"Gaaraaaa," Uzumaki whined. "Let me copy your homework. Please."
Gaara looked up from his book to stare at Uzumaki who had draped himself over his bed, still in the shorts and t-shirt he had slept in. It was the same, every Sunday. Uzumaki would wait all week to do his homework, try it on his own for about half an hour, then give up and ask Gaara for it. Today was slightly different. Uzumaki waited 45 minutes before giving up.
Gaara, predicting his behavior, handed over his notebook that had been kept on his lap. Encouraging Uzumaki's bad studying behavior was a weakness of his Gaara could not kick. Tsunade had even scolded him for doing it, yet Gaara had no intention of fixing that habit as long as Uzumaki asked for it.
"Thanks. You're the best." Uzumaki took the notebook, opening it to the appropriate page.
Gaara had arrived around noon. He was still in his uniform the day before, and he hadn't been home. Uzumaki let him in, not asking any questions. At times, Gaara's eyes would drift closed only to startled awake seconds later.
"Couldn't sleep again?"
Uzumaki asked softly. He didn't look up from the homework he was copying. "I could ask Tsunade to prescribe you something. It would help."
"Are you done yet," he responded impatiently, seizing the line of questioning.
Uzumaki's eyes glanced over. There was a hint of anger in those eyes. It was rare for Uzumaki to get mad at him. Annoyed or sad maybe, but Gaara could get away with much more than the average person, partly due to Uzumaki's ability to understand him. Today, Gaara must have finally hit his tolerance level, but as vocal as Uzumaki was, he didn't bring it up, didn't say anything, just went back to his homework, copying it silently.
"I should go," Gaara shouldered his bag.
"Stop right there, bastard. You think I'm letting you off so easily?" Uzumaki rolled off the bed, stripping out of his clothes.
"You are supposed to be doing homework," Gaara commented.
Uzumaki waved him off, pulling on a sweatshirt and jeans. "You're coming with me to buy some snacks. No objections."
Uzumaki grabbed his wrist, dragging him out the house and into town. Uzumaki was still angry. He was just excellent at hiding it when he wanted to.
They entered a local convenience store, browsing the selection of puddings and ice cream available. Gaara had already picked the ones he wanted, which was one of every flavor. Uzumaki, however, was much slower at choosing, considering each seriously. Not wanting to wait and have his deserts go gold, Gaara went to pay, noticing two other people in the store in the back. He went to wait outside so he could start eating when he heard a crash. Cursing lightly under his breath, Gaara put his bag down and went back inside.
One of the strangers who had been in the back of the store when he left was knocked out on the floor. Several shelves had been knocked over too, presumably when he was knocked out. The second stranger was on the floor too, though conscious, pointing a finger at Uzumaki accusingly. "All we did was point out that he shouldn't be stealing, Kazetani-san." The two strangers were older than them, presumably college age. They weren't anyone Gaara recognized, but he hardly interacted with anyone who was considered normal.
Uzumaki, on the other hand, was furious, their blood on his knuckles. "Don't lie, you thieving bastard. You're the one who was trying to steal."
The owner of the store, Kazetani, grabbed Uzumaki's shirt roughly. "Uzumaki, I should have known you'd be causing trouble in my store," the beefy man growled. "I thought I told you I didn't want you in here again."
"Do you have wax in those ears, old man, they were the ones stealing."
"You boys get home. This time, I'll make sure this piece of trash gets taken off the streets."
The boy who was capable of moving managed to wake his friend and help him out of the store while Uzumaki spat curses at the shopkeeper. Gaara watched the two leave, memorizing their faces.
Uzumaki was held until the police arrived. Kazutani wouldn't let Gaara go to him, forcing him to wait outside. The police arrived in ten minutes, and thankfully, Gaara recognized the cop who stepped out of the cruiser.
The cop spotted Gaara, and he sighed heavily, already knowing who was inside. "Let me guess," he said. "It's Naruto-kun again."
"Asuma-san," Gaara greeted.
"Care to explain what happened before I question them?"
Sarutobi, Asuma was a middle-aged chief of police of the island. Despite his position, he was ignorant of the goings-on of the island. In the long run, his ignorance made him likable. He was one of the few who did not hate Uzumaki.
"Uzumaki was accused of stealing; however, Uzumaki claims that it was two other boys instead, and he was trying to stop them."
"Again?" He muttered under his breath, not intending to be heard. "Alright then. Let's get this over with."
He motioned for Gaara to follow behind him, taking the lead. The moment Asuma entered, he was assaulted by the red-faced shopkeeper yelling accusations in the officer's face before he could even say a word.
Uzumaki was sitting in a chair in the back office, angry, frustrated, and staying silent, his leg bouncing erratically, waiting to be taken in. No matter what he said or did, the situation would always be made worse. Uzumaki had learned that the hard way. He no longer fought against the adults trying to hold him down, only lashed out at those who had limited power over him.
"I understand your frustration, Kazutani-san, but do you mind if I took a look at your tapes," Kashima asked professionally with infinite patience. It had taken him multiple tries to get out that one sentence without speaking rudely over the shopkeeper.
"What do you need to see the tapes for?! He assaulted my customers. This isn't the first time either."
"I understand, Kazutani-san. It's just for the record." Kashima went to the back office to have a look at the video feed. Gaara waited. He heard a bit more yelling from the shop keeper and Asma's calm voice after ten minutes or so.
After twenty minutes of waiting, Kashima came out with a hand on Uzumaki's shoulder, guiding him out of the store. Gaara didn't wait for the shopkeeper to come out and followed them out.
Uzumaki and Gaara slid into the backseat, and Asuma drove a ways down the road back to Uzumaki's house rather than to the police station. Uzumaki didn't speak. His arms were crossed, and his lips were clamped shut. Any good mood that may have been left after Gaara angered him earlier was long gone.
"I won't write a report," Asuma said, stopping in front of Uzumaki's home. "The video footage backs your story." He put the car in park and turned back to Uzumaki. "You may not have stolen anything, but you can't go assaulting people either. I should be taking you in."
"Then do it," Uzumaki snapped. "Everyone else seems to want to."
A look of sympathy crossed Asuma's face. "I can't say life is fair, but you could try to fit in more," he offered.
"Fuck you."
Asuma's lips thinned, biting back a remark. He got out of the cruiser to open the door for them. Uzumaki was out of the car the moment the door opened, marching right back into the house without saying another word, leaving everyone behind.
Gaara stepped out at a slower pace, bowing to Asuma. "Thank you for your help."
"Yeah, yeah. I didn't do much. Naruto-kun was innocent. That's all there was to it." Asuma lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply. "I would tell you to avoid going back there, but it's the only convenience store close by. Downside to living on a small island I suppose. Try to stay out of trouble for a few days. I'm overworked as it is." He took another drag from his cigarette.
"I can't guarantee anything."
Sighing heavily, Asuma muttered, "Of course not," under his breath. Gaara was beginning to think Asuma should work on quieting his muttered speech.
With a half-wave, Asuma got back into his car and drove off.
Gaara couldn't go back inside. With Uzumaki's foul mood, he would want to be alone. Gaara couldn't offer comfort or change the subject to lighten the mood. Inuzuka was much better at that than him.
Sending a quick message to Inuzuka, he left as well. The images of the two young men were still freshly ingrained into his mind. He wouldn't get them now, but he would make them pay for what they did to Naruto. He was going to bide his time as to not draw attention to himself and especially Naruto, and he had an idea of how to do it.
Satisfied with how he was going to deal with the situation, he wandered further into town contemplating whether he should go back home or not to try to sleep. As tired as he was, the thought didn't appeal to him. He considered going back to the café near his home before he could no longer delay the inevitable.
Apparently, he wasn't the only one trying not to go home. As he passed the playground near the elementary school, he saw Hyuuga once again. He knew it was a small town, but the frequency of how often he was running into him was too much of a coincidence. It was the third time in two days. Sure, he had seen Hyuuga outside of school countless time, but Uzumaki was usually with them which resulted in a spat and the occasional fistfight.
Maybe the problem was he was beginning to take notice where before he would have just kept walking. This opportunity to stop and watch was just too amusing to pass up. Hyuuga was sitting in a sandbox, building a mound of sand with a boy as the young child chattered away about a new ranger show that was airing on TV while two young girls played with his hair, putting flowers, bows, and the like in it. With Hyuuga's long straight hair, it was the ideal plaything for children. Hyuuga didn't even wince when they accidentally pulled too hard or made small knots. His face was relaxed, commenting here and there about the ranger show as if he watched it too.
Gaara couldn't stop the smile if he tried. The great Hyuuga, Neji, nephew of the second largest and powerful clan on the island, known school heartthrob, and wannabe tough guy, was a huge softie when it came to children. Taking out his phone, Gaara took a picture of it. You never know when blackmail could come in handy.
The motion caught Hyuuga's attention. Seeing Gaara, his face turned red in embarrassment, an interesting reaction. It was one Gaara had never seen from him. Hyuuga had always acted as if he was infallible.
Hyuuga mumbled something to the kids, standing up and brushing off his school uniform of sand, and hurriedly trying to fix his hair back to normal, a futile cause without a comb or brush to get the knots out, marching straight to Gaara.
Gaara kept a straight face, watching him approached, but found it surprisingly difficult to do so. Hyuuga looked disheveled, and his clothes were obviously from yesterday, wrinkled and slightly dirty from the sand. Gaara couldn't talk, having been away from his own home for about the same amount of time, and he was probably smelling a bit himself.
"Delete it," Hyuuga demanded once he was out of earshot from the children. "Now."
"Why would I do that?" Gaara asked indifferently, pocketing his phone.
Hyuuga glared. "Do you have a death wish, Gaara?"
"More often than you think," Gaara replied, shocking Hyuuga silent at the casual reply, unsure if he should take the response seriously or not. "You smell."
"You're one to ta-"
"Follow me," Gaara cut him off, walking away.
Whether Hyuuga followed him or not, Gaara didn't really care. What he was about to do was out of charity. A part of him hoped Hyuuga wouldn't follow, but the teen did, clearly annoyed. "What do you want from me?" he demanded
"Do you want to keep sleeping on the streets?" Gaara asked.
Hyuuga immediately became defensive. "I don't need charity from someone like you."
"I don't give charity. I just hate looking at my reflection."
Gaara kept walking while Hyuuga made up his mind. Eventually, he heard Hyuuga running to get his bag and sprint to catch up to him. He was light on his feet, a trait Hyuuga had picked up from learning martial arts no doubt. Soon enough, they were walking side by side as Gaara lead him to his town car.
His driver caught sight of him, panicking. Whoever he was talking to on his cellphone was cut off as he put his phone away. It would probably be an accurate guess that his drive was talking poorly about him. Most of his drivers did at some point or another before being reassigned or fired. Spreading rumors, gossip, or information about him was not tolerated.
"Sir," the driver greeted, opening the door, eyeing Hyuuga as Gaara got into the back seat. There was one more moment of hesitation on Hyuuga's part until he finally got in the car.
The ride to downtown was long and silent. Both Hyuuga and Gaara looked out their respective windows, not saying a single word or sharing a glance at each other.
Was inviting Hyuuga to his place a good idea? Gaara contemplated the entire ride. In the end, he thought it was a horrible idea, but as he had already extended his welcome, he wouldn't take it back. They pulled up to the embassy and Gaara lead him inside.
Hyuuga was going to go through security, taking off his bag to put on the conveyor belt. "This way," Gaara said, bypassing security all together as usual. A step behind, Hyuuga followed, looking around unable to stop his curiosity.
Gaara got into the elevator and instead of pressing the button to his room in the basement, pressed the button for the fifth floor. Gaara had a room prepared for when he had guests over. He never took them down to the sub-basements where he trained and slept. Uzumaki had never seen it either. On the fifth floor, there was a similar apartment to his. It was a little smaller. The finishes weren't as extravagant, but it wasn't the basic models either. The furniture was nice but generic. It even had a nice view of downtown. The cupboards were stocked with food and the drawers in the bedroom had some of his clothes as well.
Hyuuga moved to take his shoes off at the entrance, but as it was more of a western-style house and not his main sleeping quarters, Gaara didn't bother with the custom, walking in with his shoes on. The action made Hyuuga very uncomfortable, unsure if he should follow suit or continue taking off his shoes. In the end, he was unable to break custom, neatly taking off his shoes and placing them by the door.
"There's food in the pantry, and the bedroom is the first door on the left." Gaara went into the kitchen, putting on water for tea. He searched through three cabinets before finding the box of tea and two more for the teapot, listening to Hyuuga moved around the apartment, observing.
As Gaara prepared snacks for his guest, Hyuuga sat at the counter on a barstool. "So where do you really live?"
The knife in Gaara's hand slammed down harder than he intended. "I live here," he replied.
"No, you don't. There's no wear on the furniture, you don't know where anything is in your kitchen, and none of your real belongings are here. It's staged." Hyuuga didn't sound accusing as he made his observations. They were remarkably casual.
"I suppose there's a reason why your number 2 in the school." Gaara placed a cut apple in front of him. "It is mine, but I'm at Uzumaki's most nights." It was not completely a lie, but it was impressive that Hyuuga had deducted that this wasn't his real home within seconds while Uzumaki had never noticed the handful of times he had come over.
Hyuuga took the plate, eating a slice. A bite later and his stomach growled loudly. Hyuuga continued eating as if nothing happened. If he was hungry, he should have said so. Opening the fridge, he pulled out ingredients for fried rice. He wasn't a great cook, but even he could make something that simple.
"Go take a shower," Gaara grunted, having just finished preparing the tea. "Lunch will be done by the time you finish."
Hyuuga lingered for a few moments. He didn't fidget or shift his feet. Despite his predicament, accepting charity from someone he didn't even like, he still held himself with a certain dignity, holding onto his pride.
Eventually, he did leave, and Gaara could hear his footsteps head to the bathroom. Gaara focused on the rice, clearing his mind as he cooked. His eyes wanted to drift closed, but he forced himself to keep going. He didn't want to sleep. He couldn't sleep. Not here. He finished the rice and heated up some leftover gyoza to go with it, placing it at the dining room table. The water was still running in the shower so he pulled out clean clothes and placed them on the bed for Hyuuga to change in. It was thinking of the lone human on the other side of the door that triggered it. A wave of hunger and aggression that surged through his being knocked him off his feet. Gaara grasped the wall for support, almost missing and stumbling forward. This should not be happening. Not now.
The water in the bathroom stopped. Hyuuga's timing couldn't be worse. "Feel free to crash on the bed. I'm heading out." Gaara delivered the invitation with his usual cold voice, but he was pulling himself up and hurrying to the door. Hyuuga said something, but Gaara didn't hear, already at the front door. He nearly ripped open the door denting the handle in his grip in the process. Sleep. He just needed sleep.
He jabbed the elevator button. When it didn't open immediately, he jabbed it again and again, pushing it faster and faster when it didn't open immediately. He needed the basement. He entered the elevator and pushed the button for his private room. The elevator jerked to life. He held his sides as he waited. It felt like it was taking an eternity. His eyes were focusing on each number as it descended.
The doors opened, and he charged out, not bothering to turn on the lights. He went straight to the back of his apartment to his bedroom. He didn't go to the bed. He closed the door then settled in a corner, placing his forehead on his knees. His nails ripped into his uniform pants, digging at the skin underneath. "You will not control me," Gaara whispered. "You will not control me."
The aggression flared up again in response. He wanted to tear into something. Something soft and fleshy. He clenched his jaw tightly, closing the eyes. "Sleep," he whispered. "Just sleep." His stomach flipped and twisted in hunger. As he struggled, but succeeded, in reigning in his emotions, sleep started to come back to him. The coldness of the floor, the darkness that surrounded him, the silence that permeated the room, this is what he needed. What he deserved. He didn't know when he finally gave in to sleep. It felt like an eternity, yet only moments. Sleep finally taking over was both a relief and a curse. At least if he didn't wake, it would be a blessing.
Neji woke up when the sun was still behind the mountains. He had slept for far longer than he had intended. Pulling back the blankets, he swung his legs out of bed. When he had exited the shower the day before, he was surprised to see the clothes laid out for him. At first, he wasn't going to use them but realized the clothes he had on were indeed quite smelly and dirty after wearing them for days. Swallowing his pride temporarily, he put them on, noticing that they not only fit him perfectly, but it was also very comfortable.
He ate alone after waiting a few minutes to see if Gaara would return. He didn't. He ate the food anyway when his stomach made loud and clear that the food shouldn't be wasted. After that, he laid down, planning to sleep for only a few minutes, not intending to take advantage of the hospitality extended to him.
Neji stepped out of the room, seeing that Gaara had yet to return. For the best, he decided, quickly gathering his things. For Gaara to see him like this, to begin with, was humiliating. He had accepted the help out of weakness, that was all. Even thinking that, he still took the time to make the bed and wash the dishes. As he pulled out his uniform for the day, he noticed he was missing a homework assignment.
Inhaling sharply, he pulled out everything from his duffle to make sure. It wasn't there. "Dammit," he cursed under his breath. He would have to go back to pick it up. Throwing the bag over his shoulder, he left the apartment, pausing only to wonder what to do with the key. Deciding he couldn't leave it in the apartment, he pocketed it and attempted to find a taxi. The front desk was willing to call one for him, having him wait in the lobby. Now that he wasn't being hurried along, he could observe the area.
There was something odd about it all. The security was lacking. There were security guards, but they weren't keeping an eye on the people coming in. Maybe a glance or two, a few words exchanged in what he believed to be Arabic perhaps, then they let guests pass.
For a diplomatic embassy, it didn't make sense. In fact, there was no country flag flying or lettering indicating what country the embassy was for. The only reason he knew it was an embassy was because that was what everyone called it whenever he asked. Since it was still early morning, there were very few visitors to observe, yet still busier than it should have been for that time of day. His taxi arrived, and he walked to the vehicle with reluctance. It was early, but his family would be up. There was no way he was going to be able to avoid them. He spent the ride dreading it. Why wasn't he more careful in packing his bag? If he had been more diligent, he could have avoided it. If he wasn't so prideful, he could just ignore the assignment and take the failed grade, but if he let it go, his uncle would win.
The gate to the Hyuuga Clan complex came into view. Its giant wooden doors were already open as if it was expecting him. Paying the driver, he got out, seeing a servant already at the gate to greet him. Any hope of getting in and out without being noticed was out the window. His uncle would be informed of his arrival very shortly. Thinning is lips, he passed through the gates, bypassing the bowing servant.
His home was a large Japanese style compound. The main house was in the center with the branch families was stationed around it. A visitor might even call the amount of people living in the compound a small village. The main attraction of the compound was the training grounds. Behind the main house stood a large dojo. Next to the dojo was an outdoor space also used for training, blending into the mountain forest that the more advanced members of the dojo trained.
Living here all his life, Neji had never seen the forest training grounds. Despite being the best amongst his peers for years, he had watched them all advance while he was kept back and told he was lacking. Any attempts to go further on his own was met with discipline, leaving his training to stagnate without a proper teacher. Any attempt to speak to his uncle was futile. While he was a part of the head family, he wasn't directly in line, and he was reminded of that every moment.
As expected, he was unable to get by without running into his uncle. His uncle exited from a side room, closing the sliding door behind him. He was already dressed for the day, in traditional Japanese clothing as usual. His face was always stern. He never raised his voice, but his presence was intimidating with a look of constant disapproval. "You have quite the nerve to drag yourself back in the wee hours of the morning unabashed dressed like that," he said.
Neji kept his eyes down, staring just over the shoulder, not daring to look him in the eye. He held his tongue waiting for what he had been avoiding since Friday.
"I suppose that isn't the issue I should be addressing. Is there a reason why you scored higher than Hinata in the mock exams again?"
"She was fourth in the class," Neji answered quietly.
"And you were third. I will not stand for your showing off. Your role is to support her, not out stage her. Must I remind you again?"
"No, Oji-sama," Neji replied, subdued.
"Try not to disappoint." Hyuuga, Hiashi walked passed him, not sparing him another glance.
His uncle didn't yell, hit him or anything else. He didn't have to. As badly as he was treated, there was a part of Neji that wanted to please him, knowing it was impossible.
Now that the worst was over, there was no reason to hurry, yet he found himself keeping the quick pace to his room, throwing his dirty clothes from his bag to his hamper and looking for that homework assignment. The sooner he was out of here the better. Not seeing it on his desk, he frowned. He prided himself in his organizational skills. If it wasn't in his bag or on his desk, then where was it?
A soft knock drew his attention to the door. Hinata, his cousin and the heir to the Hyuuga clan, stood at the door, still wearing her gi from her morning training. Sweat clung to her skin and her face was flushed. They could easily be mistaken for siblings. Their fathers had been identical twins, so it was common for Neji to be mistaken as the first son instead of the nephew. Seeing her there, he scowled. "Where did you put it, Hinata?"
Unlike her father, she was very expressive, and her guilt could be seen immediately. "Well, you wouldn't come home if I hadn't," she said in that irritatingly soft voice of hers.
"Where is it?" Neji asked again, his words cold and sharp.
"Under your futon." Neji knelt down to pull up the edges of the futon and sure enough, it was there. He snatched it up and shoved it into his bag. "Um, Neji-nii," she said, like a small child afraid to speak up. "I made you a bento for today." Neji had been too agitated to notice she had had her hands behind her back until then, revealing the boxed lunch.
"If you have time to make lunches, then you should spend it studying." While he was home, he may as well grab new clothes to avoid coming home as long as possible again. Opening the drawers to his dresser, he pulled out a few days worth of clothes and uniforms and packed them in his bag.
"I just wanted to do something for you."
Losing his temper, he swatted the lunch out of her hands sending it crashing to the floor, spilling its contents. "If you want to do something for me, get higher grades already and stop holding me back." He turned to pick up his bag and side stepped her as she knelt down to clean up the mess. Feeling some guilt, he stopped, looking over his shoulder as she quietly cleaned up the mess he made. Biting the inside of his cheek, he forced himself to keep walking. He meant what he had said. Instead of spending her time cooking, she should be studying. If she would just pass him already in grades, both of their lives would be easier. She shouldn't jeopardize it by being nice to him.
He went to his awaiting taxi and got in, leaning back in the seat and cursing under his breath when the vehicle moved. He rested his head against the headrest, crossed his arms, and attempted to get comfortable for the ride. In doing so, his fingers brushed the soft fabric of the sweatshirt he was wearing. It was very soft and extremely comfortable. Maybe he should wear sweatshirts more often, he thought, watching the scenery go by. He chuckled to himself. Maybe after he left this house, he'd indulge. Until then, he was stuck with uniforms and formal clothing as his daily wear. Well, he thought closing his eyes, it was something to look forward to.
