Night 52: Bus Unloading Area

[spandexorgtfo]

[from here]As they stepped outside, Kratos took a deep breath, taking a moment to savor the feeling of fresh air, even though it was still tainted with the silent evil that surrounded the institute. Then, moment finished, he returned to the task at hand

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[buryyourdemons]

Gaara felt his mind split, a familiar sensation not unlike the mindset derived in missions when focus must be kept on many different points. He listened without any response as Shikamaru spoke, knowing his sister would ask any questions that needed asking. To know that only night was a definite was something worth knowing. He had felt weaker during the day, but it didn't occur to him that even this little that he could do now would be further gone with morning's light.

Still, his focus remained on the ground, even as the Konoha-nin ordered them back inside. Molecules shifted beneath him, and gradually the sand he had sent into the earth returned--doubled--to arc around him lazily as the last bit trickled from the ground. His chest rose and fell; again, uncharacteristically drained from the brief effort. And for only that amount. He remained on the ground as he directed the sand back into the cloth, content to follow his sister's lead at the moment.

His eyes were not for them, however. They were directed into the dark, to the faintly darker outline of his own shadow. One couldn't be sure, in this dim, so he told himself. Because while he was crouched, it looked like it was standing. Gaara stood cautiously, and the shade shifted its weight, arms crossed. The Suna-nin's eyes narrowed.

[bothersomewoman]

Everything suddenly seemed to happen at a frantic pace, and Temari was as torn as the other two as she both observed her brother's work and listened to Shikamaru's warnings. The hand pulling insistently on hers of course sparked her temper, the pride that said she only needed her strength and her tactics to win against whatever was coming. But with Gaara there, and with the heavy way he breathed once the sand had been gathered, Temari forced that initial reaction back in favor of seeing the situation objectively.

That's right. Back down, because you know you can't protect him.

The voice came from no discernable place, and Temari moved her eyes quickly to try and find its source. Yet there was nothing but the three, and their shadows that seemed to stretch and grow in ways that only Shikamaru had managed before. Then, Temari looked to Gaara, and the figure standing before him whose presence alone signified that it was too late.

"Do you think it will still work?" Temari had been willing to go along with Shikamaru's plan, still was, if there was hope of it succeeding. But if they'd hesitated too long, then they'd need a new strategy--some way to defend themselves against whatever attacks these shadows would bring.

And you're going to rely on someone else for that too, aren't you?

Temari clenched her jaw tight, once again searching for the source of that voice. Yet even as her eyes darted, searching the darkness, she recognized it as her own. Just what the hell was going on here?

[toobothersome]

"I don't know," Shikamaru said bluntly. No reason to offer them false hope: everyone needed to concentrate on the pragmatics of the situation.

You know it won't work.

Was it the implant? That was the only logical explanation, but it seemed clumsy of Landel. Shikamaru was not an insecure person; if anything, most of his mistakes stemmed from overconfidence.

But when Gaara's shadow began to take shape and he saw Temari glance around in a way that suggested she was looking for something she expected but could not see, he understood that it wasn't the implant. Landel's fingers had dug into their minds and were now puppeting something, some kind of individual torture.

He could only hope that this wasn't going to be a physical fight, especially not with Gaara.

Shikamaru made a quick attempt to direct his chakra at the dark form before the boy, but once again shadow was strange: he could feel the usual shapes, the gradients created by overlapping shadows cast by multiple points of light, but all connection with this creature had been severed. Something of Temari's darkness was pulling away too, and the separation of his own carried with it an emotion he hadn't expected: anger, rather than the previous sense of anxious concentration. That was his. Landel had no right to rip it away.

"No." he said, correcting his first answer. No, none of the plans would work.

Focus. Don't provoke them. Be ready, but don't provoke them. His own duplicate seemed the least threatening of the three: sitting casually, weight on its palms, relaxed. "Maybe if you'd thought of something sooner," it said. Its voice was disinterested but carried a malicious edge, something just subtle enough not to be implausible.

Ignore it.

Shikamaru stepped forward, one hand hovering beside his kunai as he reached out to touch it. His fingers passed through the being's shoulder as if it were empty air. Slightly cold. It had no shadow of its own.

One of those games. Fantastic. And he couldn't be with better people: at his age, Gaara was a total nutjob with more issues than grains of sand in Suna, and Temari was...well, he was sure there was something wrong with her too.

"I think they're supposed to mess with our heads," Shikamaru said. "He likes to do that. I don't think they can physically hurt us."

"Or maybe I just don't feel like it right now," the being said with a shrug.

Another possibility. Shikamaru bit back a curse. Did he ever have an intelligent thought before speaking anymore? If Gaara and Temari's shadow selves had more motivation than his own, they might have a problem.

[buryyourdemons]

Temari questioned and the other shinobi answered in the negative. The shadow in front of him cocked its head, a grin forming on its dull features. There was something disarming in the expression, and something far too familiar. Gaara shifted his gaze to the pair, noting that Shikamaru's had solidified. To mess with their heads.... It was possible. Making duplicates could be alarming to most--however if it was nothing more than a genjutsu, if Shikamaru was correct and they couldn't even touch them, then the harm seemed lessened.

The thought was logical, but even in that, Gaara doubted the truthfulness of it.

There was a low sound past him, something that revealed itself as quiet laughter. “Trying to think things out? Why bother? Weapons aren’t created to think for themselves. A sword isn’t meant to consider its target, is it?“

The only tell was Gaara’s eyes widening. Was it an educated guess, or did the things know exactly what they spoke about? If it was the latter….

“And why remain with the others? Why don’t you kill them? What’s the point in having them around? They’re weak, aren’t they? You know they are. They can serve some purpose if you kill them.“ It moved closer, too near, and he took a step back without thinking. “Then life is wonderful.“

There was something altogether shaking in this. Shadows of a past that were painstakingly being worked through--the general nuances of a belief structure he had lived by for nine years being generalized and thrown back at him in terms he had used. Nothing it said was temptation. Everything it said existed as needles driven under his skin. He felt the absence of his sand then; felt naked without its protection and its power. The cloth dropped open, the thin trickle of sand rose in tandem with his emotions, but the shadow only laughed. “Kill me?“ It wondered, amused. “Or are you so willing to kill yourself? Now you can, you know. The sand won’t stop you here.“

Thought became disallowed. Reactions became unnecessary. How long that would last, however... If it truly knew details, there was more it could call on. And if they couldn't harm the shades, if they were really only shadows.... Gaara backed a step more, eyes locked on the form before him. "We need to leave. Where?" A question in the form of a command, directed at Shikamaru.