Disclaimer: If I owned Naruto, we would all be in serious trouble.

Warnings: This fic has bad language. Virgin ears be warned!

Chapter 9: Half Man, Half Bear, and Half Pig

"Is Sai in therapy?"

Shizune blinked in surprise at the man who had just burst into her office. She had gotten into the habit of staying at school until the program was over, just in case a serious problem ever arose; her aunt stayed ridiculously late anyway, always doing some kind of extra work (or catching a nap at her desk while pretending to do work), so it didn't make much difference. Then she would generally spend her evening in front of the TV or curled up with a good book, trying to keep her aunt from consuming anything alcoholic and simultaneously insisting she did not want to join eharmony.

Yet during this comfortable, monotonous routine she had fallen into, never had any of the teachers approached her after the program was over for the day. And she had never, quite frankly, expected Kakashi, bored, disinterested, seemingly uncaring Kakashi, to be the first. "I'm sorry?"

"Sai," the man repeated, "is he in therapy? I mean real therapy, not just this... thing."

Shizune wasn't sure whether or not that was a shot at 'this thing', but she decided to ignore it either way. "Why are you so keen on knowing all of a sudden?" Apprehension began to bubble up in her gut. "What happened?" Surely Sai out of all the children hadn't caused any real trouble, right?

"Well for starters, he just about proved your program can work assuming the kids cooperate and everything goes the way you have planned. But more importantly, he needs therapy." Kakashi sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "Psychology isn't exactly my forte, but I took enough courses in school and I've worked with kids long enough to know when one has suffered severe emotional trauma. Nothing else could possibly describe what I just saw. That kid needs to talk to someone."

Shizune slowly rearranged some papers, keeping her face neutral as she spoke. "You're right, he does; but no, he isn't in therapy. I've talked with his guardian several times regarding the matter, and it never went far." She fixed the masked man with a serious yet regretful look. "I can't force him to go to therapy, and I can't force his guardian to send him."

Kakashi understood that, and he knew it wasn't in anyway her fault, seeing as how she was completely powerless to do anything other than make suggestions. But, "The kid still needs something."

Shizune's next smile was downright rapacious, and forced the man to take a step back. "Well now... that's what you're here for, isn't it?"

With those words, Kakashi felt his entire line of thinking rework itself. Maybe this lousy program was more important than he'd first thought.

Dattebayo!

"So hey, man, we still on for Friday?" Kiba slapped the loud blond congenially on the back, simultaneously slinging an arm around the little redhead's shoulders. It had taken a while, but Gaara had finally come to accept physical contact from him so long as it wasn't an everyday occurrence.

Naruto shot a feral grin back at the brunette, their sharp canines dually flashing, making Gaara glare in amusement. "You bet. I'm psyched! Seriously can't wait!"

"Shika and Chouji are still in?"

"We're in," the ponytailed boy drawled, sauntering up to them with Chouji by his side, downing chips like the world would end. "It's troublesome, but we're in."

Kiba and Naruto both started in on him then, teasing him about how everything was troublesome. The boys, who normally didn't see each other outside of school, had finally decided to make plans to go to a movie and hang out that coming Friday. This was mostly brought on by the 'popular' upperclassmen suddenly raving about Josh Marsh's party, going on and on about how it would be the party of the year, making the boys feel like they were trapped in a bad teenage movie. Yet at the same time, it had motivated them to finally take some initiative and do something together the night of the 'awesome' party none of them would have a snowball's chance in hell of getting into. Naruto and Gaara were normally together anyway, Shikamaru and Chouji were rarely separated, and Kiba... well, Kiba hadn't been lying before when he said he had a lot of friends just no really good ones. He and Naruto shared the unique ability to fit in with just about any crowd, so long as it wasn't a bunch of stuck-up bastards, and so the dog-lover usually spent his Friday nights calling around, finding a group of people he knew that was doing something fun, and going wherever the night took him. And if worst came to worst, he could always convince Hana to do something with him... which still sounded lame, but hey, he liked his sister.

While Gaara ignored the commotion around him, teal eyes followed a certain tall sophomore as he made his way across the parking lot and away from the school, walking home as he did everyday. He really couldn't say where the idea came from, but it hit him like a bolt of lightening, hard and strong, and refused to be pushed away and ignored. He shifted under Kiba's hold, looking at the others. "I was wondering if I could invite someone to join us."

There was a moment of shocked silence, mostly just at the fact that Gaara was making any kind of willing effort towards socialization, before Naruto cheerfully crowed, "Sure, Tanuki-chan! The more the merrier!"

Sigh. "Whatever. Troublesome."

Kiba scratched lightly at his chin, eyes focused somewhere in the distance before turning back towards his friends. "Y'know, the same goes for me. There's someone I wanna invite too."

Naruto blinked at the other boy before leaning closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "Uh, Kiba... I don't think your sister's gonna want to spend her Friday night hanging out with us."

He was promptly hit on top of blond spikes. "Not her, dumbass!"

"Troublesome."

Dattebayo!

The flick of a lighter sounded softly as Asuma used his jacket to shield the small flame from the chilly autumn wind. He inhaled cancerous toxins and released them once more with a relieved sigh. Smoking was a horrible addiction, but he was trapped, no doubt about it. Placing the light brown end back between his lips and digging around his pocket for his keys, he stopped short, blinking in surprise at the sight before him. "Ino?"

The girl, who had unsurprisingly been playing with her phone, looked up from where she was seated on the front stairs, pink hood pulled up to fight the cold. "Oh, sensei. You're still here."

Asuma shifted the messenger bag on his shoulder filled with schoolwork and made his way up to stand beside her. "Yeah, had to put some grades in the computer. Why are you still here? Need a ride?" Technically, teachers weren't allowed to drive students anywhere without their parents' permission first, but Asuma had done it before on a few occasions and knew other teachers who did it all the time. He didn't mind risking it.

"No thanks, sensei, my ride's almost here." Ice blue eyes suddenly sharpened and shot a fearsome glare at the still lit cigarette. Asuma sheepishly stubbed it out against the side of the building, rubbing the back of his neck. Not that he was afraid of a student seeing him smoking after hours; they were high schoolers, they knew lots of people, including teachers, smoked, but Ino had really seemed to hate that little white stick.

"Okay, if you're sure. Your father's awfully late today."

She waved a hand at him dismissively, already fiddling with her phone once more. "Daddy's not picking me up today."

The big man frowned. "Oh?" He had been leaving just as Ino was being picked up on several occasions and had thus caught glimpses of the middle-aged blond man and his expensive car. He was under the impression that was who picked her up everyday. "But you do have a ride?"

"Of course." The sound of obnoxiously loud hip-hop with the bass cranked up slowly started to fill their ears, making the blond stand and gather her things. "That's probably him now."

Of course, Asuma thought with a disdainful eye roll. Not that he didn't enjoy playing his own music loud, but there was a difference. You could always just tell when someone turned their radio up just to gain everyone's attention when they drove by rather than because they actually just enjoyed the music at that volume. He imagined Ino's ride was likely one of those lousy jock punks. He wasn't disappointed when the car, nicer than anything any teenager should own, pulled up and the driver was Brian Schaeffer.

Ino immediately flashed a winning smile the boy's way, leaving Asuma without even the slightest goodbye, not that he'd expected any differently. The bearded teacher actually had to fight the urge to grab the girl and shake her, yell at her that she could do so much better and was degrading herself both by acting this way and hanging around with assholes like her current boyfriend. Instead he just lit himself another cigarette, watching as the car drove off and planning ahead for some of the group activities they could do when he was given free reign over the program. There was a good chance nothing would work, but he could at least try. He kind of felt he had to.

Dattebayo!

The sportscar tore into the driveway and near breakneck speed, terrifying the raven in the passenger seat as he gripped the whatever part of the car was closest and held on for dear life. Fucking crazy Itachi...

"Sorry, little brother, I'm in a hurry today."

Sasuke just shot his brother a silent glare, grabbing the backpack at his feet and climbing from the car with whatever dignity he could still muster, slamming the door particularly hard behind him. Itachi just sighed and threw the vehicle into reverse, backing out of the driveway and taking off once more. He hadn't lied, he really was in a hurry. His appointment started in ten minutes and it was a twenty minute drive. He really should have known better than to make the appointment so close to Sasuke's pickup time, but it was the only spot the doctor had open that entire week, and Itachi really didn't want to put it off an extra week. Every two weeks was working well, and whatever worked he wanted to stick with. Sasuke wasn't the only one in the family who needed therapy.

Sasuke meanwhile trudged through the house, kicking slightly worn shoes off in the entryway, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it neatly in the hall closet. Their house, the same both brothers had grown up in, really wasn't that large a place. Most of the money that went along with the Uchiha name had actually belonged to the boys' grandfather and later uncle. Their father, on the other hand, had declined going into the family business and chose to be a high-ranking police officer instead. Their house was a comfortable, middle-class, four bedroom, two and a half bath with a two car garage and lovely brick exterior. Very nice and well-maintained, but nothing overly fancy, and certainly nothing compared to the nearby Hyuuga manor. And while they now had more than enough money left by their grandfather and, though Sasuke was loathe to admit it, being raked in by Itachi's business to buy more spacious accommodations, neither boy felt the need nor the desire to do so. In fact, if Itachi ever even mentioned it, Sasuke knew he would pitch a fit. This was the home they had grown up in, lived as a family in... This was the home their parents died in... Sasuke's jaw clenched at that thought, and he willed himself not to dwell on it, not now at least. Now wasn't the right time for brooding or plotting.

There was a bang from the kitchen and Sasuke winced, knowing who was causing the noise. Ellen, the cleaning lady/cook/general caretaker of the house. Not that the boys relied on her for everything, but she did do a lot, especially in the food department. It's just that normally she was gone by the time Sasuke got home, especially now that he stayed for the after school program. Something the duck-haired boy had always considered a blessing.

Because he hated Ellen. Because Ellen loved Itachi.

It often ended up leading to their personalities clashing just a bit. Normally he avoided her like the plague, but tonight, she was in the kitchen and he was very, very thirsty. And he was not about to be scared away from a room in his own home just because that bitch was in there.

Steeling himself for the worst, he made his way calmly into the yellow and white toned room, purposely not looking in the woman's direction and making a beeline straight for the cabinet containing the cups. Ellen, of course, was not one to be ignored.

"So you're home, are you, brat? I thought I heard your brother's car."

"Hn." Dark eyes never left his task of pouring cherry Coke from the red bottle into the glass. Just fill it up and leave.

"In one of your pleasant moods again, I see." A terse sigh, followed by the rustle of fabric as she leaned against the counter and crossed her arms. "Your poor brother, having to put up with a moody teenager at his age."

Sasuke immediately felt his hackles raise in response, even though he knew she was only doing it to piss him off. Black eyes flew up to glare at the middle-aged, ice blond, heavy-set woman. What the hell did she know anyway? In her mind (and everyone else's), Itachi was a handsome, polite young man who owned his own business and took care of his orphaned baby brother. His worst faults were being a little cold and emotionally closed off from other people, something that they always overlooked after knowing about his parents' tragic deaths. A growl rose up in Sasuke's throat. They didn't know anything. They hadn't been there. They had no idea what happened that night!

Grabbing his Coke with a simple, "Fuck you, Ellen," the teen made his way to his room, slamming the door petulantly behind him, not caring in the least if the action was childish or not. No one but him knew what Itachi really was, not yet. But he would make sure everyone knew in the end. He would get revenge for his parents. Before all was said and done, he would take his brother down. He swore it on the Uchiha name.

Dattebayo!

"This is manipulation at its highest level. You should let me handle this."

"I'm a pretty bad kid."

"Really? What's the worst thing you've ever done?"

"I stole the head off a statue once."

"Wow, that's pretty hardcore. Geez, that's like this one time when I didn't like a kid, so I ground his parents up into chili and fed it to him."

Ah, South Park. Shikamaru's favorite escape from reality and all the ridiculous crap it entailed. Because when he was relaxing in his room, high about ninety percent of the time, and a bootlegged DVD of that amazing cartoon show was playing on his fifty dollar piece of crap TV... He sighed. Perfection.

He figured he enjoyed that particular show so much because while humorous, it also had underlying messages either subtly or not so subtly thrown in as well, enough to stimulate his over sized brain and keep him focused on the show and nothing but the show. Because with such a big brain he often found it difficult to just relax and focus on one thing. His mind wanted to multitask and focus on ten different things at once, and quite frankly, that took way too much effort, despite the fact that it was generally within his capability. He wanted to be able to concentrate on one thing and one thing alone, and dammit, he wanted it to be something fun, not a History Channel special about the government system in Ancient Rome... Not that he didn't enjoy that kind of thing occasionally...

His mother, on the other hand, despised South Park. She found the humor too crude and low-brow for her tastes, even though not every episode was even like that. She bitched every time he put it on the big TV downstairs, forcing him to retreat to the solitude and silence of his room. Of course, his mother bitched about nearly everything, especially lately. Especially when it came to him... Troublesome woman. He knew he was a lazy slacker, he didn't need her to tell him that... Shit, he didn't want to be thinking about this crap. Focus on the show! One of those meaningful moments was coming up.

"No! Wait! You can't listen to him. He's a lying, deceitful monster who only wants Family Guy off the air."

"But he has a gun."

"You can't do what he wants, just because he's the one threatening you with violence."

See. Now who would have thought something so insightful would be hidden inside a cartoon show? And that was one of the more blatant messages, there were a lot more well-hidden ones that Shikamaru loved to sit and pick out. He and Chouji would get together, smoke, and have South Park marathons for hours on end. It was great.

As the Cartoon Wars part II episode came to a close, the ponytailed teen, rolled onto his stomach, lazily flipping through his DVDs, pondering which episode he wanted to watch next. Did he want to go with one of the older episodes? Or maybe something newer... Ah, perfect. The Imaginationland trilogy, always a good choice. Really, who didn't love Butters being the hero and Popeye being raped by Christmas critters?

And that was how he whiled away his evening, smoking a joint by his open window somewhere during the second episode, watching the show he had memorized by heart for what was probably close to the hundredth time. Some people might find it boring or pathetic. It was what Shikamaru liked best.

Eventually, even the Imaginationland trio began to come to an end, just around the time Shikamaru planned on going to sleep. And he had to admit, he loved the end of the Imaginationland episodes. Because while this bit of humor might be crude, it was also, in his high as a kite opinion, damn hilarious.

"And what's Kyle about to do?"

"Cartman, don't."

"Oh, Kyle! What are you doing to my balls? Oh look, it's Kyle sucking my balls!"

A soft chuckle escaped him, despite how many times he had seen this same scene before. It really was very well done.

"Shikamaru!"

The boy in question blinked in surprise as his bedroom door was flung unceremoniously open and his loud, bossy, troublesome mother strode into the room, knocking apparently the last thing on her mind. He sighed, wishing he could just be left in peace and quiet. "Yeah?"

"Oh, look at you go, Kyle! Oh, you dirty girl, you love those balls!"

Instantly, brown eyes narrowed at the small, slightly fuzzy screen. Shikamaru braced for it, knowing it was coming...

"Did Santa Claus just tell a little boy to stop sucking someone's genitals...? Shikamaru Nara, how many times have I told you how disgusting this show is?"

Another sigh. Why was everything always so damn troublesome?

Dattebayo!

The next day, Wednesday, the children found themselves with a brief reprieve, the after school program being canceled due to teacher meetings or something like that. Unsurprisingly, there were no complaints.

Thursday, Gaara found himself sitting in his math class, staring blankly at the blackboard in front of him, waiting for his name to be called. Sarutobi-sensei was returning their tests that day, calling the children up to his desk by alphabetical order and very briefly going over the test with them, pointing out some of their key mistakes and things they might want to work on. As per always when the bearded teacher did this, there were a few students throughout the class who took the time to actually work on something, a few who took the time to catch up on some missed sleep, and the majority who spent the time chatting none too quietly with one another, a few of whom were to the point they would be considered obnoxiously loud. And then, of course, you had Gaara who always just... sat there. Staring.

A giggle, high, loud, and oh so annoying sounded right by his ear for what had to be the tenth time in two minutes. He hated that giggle, and he hated the girl producing the noise poisoning his poor, defenseless ears. Maybe if she had been genuinely laughing at something and simply had an annoying laugh, but that obviously wasn't the case. Girls only giggled like that when really they were thinking 'Look at me, I'm just so hot and awesome,' and he couldn't fucking stand it. Did they really think sounding like that was in anyway even mildly attractive?

It happened again, and with a small growl low in his throat, Gaara turned, shooting a teal glare the girl's way. "You're annoying. Stop it."

The girl (he really should know her name, but who gave a shit?) blinked in surprise, scooting back a little from the scary little redhead and his even scarier look. "We're not bothering you, freak."

Gaara snorted harshly. "You're right, there's no 'we' involved," he agreed, pointedly ignoring the three boys the girl had currently been engaging. "It's just you. Despite what that ridiculous fucking laugh of yours seems to state, you're not that good-looking. Your hair looks like you let a five year old take three different shades of blond dye and go nuts, you have more makeup on then could possibly make anyone look good (and coming from me that's saying something), you could stand to lose some weight, and you insist on wearing clothing that shows off the fact you need to lose weight. Of course, you don't strike me as the brightest crayon in the box, so let me simplify my point for you; no one in the room wants to sleep with you, so shut the fuck up, you stupid, fat bitch."

Silence reigned, and it was true silence, since apparently the whole room had somehow caught Gaara's rant. He wasn't sure how, seeing as how his voice hadn't been any louder than it's usual soft guttural, but after a moment of stunned nothingness, sniggers broke out from all sides, including even from the boys the girl had been trying to entice. At least she had the decency to blush and look embarrassed.

Asuma up at his desk debated saying something, debated sending Gaara to the office, and decided instead to just play dumb and act like he hadn't heard a thing, turning his attention back towards the student he was talking with. Three students later and it was the redhead's turn to come up, which he did so with his familiar scowl in place. Clearing his throat a bit, Asuma pulled his test from the top of the small remaining pile and winced a bit before placing it in small, black-nailed hands. "Not exactly your best work, Gaara, but you still have a C overall for now."

The boy in question glowered down at the stapled packet in his hands, willing it to catch fire and destroy any evidence. A thirty-five percent. That wasn't just a failing grade, that was a special-ed dropout grade. Gaara was well-aware math wasn't exactly his forte, but still... Damn Kankurou and not keeping his damn promises. He had sworn up and down he would help his little brother learn this shit before the test.

Asuma cleared his throat once more before saying lightly, "If you were just having a bad day, I understand, it happens. However, if you really don't understand the material, I want to warn you that those equations are going to be continuously used throughout the year. It's something you really need to understand in order to be able to do algebra."

If Gaara was anyone else he probably would have sighed right about then. Of course the one thing he was completely lost on was deathly important. "I'll have someone show me how to do it."

Asuma studied the boy a moment longer before nodding his consent. "All right, just remember that if you have any questions you can ask me anytime after class or come find me during lunch." He lowered his voice a bit. "Or you could ask me after school, whatever you want," a statement which he immediately realized when said in a conspiratorial tone sounded incredibly creepy.

Gaara grunted a bit, going back to his seat and shoving the atrocious test into his bag without care. It wasn't that he didn't like Sarutobi-sensei, he seemed like a good guy, it was just that adults had a tendency to make him a little apprehensive. He just... hadn't known many good adults when he was younger. He would get someone to teach him the damn algebra, but asking his teacher for help was just a little out of his comfort zone.

If you've never watched South Park you won't fully understand Shikamaru's part (or the chapter title) but you should still get the gist of it.

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