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31_days2005-12-01 11:14 pm
swollenfoot.livejournal.com) wrote in 31_days2005-12-01 11:14 pm
[December 1] [Naruto] Waking
Title: Waking
Day / Theme: December 1 / E come vivo?
Series: Naruto
Character: Gaara
Rating: G
In the familiar arid nothingness of the desert, he had opened his eyes to an interesting tableau; to the same, he had gradually, only half-willingly, withdrawn his consciousness from, had let darkness come down upon softly, like velvet curtains of ebon shade gently falling to close the first act. Eight hours later, he awoke to realize he had been asleep—a sleep that was deep and natural and totally devoid of dreams. It was strange and refreshing. He could have soaked in that carefree world that straddled life and death for all eternity, could have floated away blissfully (and since when had he been acquainted with the such a word?) in that incorporeal river of oblivion. But he was anchored to life and to certain responsibilities; amazingly, the anchor was no shackle, was a connection he had willingly preserved.
(Somewhere in his mind, as he reoriented himself to the world after his eight-hour nap, he recognized that he was glad he had held on. They had sought him on their own, his people, and that was enough hold for him to keep on to staying.)
It was very early morning. The stars were paling in the sky, but the sun’s approach was still some hours away. Some of his Sand nins were busy dismantling the camp they had set up the afternoon before. Others lingered before the dying embers of the bonfire, taking the remnants of the heat into their clothes and their outstretched palms, talking solemnly with ninjas from the Leaf. The desert was always cold at this hour.
Gaara sat alone in an outcropping, a ways from the efficient bustle of his elite warriors. If there had been some colossal change in his body after the Akatsuki’s extraction of the demon-beast, he could not feel it yet. But with cold logic, he assured himself he would as the days passed. It was gone, from inside him, gone. For the first time, he was alone in his body.
Did he miss the intrusion that had been there?
Intrusion; the usage of such a term was questionable in the first place. Others would say that the removal of the one-tail should be a relief. But then, he had always lived, shared a body with the one-tail. Wouldn’t the lack thereof of the said intruder be in itself an intrusion on his equilibrium?
For now, he could sense nothing, could feel nothing, be it grief or relief. Gaara did not sit alone to muse with his thoughts or attempt to divulge the secrets of his subconscious. He came because the cool wind blasted the outcropping full force and because it was quiet there.
“I should have known they’d spike the tea.”
The heavy panting of the speaker garbled most of the plaintive remark. Gaara didn’t bother to look at the genin to see the exhaustion in the boy’s eyes. The Sand’s method in training had never been touchy-feely and wholesome—neither were their practical jokes.
“I’ve never been that drunk in my life,” continued the speaker. “Not that I’ve ever been drunk, anyway. Still, I should have retained enough wits to notice that my sleeping bag had been lined with Kabibe cacti.”
A venomous plant that affected control of fine motor movements. The antidote was basic, something any Sand genin was capable of concocting. However—
“Today, I learned something very important,” the drunken babbling went on. “Never, ever, ever take Kabibe cacti antidote under the influence of alcohol. You are going to end up really, really messed up. I can’t even walk properly. When I try to run, I somehow end up kicking my nose. Who knew that was possible?"
Gaara was about to move to another place. There was no worry about the genin tagging along to insist on keeping him company. He’d be too busy trying to figure out which foot was which.
“But the fact that I’m here’s even more impossible. Isn’t it cool for us to be here? I mean, genins like us, represented in retrieval operation of our Kazekage-sama. Really, it would be an honor I’d remember for the rest of my life. Totally awesome.”
The Kazekage glanced at the speaker then, but the boy’s wide eyes were directed to the sandy floor.
“Uh-oh...” he said uncertainly. “There’s a lizard trapped under my foot.”
Yes, Gaara had seen when he turned his head slightly to look at the genin. It was a small animal, with a body probably as big as a grown man’s open palm. And yes, it was trapped under the child’s foot.
“Er... I can’t bend my knee.” The boy’s voice took on a helpless note. “Can you help me lift it up?”
Wordlessly, Gaara did as was requested of him. But the animal had streaked away even before the sandaled foot was raised from the ground, a blur that the Sand leader easily noted. All that was left was the fat tail of the animal, wriggling erratically on the sand as it died, abandoned.
The genin blinked at it. “That’s disgusting,” he remarked slowly. “I remember from school. Those lizards leave their tails behind when they get in trouble like that. Like when something catches them by the tail; you know what I’m saying? But it’s still disgusting.”
“It was a matter of survival,” Gaara said simply.
“Yeah,” the younger boy agreed sagely. “But don’t we do disgusting things for survival, anyway?” His expression became thoughtful. “I am sorry, though. Somewhere out there, there’s a tail-less lizard, all because some clumsy genin was stupid enough to drink the spiked tea his sensei offered him. I bet it would be lonely without his tail. I mean, that was his tail since he was born, right? You’d miss your tail, too, wouldn’t you? ”
“Maybe.”
“But we can’t fully appreciate the gravity of the lizard’s situation. We humans don’t have tails. So it’s not important to us. We wouldn’t know how it’d be like for a lizard to leave it’s tail behind.” The boy was shaking his head sorrowfully. “Poor lizard. I hope it’s all right.”
There was a brief silence. Gaara pushed himself from the rock and started to walk away.
“I hope Kazekage-sama’s all right, too.”
Gaara went on walking, then paused after a few steps. “Don’t fret,” he said, a flat voice that was accustomed to commanding and being followed.
“Huh?” The genin blinked owlishly. “Fret? About Kazekage-sama? But he’s Kazekage-sama. Of course, I’d fret if he’s not all right.”
“Your lizard’s tail,” Gaara said, turning back slightly. “It’ll grow back.”
The boy’s face cleared up. “That makes me feel better, I guess,” he said, struggling through the haze of alcohol, the venom, and the antidote warring in his bloodstream. “That makes them luckier than us, right?”
“Maybe.”
He stayed a few more quieter minutes (the genin had fallen asleep and was lightly snoring), then Gaara walked back to the camp. His elder siblings beckoned to him from the circle of faces around the smoking carcass of the campfire. The silver glint of their arm guards were beacons in the dingy darkness, but gradually became even less necessary as light increased.
It was dawn.
~22:39
Day / Theme: December 1 / E come vivo?
Series: Naruto
Character: Gaara
Rating: G
In the familiar arid nothingness of the desert, he had opened his eyes to an interesting tableau; to the same, he had gradually, only half-willingly, withdrawn his consciousness from, had let darkness come down upon softly, like velvet curtains of ebon shade gently falling to close the first act. Eight hours later, he awoke to realize he had been asleep—a sleep that was deep and natural and totally devoid of dreams. It was strange and refreshing. He could have soaked in that carefree world that straddled life and death for all eternity, could have floated away blissfully (and since when had he been acquainted with the such a word?) in that incorporeal river of oblivion. But he was anchored to life and to certain responsibilities; amazingly, the anchor was no shackle, was a connection he had willingly preserved.
(Somewhere in his mind, as he reoriented himself to the world after his eight-hour nap, he recognized that he was glad he had held on. They had sought him on their own, his people, and that was enough hold for him to keep on to staying.)
It was very early morning. The stars were paling in the sky, but the sun’s approach was still some hours away. Some of his Sand nins were busy dismantling the camp they had set up the afternoon before. Others lingered before the dying embers of the bonfire, taking the remnants of the heat into their clothes and their outstretched palms, talking solemnly with ninjas from the Leaf. The desert was always cold at this hour.
Gaara sat alone in an outcropping, a ways from the efficient bustle of his elite warriors. If there had been some colossal change in his body after the Akatsuki’s extraction of the demon-beast, he could not feel it yet. But with cold logic, he assured himself he would as the days passed. It was gone, from inside him, gone. For the first time, he was alone in his body.
Did he miss the intrusion that had been there?
Intrusion; the usage of such a term was questionable in the first place. Others would say that the removal of the one-tail should be a relief. But then, he had always lived, shared a body with the one-tail. Wouldn’t the lack thereof of the said intruder be in itself an intrusion on his equilibrium?
For now, he could sense nothing, could feel nothing, be it grief or relief. Gaara did not sit alone to muse with his thoughts or attempt to divulge the secrets of his subconscious. He came because the cool wind blasted the outcropping full force and because it was quiet there.
“I should have known they’d spike the tea.”
The heavy panting of the speaker garbled most of the plaintive remark. Gaara didn’t bother to look at the genin to see the exhaustion in the boy’s eyes. The Sand’s method in training had never been touchy-feely and wholesome—neither were their practical jokes.
“I’ve never been that drunk in my life,” continued the speaker. “Not that I’ve ever been drunk, anyway. Still, I should have retained enough wits to notice that my sleeping bag had been lined with Kabibe cacti.”
A venomous plant that affected control of fine motor movements. The antidote was basic, something any Sand genin was capable of concocting. However—
“Today, I learned something very important,” the drunken babbling went on. “Never, ever, ever take Kabibe cacti antidote under the influence of alcohol. You are going to end up really, really messed up. I can’t even walk properly. When I try to run, I somehow end up kicking my nose. Who knew that was possible?"
Gaara was about to move to another place. There was no worry about the genin tagging along to insist on keeping him company. He’d be too busy trying to figure out which foot was which.
“But the fact that I’m here’s even more impossible. Isn’t it cool for us to be here? I mean, genins like us, represented in retrieval operation of our Kazekage-sama. Really, it would be an honor I’d remember for the rest of my life. Totally awesome.”
The Kazekage glanced at the speaker then, but the boy’s wide eyes were directed to the sandy floor.
“Uh-oh...” he said uncertainly. “There’s a lizard trapped under my foot.”
Yes, Gaara had seen when he turned his head slightly to look at the genin. It was a small animal, with a body probably as big as a grown man’s open palm. And yes, it was trapped under the child’s foot.
“Er... I can’t bend my knee.” The boy’s voice took on a helpless note. “Can you help me lift it up?”
Wordlessly, Gaara did as was requested of him. But the animal had streaked away even before the sandaled foot was raised from the ground, a blur that the Sand leader easily noted. All that was left was the fat tail of the animal, wriggling erratically on the sand as it died, abandoned.
The genin blinked at it. “That’s disgusting,” he remarked slowly. “I remember from school. Those lizards leave their tails behind when they get in trouble like that. Like when something catches them by the tail; you know what I’m saying? But it’s still disgusting.”
“It was a matter of survival,” Gaara said simply.
“Yeah,” the younger boy agreed sagely. “But don’t we do disgusting things for survival, anyway?” His expression became thoughtful. “I am sorry, though. Somewhere out there, there’s a tail-less lizard, all because some clumsy genin was stupid enough to drink the spiked tea his sensei offered him. I bet it would be lonely without his tail. I mean, that was his tail since he was born, right? You’d miss your tail, too, wouldn’t you? ”
“Maybe.”
“But we can’t fully appreciate the gravity of the lizard’s situation. We humans don’t have tails. So it’s not important to us. We wouldn’t know how it’d be like for a lizard to leave it’s tail behind.” The boy was shaking his head sorrowfully. “Poor lizard. I hope it’s all right.”
There was a brief silence. Gaara pushed himself from the rock and started to walk away.
“I hope Kazekage-sama’s all right, too.”
Gaara went on walking, then paused after a few steps. “Don’t fret,” he said, a flat voice that was accustomed to commanding and being followed.
“Huh?” The genin blinked owlishly. “Fret? About Kazekage-sama? But he’s Kazekage-sama. Of course, I’d fret if he’s not all right.”
“Your lizard’s tail,” Gaara said, turning back slightly. “It’ll grow back.”
The boy’s face cleared up. “That makes me feel better, I guess,” he said, struggling through the haze of alcohol, the venom, and the antidote warring in his bloodstream. “That makes them luckier than us, right?”
“Maybe.”
He stayed a few more quieter minutes (the genin had fallen asleep and was lightly snoring), then Gaara walked back to the camp. His elder siblings beckoned to him from the circle of faces around the smoking carcass of the campfire. The silver glint of their arm guards were beacons in the dingy darkness, but gradually became even less necessary as light increased.
It was dawn.
~22:39