No I'm not," Gaara said quickly, focusing on the purple journal. "I'm fi—"
His stomach growled again, much louder this time, as if rebuking him for not giving it what it wanted, and he almost screamed in frustration.
Of course, the tanuki was overjoyed, and he just had to make his jubilation known. What kind of resident nuisance would he be if he failed to uphold his job description now, anyway?
Shukaku was very conscious about these delicate little matters.
AHAHAHAHAHA! OWNED, BIZNATCH! Go. Get. Food. Do it. DOOOOO IIIIIIIIT!
"ALL RIGHT!" Gaara bellowed, well aware that any individuals in the nearby vicinity could hear him. He did not care. They should have taken the hint already that he was off his rocker, and if they hadn't, they were either stupid, unobservant, or both. "I'M GOING!"
And he went, Shukaku's incessant snickers providing background music.
One of these days, I'll discover a way to shut that bastard up for good…he'll wish he never provoked me then…
Since the kitchen was on the bottom level of the compound and his bedroom was on the top, the Kazekage had some time to amuse himself with thoughts of exactly how he would go about silencing Shukaku, quite a few of which included sharp, metal hooks and generous amounts of duct tape. Upon reaching his destination, the Sand-nin's mood had much improved, to say the least. He even whistled as he pulled the door to the large, stainless steel refrigerator open, eyes scanning its contents critically for an item that would suit his fancy—and prevent any questionable flare-ups from the demon's wayward digestive system.
"None of this is any good," Gaara declared once he had rifled through various containers of leftovers—more than half of them smelled like rotten eggs, and the remainder included a variety of rather unwholesome ingredients such as spinach.
Gaara hated spinach with a passion that rivaled his distaste for Shukaku and his malfunctioning sand combined. It had an unpleasant, slimy texture that reminded him of earthworms, and the taste left much to be desired.
Temari was the one who liked the stuff, and she had gotten very creative in sneaking it past him over the years into as many meals as she could, but he knew as soon as he had it in his mouth what it was. In those cases, dinner was always a very memorable event, as liberal amounts of spinach-laced food ended up in places that it should not have been, like walls and innocent dining room furniture, however Temari showed no signs of abandoning her quest to end the somewhat irrational discrimination against her favorite green plant—or whatever it was—and the spinach continued cropping up despite Gaara's vehement protests.
"I think I want something sweet," he decided, absently kicking the door of the fridge closed and going for the freezer. A blast of cold mist chafed his face; waving it away, he rummaged through packages of frozen vegetables and meat, shoving them to the side. "Cripes…there's too much junk in here," he muttered, feeling a trifle surly all of a sudden.
I wanted one of those! Shukaku protested as his reluctant vessel chucked hot dogs wrapped in tin foil over his shoulder. 'The hell you do that for? You'll ruin them!
All he received in response was a terse grunt.
Fine. Be that way, the tanuki sniffed, leaving Gaara with the distinct impression he was sulking.
Serves him right, damn prick…
Quite abruptly, his displeasure evaporated.
"Yes!" he exulted, grabbing the small cardboard container and yanking off the lid. The surface of the substance remained unblemished and smooth, indicating no prior use, which, for some reason, made him feel as giddy as a child let loose in a candy store.
Though he was supposed to be in a huff, Shukaku's interest was piqued, and he figured he could forgo the usual behavior that accompanied tantrums just this once.
What's that?
"Double chocolate marshmallow swirl," the Kazekage said dreamily, shutting the freezer door. His prize in one hand, he groped for a spoon with the other.
But what is it?
"Only the best ice-cream ever made," Gaara replied in a manner that suggested the answer should have been obvious. I better take it upstairs so nobody notices, he told himself, slipping out of the kitchen and making for the stairs.
Unfortunately, his store of luck seemed to have gone by the wayside.
Temari, clad in a pair of silk shorts and a white tank top, her river of blonde hair flowing freely down her back, examined her brother quizzically, one eyebrow cocked. "Since when do you eat midnight snacks?"
Gaara swore under his breath. It was too late to hide the ice cream; Temari had already seen it.
"I'm hungry," he shrugged, voice casual. "There's no law against late-night pilfering," a spoonful of ice cream found its way into his mouth, and he sighed blissfully. "Besides," he added, "you do it all the time."
His sister had nothing of particular import to say to that, so she kept her mouth shout.
The redhead smirked. "I take it you settled your little dispute with Kankuro, then?"
Temari's grin was savage. "You bet your ass I did." She fell into step beside her brother, plucking the spoon out of his hand for her own scoop of double chocolate marshmallow swirl. "He's just lucky I'm merciful and only blacked out his eyes. Lord, this stuff is good," she motioned with the spoon at the container, which Gaara held out of her reach.
"Yeah, I know," he retorted primly, rescuing his captive spoon. "It's mine, so don't get any ideas, woman."
Tough wench, isn't she? Shukaku observed.
Gaara nearly buried his nose in the ice cream to smother laughter.
"What's so funny?"
"Nothing. You wouldn't understand."
"Oh yeah? Try me."
"Why?"
Temari glared daggers at him. "Because!"
They were almost at the top of the stairs. Once they crossed the threshold to the upper floor, Gaara immediately veered left in an attempt to head her off.
She followed.
Damn…I knew I shouldn't have listened to you!
I'm not the one who made your stomach growl, the tanuki blustered in an injured tone.
Tch…
They reached Gaara's bedroom. In a last ditch effort, he raced through the doorway, determined to slam the door in her face before she had the chance to barrel in after him. While he was fast, she proved the faster.
"Gaara! Tell me what was so funny!" For emphasis, the blonde girl stamped her foot—the one not blocking the door, of course.
The situation was threatening to fly out of hand if Gaara did not find a diversion, and quick. Once Temari started stamping her feet, mountains of unpleasantness usually followed, and he was in no mind to deal with hysterics, particularly since his fortuitous discovery of the ice cream had put him in a pleasant humor.
And then he had it.
Taking hold of her arm, he dragged her in the room and locked the door as a precaution—Kankuro had demonstrated a miraculous ability to heal in record time recently, and Gaara did not want to take any unnecessary risks.
Before Temari had the chance to protest at the rough treatment, he went to the bed and lifted the purple journal. "Have a gander at this," he said, unable to keep the smugness from his voice.
It took a moment for things to click.
"Wait…is that…"
Gaara's face took on an impish cast. "The most private and profound musings of our dearest middle sibling," he supplied with a wink.
Temari did not bother to suppress her glee, nor did she ask how the journal came to be in his care. "Excellent!" The reason for her campaign against her youngest brother forgotten, she flung herself on the bed eagerly. "Well come on! I've gotta see this!"
Feeling self-congratulatory, the Kazekage chose to oblige his sister without dispute. "I won't be surprised if we lose some brain cells by the end of this."
Temari snorted. "It's been proven that we don't use all of them, anyway, so it won't matter if we fry a few."
Touché.
—27—
You know, I'm so sick of those two morons calling Karasu a doll, even after I've told them a million times that he's a puppet. They keep saying there's no difference, but there is! There is SO a difference! Dolls can't fight like Karasu! He's hard-core!
I mean, honestly, how many dolls shoot poison darts out of their mouths and look totally badass while doing it?
How about…oh…NONE, MAYBE?
If only you could talk, Karasu, I'm sure you'd be on them like flies on crap. Then they'd be sorry. HUMPH!
They abuse my decorative enhancements, too. Around the clock. It never ends. Seriously. It's not like they have any room to talk. Does Temari honestly believe that those stupid ponytails are appealing? She looks like she stuck her finger in an electrical socket when she was little and her hair just stayed that way.
Not to mention her chest is nonexistent…
And Gaara…lord…I don't even know where to begin…
Here. I'll make it nice and simple.
EYEBROWS.
Enough said.
Well, that and those cheeks, man. He'll look like he's two years old until he dies. They're so…pudgy. Pinchable, you know?
I wonder what would have happened if all the people he's killed actually had a chance to get a close look at him before they kicked it. Think about it. The kid's a shrimp, and he has a baby face. How degrading is it to be snuffed by a guy who could pass as a toddler?
Although, I will admit, when he goes into crazy possessed mode, he is pretty damn scary. Scarier than Temari after she's just rolled out of bed, even, and that's saying something.
Whatever. One day they'll appreciate the awesomeness of my ensemble, and they'll beg my forgiveness for not understanding how stylish I really am. Compared to the two of them, I'm the sheik, man. No one else wears a cat-eared hood and gets away with it.
There was a moment of silence.
"WHAT THE HELL IS HIS DEAL?" Temari finally shouted, seething. "WHY DOES HE ALWAYS FOCUS ON MY CHEST? WHERE DID—"
She was forced to stop, as a hand clapped over her mouth.
"Do you want him to wake up and come over here before we get the chance to finish this?"
"…"
"I'll take that as a no." The hand was removed.
"You saw that though, didn't you?" the elder of the two pressed. "He mentioned my chest! He did it when we were reading your stuff, too!"
Shukaku guffawed loudly.
It's not like he was wrong. She's as flat as a washboard…Gaara was thankful that his sister could not hear inside his head.
"Maybe he's got some sort of misdirected Oedipus complex."
A long pause.
"Don't ever say that again. Lord…the thought of my brother lusting over me makes me wanna puke."
While Gaara could have mentioned the streak of jealousy Kankuro experienced when they had been conducting a scholarly assessment of their sister's documentations, he held his tongue. Saying anything would alert her to the fact that her journal was no longer hidden under her mattress, which would cause all sorts of problems.
He took a different route instead.
"I had no idea my cheeks were the subject of so much discussion." He frowned, then stood, and went to the mirror perched on the wall. The reflection of a young man with dark red hair and black-rimmed, sea green eyes stared back at him. Almost as a reflex action, his hands went to his cheeks.
There was no doubt about it. They were definitely pudgy.
"You don't think I look like a toddler, do you?" He demanded of Temari, a small crease forming in the middle of his brow.
His sister appeared as if she were trying to swallow an egg whole, shell and all.
"Well…I mean…er…"
His eyes narrowed. "I shouldn't have bothered asking. You're the one who started this whole chipmunk bullshit to begin with."
Shukaku let out a bark of laughter, which Gaara ignored.
"I meant it to be affectionate, though," Temari defended herself. "Kankuro's the one who makes fun."
She received a lengthy stare.
"So chipmunk is a term of endearment, now, is it?"
"Yes!"
He held his chin, a wicked twinkle in his eye. "All right. I get to call you porcupine then."
"What?"
"It's only fair."
"No it is not!"
"I'm merely showing you my undying affection," he explained innocently.
She glared at him. "Don't you throw my words back at me, you smartass!"
"You wound me so. Pardon me while I try to find a way to kill myself."
"……"
"Yes?"
"I hate you."
—27-later—
I made a huge mistake. Like…colossal. I don't think I can fix it, either.
Karasu was looking a tad seedy. His hair was all matted and frizzy and…just nasty, so I decided to give it a little trim with one of my kunai.
I don't know how to cut hair. I should have listened to my instincts and gave up after the first swipe.
I can't help that I have a contrary nature…
Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn it!
KARASU IS BALD. HE'S BALD!
This is a catastrophe. He's not badass without his hair! He's…I can't even look at him!
I have no idea what I was thinking. It's not like his hair can grow back after it's been cut, because…yeah.
I'M SUCH AN IDIOT!
I'll have to get him a wig or something so nobody notices the damage. I'd be the laughingstock of the whole village. I can just hear it…
Kankuro tried giving his PUPPET a haircut! HA, HA! WHAT AN EFFING DOUCHE!
Where the hell am I going to find a wig, though? I might have to improvise…
This sucks.
"I thought there was something wrong with Karasu!" Temari exclaimed. "His hair's all…straw-like."
"Damn, do we have an intelligent family," the Kazkage said dryly. "I'm astonished."
A snort. "The sad thing is, I can see him doing it, too. Sitting down with a kunai and trying to cut that doll's hair." She erupted into giggles. "If it was so important, he should've had me do it. I wouldn't have botched the job."
"You think so, eh?"
"I've cut your hair before, don't you remember?"
"I have a selective memory. That must be one of the ones I chose to suppress."
She glared at him again. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You're a smart girl. I'm sure you can figure it out."
"Gaara," she began dangerously.
"I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt, here, Temari. Take advantage of it."
She let out an exasperated sigh. "You know, sometimes you can be so infuriating, I want to break your jaw."
"My, what a thing to say."
Her ears went pink.
"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" She accused. "You haven't changed at all!"
"One does have a reputation to maintain," he said around a mouthful of ice cream. "If I don't keep up appearances even in my private life, I really will go soft."
She gawped, and, not knowing what else to do, buried her face in her hands.
"I can't handle this…"
He grinned. "I could revert back to my old self, if it would make you feel better—"
"NO," she replied quickly.
And that was that.
—32—
Somebody stole my purple paint.
I repeat.
SOMEBODY STOLE MY PURPLE PAINT.
I know I didn't lose it. I always put it back in the same place every time I use it (the second drawer on the left of my dresser) and I know that it was there yesterday, which means somebody must've rifled through my room while I was out and took it.
Gotta be either my brother or my sister playing a joke. Gotta be. They're devious enough to pull crap like this.
But that's not the worst part.
When I went to the store to buy more, all they had in stock was pink.
I'm not even joking.
Out of all the colors in the world, they only had PINK.
I refuse to wear pink paint. I'd sooner wear Karasu's wig before I wear pink paint.
Unbelievable.
Pink paint.
And that's still not the worst part.
I bought it.
I bought the pink paint. Then when I was at home…I put it on. Just to see. Of course, Temari walked in on me. She witnessed the horror of the pink paint. I don't think I've ever wanted to die as much as I did then.
All I have to say is, good thing Gaara wasn't there, or he would've lashed into me like a whip. The kid's got a mouth on him.
I still don't know where my paint is. When I find out who did take it, I'll gut the bastard, make no mistake.
And I will find you, so help me. You've ruined my carefully selected ensemble, and that is unacceptable. I need the purple paint, man. It's bad enough that I had to make Karasu's hair out of straw. He's only partially badass now. People have been commenting on it.
What happened to his hair? Did it always look like that?
SHUT UP ALREADY! ARGH!
The strange thing is…they've been commenting on me, too. Say it's 'refreshing' to see my 'real' face, or whatever, and that I should ditch the makeup more often.
………
Nobody gets it. Nobody.
You're all blind idiots.
Temari rolled around on the bed, clutching her aching sides, tears streaming from her eyes. "Oh…my…lord…he's…mental…"
Gaara shook his head. "What did I tell you? I can feel the brain cells leaking out my ear."
That only made her laugh harder.
"I'm…the one…who…took it," she wheezed. "I wanted to see what he'd do—" She doubled over again.
Gaara could no longer help himself; he laughed along with her. "So that's why he's gone cold turkey the past few weeks, you sly devil."
"I did him a service," she said loftily once she got her amusement under control, "he resembles a human being now."
I suppose I should revise my opinion of this one, Shukaku admitted. She's not so bad after all.
I'm sure she'd be overjoyed to know she's procured your approval.
Are you making fun of me?
Would I do that?
—39—
Till the end of my days, I'll curse Aburame Shino. This is all his fault, the freak. If he had just minded his own damn business and stayed put, I wouldn't have this problem. Yeah, I guess it is my fault he had a grudge against me, I'll admit that, but honestly!
This is what happened.
I was sound asleep, not a care in the world, when I felt something brush against my face. Something tiny. At first, I ignored it, but I had a hard time keeping that up when the feeling didn't stop.
Whatever it was had lots of legs.
They tickled.
I woke up.
And saw a spider on my face.
Not good. Not good at all.
I loathe spiders. Come to mention it, I loathe bugs in general, AND IT'S ALL BECAUSE OF SHINO! HE CORRUPTED ME!
The guy has bugs crawling around under his skin, and he used them on me when we fought. They were everywhere. I've never been the same since. The smallest little tick gives me sweats. It's ridiculous.
So when I woke up with a spider on my face, I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
I flew out of my bed as if I had the Grim Reaper on my tail, and, since it was dark, I smacked into my nightstand. The spider went flying, and it landed in my bed.
In. My. Bed.
Scurrying around under my sheets. Contaminating my pillows.
DAMN YOU, SHINO!
I couldn't sleep in my bed anymore, obviously, so I went downstairs and slept on the couch, though the rest of the night, I swore I felt legs scrabbling all over me.
I never used to be afraid of bugs. I used to squash 'em between my bare fingers.
Heh. So much for THAT.
It is now my mission in life to repay the favor and give Shino a phobia. Preferably of something stupid. Like gravity.
I'll drop kick him off a waterfall.
That'll work.
"Does fear of gravity have a technical name?"
"Yes."
"What is it?"
"No idea. You can look it up, if you're curious."
"Well then how do you know if it has one?"
"All those phobias do. I'm sure there's even a name for the fear of peanut butter."
"How can someone be afraid of peanut butter?"
"Good question."
Temari yawned. "It's gotta be late, isn't it? I think I'm gonna hit the sack." She smiled, and kissed her brother on the forehead. "We should do this again sometime."
"If I can salvage enough of my brain matter, sure."
She chuckled, and then took her leave, completely unaware that her own journal had been subject to scrutiny. Gaara was unconcerned about that, however. He'd had his fun, and it was no longer relevant if his siblings discovered his scheme after the fact.
Shukaku chose to make one final comment.
Your family's cracked out. I always thought you were an oddball, but the rest of them are just as off-kilter.
"You're not much of a picnic yourself," the Kazekage retorted.
Hey, I've got my own reputation to take care of.
The redhead grinned.
"GAARA! YOU'RE DEAD!"
The sound of two voices raised in unison traveled down the hallway, followed by the stampede of heavy footsteps.
It appeared as though no one would be sleeping much tonight.
PHEW! Well, guys and dolls, I believe this little story is finished. I may go back and do one more chapter for Gaara if inspiration strikes, but don't hold me to that. As of now, consider this the end.
Thank you all so much for the reviews! They've been great, and I'm glad you all enjoyed this! I was amazed at the reactions, honestly, because I figured people would find my sense of humor a bit too…off the wall. XD Again, my thanks. Confessions of an Avenger is in the works, so look out for it!