ARC 4 IS BACK UP BABY. A BIG NOTE WILL BE POSTED AT THE CONCLUSION OF THIS FIC.
- Fire Starter -
Hunger is such a subjective thing.
For some people, it's a bodily signal you can ignore or appease depending on the day, the week… For others, it is the deft hand that grips your mind like a marionette, twitching its fingers and watching you dance for its sinister amusement.
Everyone thinks they know hungers needle like teeth gnawing at the lining of their gut, or the gnashing of its little mouths demanding to be fed. Hunger is the monster you only think you can tame, until it slowly starts to eat you alive from within.
Experience is subjective, truth is absolute. Like all inner demons, hunger is a monster that must be fed before it feeds on you. And people can be hungry for lots of things…
Food. Company. Power.
Revenge…
Either way, all hungers eventually become the same twisted thing- a poisonous anger that strikes at the primal part of you, provoking your adrenaline like an cannibal in a cage. Hunger left unabated can make you do terrible things. Terrible, painful, delicious things.
And now that we are free of our cell, we are so very, very hungry.
Maybe it's the smell of cooking food that draws us out from the cover of the tree line. We step from the forest of long dead branches and move towards the growing crowd. We observe while staying unobserved. Everyone has their backs turned, too busy finishing up the half day's work. They chop at lumber and chatter on.
They play with their children in the courtyard.
The lumber mill is old and not well built. There is a rolling barn door on reenforced hinges that looks unweathered; newly replaced. The door is oversized enough to let workers haul in even the largest of trees.
A woman in the corner tags different trunks for processing. We can smell the chakra on her from here.
A plan begins to form in our mind as mill workers continue about their tasks. They are still unaware that we are watching them. It's no matter… they will see us soon enough.
We move around to the back of the building. The hem of our cloak drags along the carpet of dead leaves. Tucked under the eaves of a sloped shed room, we find a single child hiding apart from their peers. The other kids are playing with sticks out front, but this one eats from a steaming bowl.
He blows on a spoonful of congee, little pieces of chicken floating among the rice. It's the kind of meal a loving mother might make to celebrate the holiday.
One of our demons wants to explore. They serpentine forward from the shadows of our cloak, flicking their little tongues out to lap at his chakra. They writhe like snakes, tasting the air.
Hungry. They whisper. Feed.
But we are still weak from our last fight, and this child is not enough to satiate us. If we feed on him now, he will scream. The others will scatter like rabbits to their warrens. We need people to come running towards us, not away…
Patience. We command. Soon.
The demons curls back beneath our cloak. They are hungry, but remain obedient. For now.
Finally, the little boy spots us. Startled, he stands up in alarmed. We purse our lips. Soft as a lullaby, we weave a genjutsu- Something small and soothing. A familiar presence.
The boy's face is confused at first, but then his fear softens to recognition. "Big brother, there you are. Are you hungry?" He asks. "Momma left you plenty of food."
"Starving." We reply, eyeing him.
The child cocks his head at our voice. His little rabbit heart is telling him to run. He knows something is wrong, even if he doesn't know what. He takes a small step back, unsure…
But we purse our lips again. We sing our genjutsu into his mind. His eyes go soft, unfocused. Forgetting. Children always obey too late the fear that they should heed right away.
"…I'll go make you a plate, big brother." He say, backing up dreamily.
"That's okay. I can get it myself. Why don't you go explore the festival, I'm sure Papa is waiting for you."
"…Okay. "
Our spell washes over him, manipulating what he can see and can not.
On trembling newborn legs, he passes through the barn door, believing he has wandered into the Hadakambo parade. His eyes gloss over the factory equipment, seeing stalls full of fried food and games instead.
He dodges workers that mill about their work, believing he is avoiding fellow parade goers. In our genjutsu, his father hands him a roman candle- a special firework for him to light from the safety of an open field.
To any onlooker who takes note of the boys presence, his cherub cheeked smile is no different than usual. He moves to the back of the factory, unimpeded. In his mind, he wanders to a hilltop. He is well beyond the parade now, it's safe to set his firework alight. With a delighted laugh, he runs to watch it explode into a shower of sparks.
But inside the building is a different story. The child wanders over to the mountains of wood shavings pressed against the wall like an evergreen snowbank. He bends down to light an imaginary firework, not seeing when wood chips catch fire beneath his hands. At once, the old factory is ablaze, sputtering and igniting into a winter bonfire.
Still in the throws of our wicked spell, the child dashes away to dodge the firework sparks. He doesn't smell the first curls of smoke as they rise.
He does not hear the screams around him as the flames consume his home in earnest. The windows belch soot like the gaping mouths of chain smokers, pouring inky smog into the air. He does not see a mob of mill workers searching for water buckets to contain the burn.
While everyone is panicking and running towards the fire, he meanders calmly to the great barn door. The adults are too busy fighting back the fire to notice what he's about to do.
He rolls the barn door shut, all on his own. It glides lightly on those perfect, newly replaced hinges. His little fingers padlock the chains in place just as the door begins to rattle in his palms.
"Mako! Let us out!" The voices cry.
But in his mind, he only sees an untended farm pasture full of hungry animals trying to escape. The panicked screams of the people trapped inside are only the yawl of goats hungry for feed and attention. Their cries grow louder as the blaze burns brighter. Over head, the sky is a conversation of smoke signals, messages from the soon to be dead.
Now more will come.
Yes.
People always come running towards a fire. Some people come to give selfless aid while others just come to witness the misfortunes of other. Either way, more always come.
Our demons chitter hungrily beneath our cloak. Finally, we set them free to feast. This crowd will do…for now. A collection of civilians with moderate chakra they will no longer need once we are done.
Our beasts dissolve into rivers of smoke, feeding on chakra from person to person. Their slick black steam bodies are nearly indistinguishable from the inky soot filling the skies.
Hungry, they snarl. Starving.
More, We coo. More will come.
We looking off into the bright winter distance.
They always come.
More food.
- Apples -
Shikamaru unspools a thread of shadow around the apple in his palm. With just the right touch, he slices the fruit clean in two. A bead of juice runs down his wrist, which is annoying, but at least he finally has food. He stuffs an apple half into his mouth, wiping the juice onto the leg of his uniform.
He goes to set the rest of his sad lunch aside, but not before more juice stains his requisition form. He's almost finished filling it out… The still wet ink smears against the heel of his palm, ruining the page entirely.
Great. Now he would have to redo his report.
"Give it back, Kiwa."
"It's mine, you gave it to me."
"I lent it to you. Temporarily. "
"Fine, you can have it back. The Kunai I got from Sakura is way better anyway."
Shikamaru crumbles up his ruined requisition form, tossing the ball to the waste basket beside Hitoshi's desk. Instead of going in, it bounces once off the rim, rolling across a familiar rug. Too lazy to pick up the escaped paper, he sends a tendril of shadow to flick it under a file cabinet. He's too tired for unnecessary movement.
Meanwhile, his convoy team continues to bicker, killing time in the hallway outside his borrowed office.
"You know, that girl totally spoiled you in Suna and I'll never forgive her for it. Now you keep insisting we stay in fancy hotels. I miss camping under the stars…"
"But they have tiny soap, Ruya-"
"They have shitty soap. It totally dries out my skin."
"Speaking of which, you both owe me $60. I'm tired of always footing the room bill these days."
"But you're our superior, Utsuho. Isn't that your job?"
Shikamaru runs a hand through his hair in frustration, failing to concentrate on his paperwork. Hitoshi had been stuck in meetings all morning, leaving Shikamaru and his team to occupy themselves. They've been waiting for several hours already, the time of their appointment long since passed. Still there seemed to be no end in sight.
"I have to side with Ruya on this one, Captain. Don't you get paid like, twice as much as we do?"
"Because I have twice the responsibilities and handle all the paperwork."
"I don't know, sounds like the patriarchy at work to me."
"You don't even know what that word means, Kiwa."
"YoU dOnt evEn knoW wHat thAt wOrd mEans, Kiwa-"
Shikamaru sinks his forehead to the desk with a thud. The involuntary twitch in the corner of his eye is back.
"Can you guys just keep it down out there?" He yells. His voice carries farther than he means it to, ringing down the hallways of Hitoshi's castle. Was this how Tsunade felt with people always bickering in her office? No wonder the woman drank.
Out in the hallway, there is the smallest beat of silence where everyone seems too afraid to move. That is, until Kiwa's tall shadow bends towards Ruya's.
"I told you he was cranky today." She stage whispers. "Five dollars says he's missing Sakura again."
"The poor guy hasn't been home in months, and now he's only three hours from Konoha. Of course he's missing Sakura."
"You two should really mind your business." Utsuho's hushed voice is a low grumble that cuts through his teammate's chatter.
In response, Kiwa gives a petulant snort. "Shikamaru is our permanent ward now. His business is our business. Literally."
"I can literally still hear you." Shikamaru growls out. This was pointless.
He stands up from Hitoshi's desk, giving up on the pretense of getting any real work done. With a sigh, he leaves the ornate corner office to sit in the hallway with his team. Maybe he could work on perfecting his new flash bombs? He's getting really close to nailing the time release phosphorus formula. Or he could go off in search of some actual food…
But Hitoshi's kitchen wing is too far away, and he'd hate to accidentally set Hitoshi's compound on fire. So, rather than exerting energy he doesn't have, Shikamaru takes the open chair between Kiwa and Utsuho, resting his head against the wall. He'll just try for a nap instead.
"Another long night?" Kiwa asks, ignoring his closed eyelids. This is usually his signal he wants to be left alone to brood.
"Same as all the others." He answers, groggily. He blindly passes Kiwa the other half of his apple, hoping it will keep her occupied for a bit.
The mud user humbly accepts his offering, blessing him with a few moments of uninterrupted peace and quiet. She fills the hallway with the happy crunching of apple that doesn't belong to her.
Truthfully, his inability to focus today had little to do with his chatty companions. As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he is…distracted.
News had reached him that Naruto was back in Konoha, not just for a visit, but for good. He'd been gone for over five years training with Jiraiya. Now, the remaining members of team 7 were all reunited. Back in action and better than ever.
He was happy for Sakura. Really.
But he could also admit he was…something. Curious? Jealous? Worried? All of the above? Whatever he felt, it would just have to wait for him to overanalyze later. He just didn't have the bandwidth for deep internal reflections. Not after the string of long nights he's had lately.
Thoughts of Sakura aside, he was running on six hours of sleep over the last three days. The usually sharp bevel of his analytical mind has been dulled to the baby safe edge of a butter knife by his determination to make his upcoming deadline.
Against all odds, his new job wasn't actually terrible. It was only the extent to which he was pushing himself now that made the work unsustainable. His position as Chief Operations Officer had actually been surprisingly suited to his skill set. (Not that he would ever admit that to Tsunade.)
He could effortlessly keep track of large numbers in his head, or remember supply delivery dates without having to write them down. Any time problems arose from miscommunications, he could quickly get people back on the same page. He was almost successful because he was lazy. He had a knack for figuring out the simplest solutions to complicated problems.
Yes, the hours sucked and all the travel was wearing on him… but having great responsibility thrust upon his shoulders hadn't been the prison sentence he'd thought it would be.
Some days, he even liked the challenge…But he was definitely not gonna do this job for the rest of his life, no matter how much money Hitoshi tried to bribe him with.
The biggest positive to come out of this whole experience was, surprisingly, his convoy team. Over the last two months they had all become, if not a family, then rather good friends.
Given the extensive traveling Shikamaru's new job required, he'd been allowed to hand select his convoy team. After his previous experience with Team Utsuho, they'd been a natural fit for the position- in the sense that Shikamaru hated change almost as much as reading resumes.
His inherent laziness had worked in his favor though. Team Utsuho might never replace Ino and Choji, but he could have done much, much worse.
Utsuho was a fantastic sparing partner on the rare occasion Shikamaru wasn't chained to his desk. Kiwa had taken Sakura's place as the person to send his food back when something wasn't right. Ruya, high maintenance as he'd first appeared, turned out to be the most sane member of the commuter trio.
He and Ruya often spent long travel hours debating political structures and economic theory. Kiwa and Utsuho usually stared on with blank expressions when they got into a mode. He was even teaching Ruya how to play chess in their down time. Or rather, what little down time Shikamaru had. And of the three of them, Ruya always seemed to know when Shikamaru was energetic or in a mood.
Like today. Today he was in a mood.
It was the kind of day where thoughts of Sakura lingered in his brain, uninvited. The kind of day where he considered giving his team the slip and making a bee-line for Konoha. Eyes closed, he wonders absently if she's on shift at the hospital or at home tucked in bed.
His traitorous mind briefly wonders who might be in bed with her before he squashes those thoughts down completely.
'Come one, you're better than this.' He scolds himself.
But Sakura had this dogged energy about her that Shikamaru was just beginning to find in himself. Much like her physical strength, she took perseverance to a whole new level. When they had first started spending time together, he'd admired how she never gave up on her goals until they were accomplished. Tsunade would say jump and she would say how high. Shikamaru hadn't been able to relate at the time.
"Why do you have such a hard on for authority?"
"Why do you have such a problem with it?!"
They'd had so much fun picking on each other, back then. But that had only been the beginning of her unrelenting ways. When Sakura wanted something, or someone, she stuck to her goals like a blood hound.
Knowing Sakura the way he did…it was only a matter of time before he got news that she'd finally won over Kakashi in the end. He would just have to be okay with that outcome if and when the time arrived.
Either way, there was no use ruminating over who his best friend wanted to be with. For now, he just needed to focus on completing his deal with Hitoshi. Three more weeks of maximum effort, and his true plans would finally be in motion. Three more weeks and finally he could-
The paper screen to Shikamaru's left slides open. Hitoshi makes his way over to them, regal in an embroidered set of ruby robes.
"Sorry to keep you waiting." Hitoshi says, "But unfortunately I'll need you to wait a little longer. I'm dealing with a bit of a situation, and I don't think this will be resolved anytime soon."
Shikamaru and his team all stand to attention, but Hitoshi waves off their formal bows. "No no, none of that please."
"What seems to be the problem? Anything we can help with?" Shikamaru asks. His eyeballs are still aching from reading so much fine print last night. He's dying for the chance to do something besides paperwork.
Hitoshi pauses, eyeing them in consideration. "Not unless you feel like investigating a disturbance report out at one of our lumber mills. We are short staffed today because of the festival, otherwise I wouldn't ask. I know it's not your job, but I don't want any delays in getting that subsidy lumber out to Rain."
Shikamaru looks over to where Utsuho still holds himself in a perfect military rest. "Captain? What say you?" Because while Shikamaru technically outranks them all, Utsuho is still Team leader.
Utsuho considers the request. "As long as we are back by dark, I don't see a problem with it. We won't be crossing any borders so the risk of an attack is relatively low."
Shikamaru nods, grateful for the excuse to get some exercise. Maybe a run will help clear his head. "Let's do it then." He says.
"I owe you one." Hitoshi says. He shakes each of their hands diplomatically. He gives Utsuho directions to a lumber mill due east of the castle. With their captain setting the pace, it should only be a three hour run there and back.
As they call their goodbyes, Shikamaru loads up his daypack. He grabs a few more apples from a decorative bowl in the reception hall. Despite Utsuho's comment about the low chances of an attack, he slips his new knuckle knives into the holster at his low back - a going away present from Asuma.
When they depart from the castle compound, Shikamaru groans at Utsuho's brutal pace. Not even a warm up jog before they start sprinting?
Despite two months of running from satellite camp to satellite camp, he's only just now growing accustomed to Utsuho's unrelenting speed. Still, anything is better than paperwork. After all, what else were they going to do all day. Sit around the palace and wait?
Soon the castle is far behind them. They eat up the miles stretching on ahead. His breath puffs cotton white into the chilly fall air.
Gradually, his head begins to clear.