konpeitou: Yeah, so this chapter took me exceptionally long and I'm really sorry for that. First the last chapter didn't end how I intended, so it took some reworking... but then when I got the chapter finished, finally, my beta kinda vetoed it and chopped it up. But her points were valid and she was right about all the things that were wrong, so I yet again had to do a massive overhaul on this chapter. Between all the rewrites, dealing with school, and working (with way too much overtime for 3 months straight) it took me a long time to finish. At least this version has passed inspection and I can honestly say I'm more happy with it than the original. I'm sorry for the wait and hope you enjoy.

No matter what, there were always simple pearls of wisdom that, if followed, would help in continued survival. Little things like always carry water, take shelter from sandstorms, always assume the other person lies… and is armed, never drink cactus juice; little things like that. Another such pearl would be to stay out of Sabaku no Gaara's way when he's in a bad mood – bad moods generally lead to pain and/or death for whatever hapless victim crossed his path. Adults of Sunagakure weren't overly fond of their Kazekage anyway, the teenagers of his own age range still had vivid memories of his bloody childhood and were careful to watch their words and steps, and both groups warned the younger children to run along the other way.

No one knew exactly why the Kazekage was angry, nor how it could keep him angry for the span of nearly a week and counting. Only that he was and it was best to wait until the storm blew over, as it were. The Council conceded to having shorter meetings, Baki took to divvying out a hefty share of the missions, Matsuri tried to stay out of the way and refrained from prying or even joining him to chat over tea. They were subtle aversions and each person's way of trying to help Gaara while at the same time protecting their own skins. The conspicuous absence of the Kazekage's foreign bodyguard left many Suna natives wondering just what the anbu's tactic was for dealing with an angry Gaara.

Unfortunately, no one seemed to think it prudent to impart such warnings to the rest of the foreigners currently residing in the village. It was taken for granted that Naruto was well aware of the rules, and it wasn't much of an issue for the old man Raiun who, when faced with the irate Kazekage, had brushed the encounter off as happenstance and offered up some of his Lemon Sour Patch Nin to lift his spirits. Happy yellow candies were not what Gaara needed at the moment and it was truly a wonder that the elder man seemed so completely unawares to the extreme desire the redhead had to hurt him in some way. Mizore was perfectly content to ignore the Kazekage as much as possible and so was unaffected by the mood swing, but the remaining four shinobi weren't quite so fortunate. Well, three actually, since Seiki from Kirigakure hadn't yet returned from the mission he had been assigned three weeks prior.

The jounin from Kusagakure hadn't fared too badly, fortunate enough to have a simple mission report to turn in and an equally simple one to pick up, but the Iwagakure hunter-nin had been precisely the opposite. His report was long and filled with excessive details and multiple complications leading up to the capture of his target. The mission had taken him a month, even in joint with several other Sunagakure hunters, all of which had stood fidgeting throughout the debriefing and the unlucky foreigner was made de facto leader. Better to let the fresh meat step into the tanuki's den first, they figured, maybe the Kazekage would think twice before taking out any frustration on them. It was a wise choice on their part, though not one the Iwa-nin was particularly pleased with them for.

At the moment, though, it was the jounin from Takigakure that was currently taking up space in the Kazekage's office. The man wasn't very old, only about twenty-six or so, and looked more like he should be leading a genin team of his own instead of running solitary. Gaara glared over the tops of his clasped hands at the jounin currently seated across from him in the only other chair in the office, sipping at the tea he had blithely helped himself to.

"Have you ever considered redecorating, Kazekage-sama?" Nishin asked, brown eyes scanning over the office with a curious and slightly critical note. Gaara twitched but the jounin kept going. "The harmony of this office is just dreadful. It'd do you wonders to liven it up a bit; open up a window, maybe get a bit of water in here…"

"I'll take that into consideration," Gaara replied, his flat and even tone belying the irritation he felt. Nishin nodded, making the light green wisps of hair that were free below the black hitai-ate bandanna that covered the top half of his head bounce cheerfully, and took another long sip of tea. He wanted to ask why the man was sitting around in his office chatting about nonsense but the Kazekage knew it would do him no good. Foreigners did things different ways and it wouldn't do to be undiplomatic. Shukaku scoffed at his reluctance and Gaara simply wasn't in the mood to fight with the beast at the moment. So instead he studied the man before him and let the babble wash over him half-heard.

The jounin from Takigakure still looked a bit young for his age, looking scarcely older than his sister, despite the two scars crossing his face; one running horizontally from nose to ear below the right eye and the other running from just right of the center of his forehead at an angle down across the right eye to just below the point of his cheekbone. His vision seemed unimpaired, a small break in the scar's path over that more sensitive flesh, and Gaara wondered how he had received such distinguishing marks at such a young age. Most shinobi he knew took a bit longer to work themselves into danger enough to earn deep and scarring wounds. Well, to be honest Gaara was rather sure that he and Naruto would've sported similar marks if not for their demons.

The Kazekage hid his sudden scowl at the direction of his thoughts with a slow blink and a sigh, ripping his mind off track and back to the matter at hand. Nishin stopped speaking about whatever it was he had been going on about – something about feng shui and zen – to stare quizzically at the younger leader.

"I'm sorry," the redhead apologized coolly, stone-faced façade coming readily to his features. The lie felt bitter even as it rolled easily off his tongue after so many years of practicing false pleasantries. "I'm very busy and need to get back to work. All of our missions requiring jounin rank have been assigned today. If you'd like to come back another day I will see if something is available for you then."

"That's no problem, Kazekage-sama," Nishin replied with a wide grin, one that Gaara found distinctly disturbing though he couldn't say quite why. He set his tea cup down on the tray as he stood, surreptitiously brushing dust from his black and light blue uniform before propping a hand on his hip in a pose that seemed thoughtful if not for the broad smile that was turned full force toward the Kazekage. Gaara was surprised to feel perturbed by the look, and if he had to put it to words he'd say it looked sly, though whether it was innocent or not he couldn't say. "I'll just take this bit of time to relax, then. Maybe we can talk some more." Nishin turned on his heel, shoulder dipping in a way that almost seemed like bow, and left the office, calling back "Have a good day, Kazekage-sama," as the door shut behind him.

Gaara stared at the closed door a few moments longer. Sometimes he really hated being Kazekage. Sometimes he really hated being himself. He closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against them until stars danced behind the lids. It wasn't that he hated people, not really, it was just that he couldn't help wanting to avoid them. The urge to keep his distance was easier to bear most times, and he was getting better about it, but when he was worked up like this it was more than his nerves could take to endure the social flood. He wanted to just crawl in a hole and wait until the world made sense again. Not that it ever really had, but that was beside the point.

The door swinging open interrupted his introspective thoughts before they spiraled any further, and with blurred and hazy eyes Gaara glared at his brother, who only reflected the look back as he shut the door firmly.

"What happened?" Kankurou demanded without preamble. The maroon stripes on his face only served to make his eyes seem more ominous as he stood with his arms crossed on the other side of the desk.

For a second Gaara wanted to snarl at the interruption, brother or not. Couldn't he get any peace? Instead he forced false carelessness as he bit out the simple words "Excuse me?"

"I want to know what happened. You've been walking around like wrath incarnate for a week now. A week before that you were happy as a salamander. Now either you've gone bi-polar – which I severely hope isn't the case because there's only so many issues I think I can handle – or something happened to piss you off. So what is it?"

This time Gaara did snarl, an angry rumble that didn't sound entirely human even to his own ears. "Mind your own business, Kankurou."

"You're my brother, it is my business," the elder persisted, standing his ground in a way that the Kazekage might have found admirable at another place and time; it was certainly a novel experience for the kugutsutsukai just come at an ill-time. Still he didn't waver, matching his younger brother glare for glare, body language alone stating in no uncertain terms that he wasn't going to back down from this.

Gaara decided not to reiterate his refusal when a good steady glare would say it for him.

Unfortunately, Kankurou had long since become unaffected by his younger brother's glares since he stopped killing at whim. Or if he wasn't entirely unfazed he did a very nice job of looking like he was, as he stared back expectantly. He even started a slow staccato of his foot tapping against the floor in the silence. One could almost hear the crickets chirping as well, adding to the sketchy breaths in an eerie beat luring out the beginnings of a psychotic episode.

"Did someone die?" the elder brother asked suddenly, watching Gaara's expression for any change or clue that might indicate whether he was hitting close to the mark. He didn't expect an answer and wasn't disappointed when the stony face remained the unchanged. "I guess not, you wouldn't really be that angry unless me or Temari died... She didn't, did she?" The slight flare of panic faded before it could fully bloom as yet again the expression remained unchanged. Well, that was good... he really didn't want to hear that his sister had died in a foreign country on a diplomatic mission of all things. "Did one of the envoys cause an incident? Are we at war? Are the nobles harassing you again?" Still no change. He continued in the same vein for some time, asking questions ranging from the state of the Village to the weather, and the only changes he was able to note was an increase in irritation. He started to suspect that Gaara had zoned out on him.

"Did the squirrels run off with all your underwear to use as parachutes for their acorn bombing raid?"

The look of sheer dumbfounded confusion that broke across the surface of the pale face, brief though the moment was before settling back into the expressionless mask, reassured Kankurou. "All right, so at least I know you are listening... hmm." He thought for another few seconds, trying to come up with something else to break his brother out of his self-imposed shell.

"Give it up, Kankurou," Gaara stated finally, voice carefully modulated to be as even and unrevealing as his expression. "Mind your own business and go find something else to do."

"Fine then, tell me what happened to Naruto."

A narrowing of the eyes and tightening of the jaw from clenching his teeth were all that betrayed his thoughts on that question, but it was enough for Kankurou to latch onto. He'd suspected something had happened between them, but now he didn't envy himself the necessity of not only prying into his little brother's private life, but his love life to boot.

"Did you two have a fight?"

"Get out."

"Did– what?"

"Get out," Gaara repeated, voice low and decidedly deadly sounding. Kankurou blinked and forced himself to stand his ground when instinct yelled at him to take the exit while it was offered. He ignored instinct and braced himself.

"No," he answered back with as much bravado as he could muster at the moment, flinching back as Gaara stood so quickly his chair nearly toppled over, the fury almost palpable in the suddenly-confining room. Gaara was well and truly angry, a state Kankurou had not seen for many years and would have been perfectly happy never seeing again. He consoled himself with the thoughts that Gaara wouldn't actually kill his older brother and took what was left of his spine to keep pushing. "I'm not going anywhere now that I know what's really bothering you. So why don't you just tell me what happened with you two?"

"I told you to get out."

"Not until you tell me what happened."

"Nothing happened; now get out of my office."

"Like hell I will, tell me what's going on! I can tell you're lying so just give up the act already, Gaara!" When no answer was forthcoming he decided to push a little harder and take a gamble on a guess. "What did you do to him?"

"What?" The single word came out as a low angry hiss.

"It doesn't take a genius to know that Naruto came here to see you, but while you've been angry all week he's been depressed. I mean, he may not be my favorite person in the world but seeing a guy like that walking around depressed is just... depressing!" he finished lamely, too flustered to think of a better and less-redundant explanation. "He hasn't been in here doing his job the entire time when before you could barely pry you two apart. Now, you being pissed at the world isn't exactly new but a depressed Naruto is just plain weird. So yeah, what did you do to him?"

"What did I do to him?" Gaara repeated incredulously, "I didn't do anything!"

"Fine, what did Naruto do?" Kankurou asked instead, taking his cue from his brother's reaction to edit his question a bit. Gaara opened his mouth but just as quickly snapped it shut, resuming his glare full force. The redhead was suddenly furious at the entire situation and even more furious at himself for letting himself fall into it. But damn Kankurou and deciding to be a proper big brother, butting into business that was none of his concern. "You're going to have to tell me eventually, Gaara. Tell me what he did to make you so upset and I'll go beat him up for you." He cracked his knuckles for emphasis, but it was just too absurd an idea to even contemplate; he knew as well as Gaara did that he wouldn't be able to beat up Naruto unless the anbu allowed it and that Gaara was perfectly capable of beating up Naruto if the situation warranted it... at least he could do it far better than his elder brother ever could. Kankurou continued to wheedle and press his little brother for answers, trying to wear down his resolve with sheer bombardment.

"He said he loved me!" Gaara snapped finally, hitting the breaking point of too many voices drowning out his own thoughts, halfheartedly hoping that once Kankurou knew the answer he'd finally give up and go away. It was too much to hope for though, just a short silent respite while the puppeteer reeled back in surprise and tried to process the admission that Gaara was already wishing he could take back. He moved forward, planning to just escape the situation entirely, but his movement knocked Kankurou out of his stupor so that he managed to intercept his escape before he made it to the door.

"Move," Gaara commanded again.

"No," his brother once more refused to comply.

"If you won't get out of my office then I will, move before I make you."

"You're not going anywhere until you tell me what's really wrong. You can't possibly be mad just because he loves you," Kankurou snapped in exasperation, but whatever else he might have said – if anything at all – died in his throat from the sudden ferocious snarl the teen emitted at those words. In general, Gaara didn't talk much.. or make a lot of noise at all for that matter. He was one of those silent types that preferred to communicate through glares. The rare and vocal warning snarls and hisses weren't entirely lost on the puppeteer and he was left wondering just what the name of the desert could possibly be able to upset the otherwise stoic Kazekage so much – and just what he had gotten himself into. Finally he smacked a hand against his forehead in the universal sign of a weary soul dealing with stupidity, and commented "Oh tell me you didn't..."

Silence.

Then Gaara made another move to the door and was yet again intercepted. Kankurou was just lucky that it had become habit for the redhead to ignore or do the opposite of whatever his demon wanted and so wasn't taking the suggestion of just forcing his way past.

"Look," the elder male said after a moment, tugging off his pointed hat to scrub at his hair in frustration before replacing it with a gruff sigh, "I know we're not that close, but you're still my brother. Normally I think Temari would handle this a lot better, but she's off playing with shadows and you're avoiding a certain other blonde replacement. Now, just because I wouldn't normally say this, doesn't mean it's not true so listen up. I love you, Gaara."

The furious look already filling the green eyes took a turn for murderous that truly scared the other male for the first time in a long time.

"Temari too!" he continued quickly, "We're your family so it's a little different, but we still love you and so does Naruto so –"

"GET OUT!" Gaara screamed, drowning out whatever it was that his brother was trying to say. Enraged, he lashed out with an arc of sand, wanting to make the words stop, hating Kankurou for saying them when he thought that he could trust him. The kugutsutsukai was only fast enough to pull out Karasu as a quick shield but still the attack almost got past the makeshift defense, leaving the wooden face cracked and an arm hanging broken and useless. Splinters littered the floor all around. This time when the redhead tried to run, the elder didn't try to stop him, instead collapsing to the floor of the now-empty office, shaken and scared.

Gaara didn't exactly run, but he walked with such speed and determination that it may as well have been a run. People ducked away from him in the halls, pressing themselves against the walls in an effort to avoid the obvious rage that surrounded the Kazekage like a cloud.

He didn't care.

But he didn't know where he was going, either. His only goal was to justget away. Anywhere, as long as it was away from everything. It took him a minute to realize that he was treading the familiar path to his quarters, almost to the bridge that led to the other building, and stopped abruptly. It was where he usually went for peace, but he hadn't been there since they...

He made an abrupt turn and went back the way he had come, refusing to enter that room. Away from the room, away from the building that held it, he made his way outside and jumped to a nearby roof. No thoughts, no destination, just moving forward and away from everything that was making his world crash down around him.

Guards and sentries occupied many of the roofs as well, watching for anything from minor street side confrontations to outright invasions. Gaara spotted one standing three buildings away, walking in a slow circuit around his post. Soon he'd turn enough to see Gaara, a moving spot of darkness in the otherwise earthy brown scenery, and would likely wonder what his Kazekage was doing rushing about. He was suddenly afraid that the sentry would see him, stop him, try to find out what was wrong and it'd all happen again. Being out in the open, running and jumping across rooftops was too exposed and this time he was too upset to even spare the energy to hate himself for such cowardice. Shukaku sniggered in obscene amusement at his host's predicament, cheerfully forcing the redhead to relive the unwanted memories, but Gaara didn't have the will to fight with his demon. Not anymore. He accepted the taunts and mocking play-by-play of his misery meekly.

Gaara turned, still keeping the guard in his peripheral, and quickly calculated if he could run around the berth of the building and out of sight in time. The guard turned and with a grunt of frustration he turned and forced his way through the rooftop door a few steps away, shutting it behind him. Once he was sure that there was no one following him, listening intently at the door for nearly a minute, he reached for the handle to escape again only to stop halfway through the motion. He couldn't very well go back outside since the guard was still there and would undoubtedly see him leaving, making the whole escape pointless.

A quick survey of the room found it to be empty – unsurprising, since someone would assuredly have questioned his break in had they been there, a fact Gaara hadn't really considered at the time. It seemed rather barren and unoccupied, actually, and had the overall layout of a vacant flat. With a slight wince the Kazekage started into the room towards another door and presumably a set of stairs leading down, hoping with each step that the rest of the building would be equally as untenanted.

It was.

Despite Shukaku's incessant laughter echoing through his mind, he managed to at least appear like he had every reason for walking out of an abandoned building in case someone happened to see him. He hadn't escaped inquiry only to fall right back into it. But the effort was for naught as the door opened up into a simple three-way intersection, going both left and right and then straight ahead. He looked first left, then right, trying to decide which direction to go, then back to the left – in fact, he wasn't quite sure where he was anymore; things looked rather different on the ground. Shukaku's snide commentary on his decision-making abilities weren't helping with the process.

"Oya oya, if it isn't the Kazekage."

The slow, elderly voice nearly made him wince at being caught before even making a decision which way to go. Gaara turned towards the center path, but the empty apology died on his lips before it could be uttered at seeing just where he had ended up. The clarity of exactly where he was smacked him upside the head as thoroughly as one of his sister's fans. He cut off that line of thought and stepped forward down the center path towards the old man.

Elder Ebizo watched Gaara's approach from behind a bushy set of brows but refrained from commenting until he'd reached the edge of the small artificial pool. "You look upset," was his simple observation. Gaara refrained from snarling back, but just barely. Instead he grunted noncommittally and waited for the old man to say whatever it was that he was going to say.

"Aa, I see," the old man responded, as if Gaara's own response – or lack thereof – was enough to tell him everything he needed to know about the situation. He managed not to snap back something inappropriate by clenching his jaw until it ached, though he really felt insulted by the small words. Nothing in Gaara's life was ever simple and he resented the fact that some old man who'd barely spoken to him a handful of times in his life would think that he could understand any of it after only a glance. Even though he had the feeling that he should be saying something or asking some sort of follow-up to the vague statement, Gaara couldn't quite manage to make himself say anything – he wasn't sure he trusted himself to speak just yet, either. So he stood and he waited when he really just wanted to walk away, but the Elder had called out to him first and even a Kage shouldn't ignore such a summons.
There was continued silence between the pair, not even the slightest rustling of fabrics, and even outside sounds of the city seemed incapable of coming in over the high stone walls. The water remained serene and still as the line from the old man's rod rested within, waiting the bait to be bitten, if ever. Gaara's already glaring eyes narrowed as no more words were forthcoming. The old man opposite himself just sat as serenely as the water before him, calm in this awkward and deafening silence that was swelling and growing around him like a suffocating nightmare. It was too much and Gaara fought the urge to fidget, fisting his hands by his thighs, which at least helped to dull the pain in his temples by having another ache to focus on. He very much wanted to yell at the man and demand he say whatever he wanted to say so Gaara could get away from there. Elder Ebizo still made no motion to speak – indeed, it seemed like he'd even forgotten that the Kazekage was there.

His wandering eyes caught sight of the second rod lying beside the pool directly opposite of the old man. Staring at it, Gaara wondered with mounting frustration if he was being tested. He waited another minute for something to happen before succumbing to the silent demand and sank down to sit cross-legged in the obviously empty seat. As he reached for the abandoned fishing rod, he noted with a grimace that it used to belong to Elder Chiyo before she had died. Saving him. Gaara ignored Shukaku's comments about what a waste her sacrifice had been and focused instead on tying a bobber onto the line and casting it into the small pool, watching as the series of ripples spread out and dissipated. With a small sigh, he settled in and waited for the old man to finally speak. Shukaku just commended him on his excellent ability to avoid people, keeping up a running commentary summarizing his attempts so far. Gaara didn't even bother to fight back against the cheerful sarcasm.

If he were to be honest with himself, a part of him hoped that Elder Ebizo could somehow help him. Old people were supposed to be wise, right? That's why the Elders were so respected, after all. Shukaku smugly asked if that meant he was one of the wisest creatures alive. Gaara snapped back that he was neither wise nor alive, but amended his theory nonetheless.

When a few more minutes passed, he began to wonder if the Elder wasn't subjecting him to this oppressive silence out of spite… if he didn't just hate Gaara for Chiyo's death. Shukaku seemed to support the conclusion but the demon's opinion was never of much use, anyway. The redhead turned his gaze instead from the still pool to the equally still man across from him, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Hey, are you dead?" he finally asked impatiently, tired of waiting for the old man to say something. Ebizo started to shake a little then tossed his head back and lot out a long cackling laugh. Gaara glared, feeling like he was being laughed at and not liking it one bit.

"I used to ask Chiyo-neesan that all the time, you know," Ebizo said in amusement after he'd finished. Gaara just grunted again, hoping that now the Elder would finally speak to him. But no, it was never that easy for him and he found himself settled right back into the awkward silence he'd been enduring before.

"Are there even any fish in here?" he growled after a few more minutes, staring at the two clear lines that disappeared into the too-calm water. He hadn't seen the water move yet and sincerely doubted there was anything in the pool except their bait.

"Fishing isn't about the fish," Ebizo told him, nodding sagely, though Gaara suspected he was actually just nodding off and falling asleep more than anything. What did that even mean? Why was he being subjected to this?

"There's no fish, are there." It wasn't really a question.

The old man's head slipped down and jerked back up again, but he said nothing. Gaara sighed.

"There's no fish…"

Gaara was sorely tempted to just destroy the whole place, but since that wasn't really an option he settled for slapping a hand over his eyes and dragging it down his face with a low growl of supreme frustration. He spent another few minutes mentally grumbling to himself before he was pulled out of his thoughts by the unexpected words of the old man.

"What are you doing here?" Elder Ebizo wondered suddenly, speaking without provocation for the first time since he hailed Gaara. The teenager was about to snap that he wanted to know that too, but realized that the old man actually seemed honestly confused, so opted instead for another noncommittal grunt and silently amended his theory to reflect that the old man was obviously senile.
"This is unfitting for someone like you, Kazekage-kun," the Elder continued, "You young people have too much energy for fishing, so you should be doing what young people do when they're troubled."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Gaara muttered back, clutching at the useless rod and staring at the curved wood morosely. Ebizo laughed again.

"Go throw yourself off a cliff, punch walls or drink yourself silly… I forget what you young generations do really, but it's not something like this."
Gaara simply stared at the old man, well continued to really glare at him, as if insulted. "I don't drink."

The bushy eyebrows drew together and the wrinkled skin folded more as the old man frowned. "Why not?"

"I –" Gaara began, but stopped, realizing that it would probably take too much effort to explain and he doubted that anyone would understand his reasons anyway. "I just don't."

"Have you ever tried it?"

"No. I don't intend to, either."

"Why not?" the old man asked again. Gaara grit his teeth and didn't answer. "Don't knock it 'til you try it, eh?"

He was dubious of the suggestion but took a moment to really ponder the options anyway. It seemed like the old man had nothing else to add so Gaara pulled himself up quickly with a huff from his sitting position. Without a word, but with a small nod, he replaced the rod and left.
"You're welcome," Ebizo called after him, setting his gaze upon the water once again. "Young people these days..." He sighed with another chuckle.

Gaara ducked around the corner and headed back towards the center of the Village, seeking out his last refuge. It was almost halfway across the Village from where he was, but it didn't matter. It was a goal. He decided it was perhaps safest to stay on the ground level. People didn't usually approach him, after all, so he was less likely to be approached down here than up on the roofs where the patrols were. He was thankfully left alone during the few minutes' walk.

The familiar sight of his door was, for once, a welcome one when he landed outside the house with only a small cloud of dust displaced from the street. Quickly, he opened the door and stepped inside, shutting it behind himself. The family room ahead was dark but unchanged since the last time he had been in the house, so many weeks ago. He turned and locked the door, then for good measure, molded a bit of sand around every crevice and lock of every door or window leading to the outside. There, let any of them try to get to him now. He wouldn't allow it, he resolved, and the demon laughed at his vow.

Satisfied that he was safe now and all entrances blocked, he toed off his shoes and hurried towards his room at the back of the building. Secluded. Quiet. Perfect.

He felt anxious, heart beating swiftly out of proportion to the simple run from his office. He wanted – needed – to calm down somehow, to relax. So he stood a moment in the main room just trying to think of what to do next. Tea, he decided, was called for to remedy the situation. Yes, tea would be good. Gaara turned abruptly towards the kitchen and closed the distance in a few hurried steps. The kitchen was a moderate size, not large but not too small, either. He hadn't spent much time in it, except to eat, but he at least knew where everything was and began collecting items swiftly.

Preparing the tea was a welcome distraction to the other thoughts vying for his attention and Gaara set about the tasks with single-minded determination. He didn't really look at which tea he grabbed when he reached into the shelf, not really caring either which way what he ended up drinking. While the water boiled in a kettle he opened up the tin and tapped out a suitable portion of the dehydrated leaves into the wire mesh cylinder nestled in the ceramic teapot. Shukaku made his own suggestions for beverage choice, opting for something a little heartier than some measly boiled plant water. Gaara didn't really think it necessary explain to his demon why he wasn't going to comply with the usual request, despite suggestions to the contrary from senile old men. He'd declined enough over the years that it really should go without saying, but as Shukaku continued to whine and wheedle it occurred to the redhead… well, why not?

Going against the habit to always deny his beast, Gaara took a moment to fully rethink out the suggestion. He was older now, not that age was really an issue for such as he, but it was at least acceptable. With the new seals he wouldn't have to worry about Shukaku taking over his mind anymore, which had always been the chief reason behind his denials. The more he thought about it the more he realized that he really didn't have any valid reason not to agree. Like Elder Ebizo had said, it seemed to work for others when they wanted to forget their problems so…

… why not?

With that deciding thought in mind, Gaara turned and opened up a cupboard full of tall glass bottles and shifted them about until he spotted one of the sake bottles that was intended for imbibing rather than cooking. He set the bottle on the counter and opened up another door above his head to pull down the tokkuri and a single choko and setting them both next to the bottle, trying to ignore the pleased murmurs from his demon. The tea kettle began whistling and he turned again to remove it from the heat.

Well, he didn't really need to have two drinks now, did he? Making a quick decision, he grabbed a pot and emptied all the boiling water into it, sparing none for the waiting teapot. While it cooled a little, the Kazekage turned back to the bottle on the other counter, noting by the label that he had chosen a rather premium genjou sake. All the better then. Nimble fingers opened up the bottle and poured the liquid into the tokkuri flask, setting it then inside the pot of hot water to be warmed. He watched the alcohol closely and when he judged it warm enough pulled the tokkuri out by a careful grasp of the rim. With the flask in one hand and choko cup in the other Gaara turned to head back out of the kitchen, but at Shukaku's urging, returned to place the entire sake bottle in the warm water and carrying the entire thing, pot and all, back to his room.

Since his hands were full, Gaara used his sand to open the door to his room and also to shut it behind him after he stepped inside. The room was dim, the round window holes facing east and letting in little of the fading afternoon light. It was enough to see by, though, and he didn't miss a step as he quietly crossed the bare floor to where his seldom-used bed, setting the warm pot down on the side table. He didn't even look at the things he shoved aside to make space for the container, but still grabbed at the toppled pictured frame and tossed it blindly into the drawer below. He didn't want to see or think about his family yet. Tokkuri and choko still in hand, the redhead settled himself cross-legged on the bed.

The choko was a small cup and filled quickly with the warm clear liquid. Green eyes stared into the tiny pool of alcohol as he wondered for a moment just what exactly he was doing. This wasn't him. This wasn't something that Sabaku no Gaara would do. He was better than those men who drowned their sorrows at a bar, seeking release in the bottom of a bottle. He wasn't so pathetic.

But was he really? He thought over the situation again while Shukaku paced and hissed impatiently for him to drink. At least those other men managed to lead relatively normal lives, managed to retain something important somehow. But here Gaara was, his reality crashing down around him, his very existence a mockery. Was he really any better off than anyone else? Wasn't he, in fact, worse? He felt betrayed, bereft, barren… His life was already ruined, was it really so wrong of him to want to do something to escape it? Escape, even for a little while, feeling like his entire existence was a mockery.

He had nothing left to lose.

When the urgent hiss came again, Gaara nodded once to himself and tosses his head back as he drained the entire glass in one burning swallow.

As far as Shukaku was concerned, that long anticipated swallow was a bittersweet experience. On the one hand, he had been waiting years for his killjoy host to give him a bloody drink of sake, so he felt that he was reasonably disappointed to find that he couldn't actually share the taste of the drink at all. Of all the cruel tricks for fate to play on him, not even getting to enjoy the taste after more than a decade of wheedling and whining for some alcohol. Denied, oh so harshly. On the other hand, he at least had the amusement of his host choking and hacking on the drink. He let his displeasure be known with a gusty sigh that went entirely unnoticed by his still-coughing host. He could feel, just a little bit, the way it warmed the brat's stomach as it settled.

Well, he'd take what he could get. Yet another instance of having to live – if this pitiful existence he endured could really be called that – vicariously through his host. When he finally stopped gagging, Shukaku urged Gaara to take another drink. The twerp made a rather rude suggestion on what he could go do with himself, to which the demon snorted that he would if he could. Anatomical impossibility notwithstanding, he'd be required to have an actual body to comply. Something he sorely missed and didn't appreciate having it rubbed in. He grumbled again for another drink.

Gaara balked.

Shukaku slammed his head against the bars of his cage and just roared in frustration. No. No no no! There was no way in hell he was going to let his uptight brat of host taunt him with the alcohol and then just yank it away. He screeched as loud as he could manage for him to take the damn drink! The argument that ensued over the subject made the demon remember just how much he hated being stuck in this kid. It took nearly five minutes of fighting with each other before Gaara finally gave in with a snarl after Shukaku demanded to know just why not. It had been his own argument so the kid finally sucked it up and downed another cup in one gulp, this time managing not to cough quite so much.

'I hate you,' Gaara grumbled at him, talking out loud at the voice in his head like a lunatic but Shukaku could hear him just the same.

"The feeling is mutual, brat. Take another drink before it gets cold." This time Gaara complied with the command without much complaint. Shukaku plopped down on the floor of his cage and, after a moment's consideration, rolled over onto his back with his massive arms spread wide and hummed to himself as he soaked up every little bit of his host's sensations that he could. It was like being numb, just a little shy of completely senseless. Like feeling a stab like a pinprick, a punch like a caress… the sensations were hazy and dimmed but Shukaku could feel them, just barely, at the edge of his senses. He welcomes the warm tingle in his belly, relishing it like a fine meal and trying not to be too bitter about the poor quality of sensation.

He missed it. Decades of forced sobriety were almost like a physical pain, one that he had gotten used to for so long that he didn't even remember it was there until it was soothed. If there was anything Shukaku liked more than blood it was alcohol.

Gaara didn't even hesitate when the demon prompted him to drink a fourth glass, obeying silently while he sat in his own morose thoughts that Shukaku tried to tune out. By the fifth cup he didn't even have to be prompted. By the eighth, the boy gave up the choko entirely and downed the rest of the contents from the tokkuri directly, shifting enough to pull the sake bottle from the pot on the side table to refill the tokkuri before returning it to the warm water.

For a time, the kid managed to remain mostly mindless while he drank; staring at the shadows on the wall as they grew deeper with the fading light and taking slow drinks of the alcohol. It felt like a holiday for Shukaku, not only getting to finally have a bit of booze but to be able to enjoy it in relative silence. Soon enough, though, the monotony of the drinking settled in and Gaara's mind began to wander.

Unsurprisingly, it settled on the very thoughts that he'd been trying to avoid all week, which honestly made Shukaku just want to laugh. So he did, albeit quietly because he was in a mood to enjoy the kid's misery some more. Frankly, it gave him a sort of happy tingly feeling of satisfaction to know that his host was finally forsaking the Youko's brat. It served the bastard right to have his claim refuted, to feel the great Shukaku's scorn! He only wished that he could enjoy the bastard's misery first-hand, but he would suffice with the paltry suffering of his own brat.

Shukaku watched Gaara's thoughts – his memories – replaying over again in a tight loop. Watched with distaste as the brat remembered the flurry of hands and desperate touches, the ragged pants as he moved frantically against the Kyuubi's host, the haze while they recovered, and inevitably to the final murmured confession that caused such delicious fury in his brat's mind. He watched as the thoughts lingered on that confession, the way that their sweaty and breathless mate had smiled, reached up to slip calloused fingers caressingly over his host's cheek, then murmured the simple words that destroyed everything.

I love you, Gaara.

In a rare show of guts, Shukaku thought, his host had reacted in fury and denied the other host. The words echoed again, kiss bruised lips forming them amidst and relaxed and contented façade, I love you, Gaara. Then the loop started over again. Remembering the fervent mating that had led to equally heated dismissal. Gaara tipped back another long swallow of tepid sake and Shukaku realized that if he wanted to continue enjoying this, he had better make sure that the brat would stay conscious enough to make it last. As loathe as he was to deny himself even a smidgeon of the wonderful inebriation, the demon exerted a bit of his chakra control to cleanse a bit of the toxins out of the kid's bloodstream to sober him up just at little, or at the least keep him from getting more wasted than he already was; who knew when he'd ever get the opportunity for this again, he damned well wanted to enjoy it as long as possible!

After a few cycles the memory-thoughts shifted again to something older. Much older. A time when Gaara was still but a child having a rather nauseating discussion about love, of all things, with his uncle. He sat beside his guardian, vision blurred from crying, listening to the man try to explain the concept. Then Yashamaru had wrapped an arm around his host's younger shoulders, pulling him into a close embrace and saying I love you, Gaara-sama.

Another memory; his brat of a host moping on the roof, another attack deflected by his sand – and Shukaku smirked smugly at this memory – another assassin. He could feel his host's morose mood slip back towards fury as he took another drink, remembering seeing Yashamaru behind the assassin's mask, and remembering Yashamaru's confession about hating him for his sister's death. Remembering Yashamaru calling him a monster.

The memories conflicted. Yashamaru saying he loved Gaara. Yashamaru saying he hated him.

'Lies!' his host snarled into his silent room, anger and hatred for his deceased uncle burning alongside the alcohol in his system. Shukaku purred quietly in delight. He had to admit, he liked the brat better like this and with a little prodding he goaded the thoughts and the fury back to the matter of the Kyuubi. He urged the memory of their last mating to last longer, to draw out and prolong the kid's suffering as the resentment transferred itself to the jinchuuriki of Konoha. Shukaku grinned maliciously and waited for the climax of the memory and when the rage erupted anew he roared with laughter like it was the punch line of a joke he'd just never get tired of.

'I'm so glad you're enjoying yourself,' Gaara snarled bitterly, letting his demon know in no uncertain terms that he was far from pleased. Shukaku just laughed harder. 'I hate you. It's all your fault everyone hates me, betrays me!'

"Hey now!" Shukaku protested, affecting an affronted appearance in their mind "You can't blame this one on me anymore. You wanted me back, remember? This time it's all your doing so stop crying to me about it."

'Wantedyou?!'his host scoffed, choking a little on his sake. He glared at the walls of his room as if he was actually staring at his demon, though he was reluctant to sink into his own mind enough to face him across the bars. Shukaku sneered at the emptiness outside his cage as though it were proof of the pest's weakness.

'Don't flatter yourself, demon,' Gaara continued, 'There hasn't been a day of my miserable life that I've wanted you around. Those three years without you were the best of my life.'

"Right, sure kid. That's why you were begging to have me back, huh? I know you missed me," he sneered and then laughed at his own taunting, rolling merrily on the dirty floor of his cell.

'I should have left you in that contraption to rot,' the brat hissed, more anger and hatred in his voice than Shukaku had heard in a long time.

"I wish you had!" he huffed back in an exaggerated show of indifference, hiding the shudder he felt at the reminder of his captivity at the hands of the lunatics. Granted, he hated Gaara immensely, but being held hostage by a bunch of fanatics with a penchant for wearing red clouds and purple nail polish – nail polish!! – as a standard uniform was more than even he was willing to bear. It had been cold and dark and the short stint he had in one of the crazies as his host hadn't been a pleasant one. All in all, he was glad to have been back in the puny little runt of a ninja he was used to, but he'd just as soon rip his own tail off as admit it to his host! He did have pride, after all.

"But hey, I'm proud of you!" Shukaku continued, changing the subject. The kid scoffed warily and settled a little more comfortably with his half-empty sake bottle, having given up the smaller tokkuri altogether, shuddering as the demon's high chuckle reverberated through his mind. "I mean it, brat. You're turning into one right fine demon, if I do say so myself."

'You're even crazier than I thought, demon, you know that?'

"Pfft. You can't very well deny it, now can you? Not after everything you've done now."

'And what, exactly, have I done?' Gaara asked tiredly, humoring his demon even though Shukaku really just found his attitude more entertaining by the minute.

"Well, besides the wonderful amount of killing you've done, since I know you shinobi types are perfectly capable of rationalizing that to yourselves, I'm honestly more impressed by your more… recent… endeavors. Scorning love, for example!" he tossed his head back and laughed again, "It's classic! About damn time you realized what a waste that pathetic human sentiment is. Love," he spat the word out like it left a bad taste in his mouth, "just an excuse for the weak need for affection. It's absurd! You'd never catch any demon worth his salt claiming any bit of that wretched little emotion!"

'You're lying,' Gaara whispered hoarsely, interrupting his little monologue, and Shukaku cocked his head a little to one side curiously, absently scratching behind an ear.

"Now why would I go and do that, huh? Damn, brat, learn to take a compliment!"

'You're lying. I'm not like you.'

"Naturally, you could never dream of being as great as I am."

'I'm nothing like you!'

"Oh come now, you can't honestly say –"

'Shut up! I'm not a demon!!' before Shukaku could quite realize what was happening, Gaara lurched forward in his bed and punctuated his denial with the ominous shattering of the sake bottle against the far wall of the bedroom. The demon gaped for a moment before howling in anger.

"What in the seven sands do you think you're doing?!"

'Shut up.'

"You horrible little monster, what's wrong with you?"

'I'm not a monster!'

"YOU WASTED THE BOOZE!"

'Go to hell.'

"Look around brat! THIS IS IT!" he snarled and threw himself against the bars, "I take it back, not even a demon would waste good alcohol!"

'I'm not a demon!' but Gaara's yell was tinged with fear and horror and in his desperation to shut his demon up, he resorted to the only thing he knew of to escape.

Shukaku's screams of rage at the loss of sake turned abruptly into those of pain as his host abruptly used his newly acquired skill to bruise the chakra pores of the demon's seal. He felt his body, ethereal as it was, ripple in shock from the sudden damage to his chakra, his very essence.

"HOW DARE YOU, BRAT!"

The second pore was hit with bruising force and Shukaku collapsed to the floor of his cage, teeth bared and body convulsing from the effects. He felt suddenly hollow, thinned out and when he looked at his paw through slit eyes he almost expected to see himself fading away. It felt like he was fading.

"Just like a demon," he spat at his host, "to enjoy causing so much pain so readily."

'I'm not a demon,' Gaara hissed again.

"Of course not," Shukaku snarled with a mocking, gurgling laugh, "but what kind of human betrays love, huh?"

His cackle erupted into a newly agonized scream as the third pore was disrupted. The demon lost all sense of thought and time, his whole being centered around the excruciating pain he was forced to endure. It felt like his limbs were being ripped off, like he was being skinned alive… slowly, like every bone and muscle was being turned into liquid. His screams reverberated through his body like it was nothing but an empty husk. Shukaku screamed, knowing nothing else until he slipped into a state of mindless un-feeling that, had his twitching listless body been real, would probably have resembled comatose.

kompeitou: I know I probably don't deserve it after making everyone wait so long but... review please? I suck at writing angst and this chapter was hell for me, so I'd really appreciate some feedback on it. Thanks for reading nonetheless n.n