[Mad Tiger] Chapter 67

It turned out Gaara barely slept. Or, more accurately, used to barely sleep. And this was exactly where my patented “neko-therapy,” first successfully field-tested on Sasuke, came in real handy.

Funny enough, my new red-haired buddy reminded me of the Sandman from one of those Western fairy tale books my mom used to read me as a kid. The Sandman would sprinkle magical sand into children’s eyes to help them sleep—and depending on the story, he could bring either sweet dreams or straight-up nightmares.

As a child, I always figured the Sandman himself never got any sleep. I mean, the world’s round, right? Time zones, kids constantly going to bed somewhere… The guy must be on the clock 24/7. My mom would chuckle at my theories and say maybe he only handled Europe, and managed to sneak in a nap now and then. Still, even with that, the guy didn’t seem like he was getting eight hours. And let’s be real, those gritty crusties in the corner of your eyes in the morning? Obvious Sandman residue. Science.

So yeah, I figured Gaara’s constant stress and hair-trigger temper were tied to one thing: sleep deprivation. Like, I’m a sweet little fluffball, but if I don’t get my full nap cycle, even I turn into a menace. Now imagine never sleeping? No wonder the guy was borderline homicidal.

After our late lunch—which naturally turned into dinner—I chose to spend the night with Gaara. Apparently, this was a regular thing with him: sitting curled up with his face on his knees, not sleeping. His sister Temari and Batman (a.k.a. his edgy eyelinered brother) were visibly on edge and also not getting any rest, which only made Gaara more irritated.

After about five hours of this nonsense, I’d had enough. I asked to go outside—politely but insistently—and Gaara followed me. We made our way to that same little hidey-hole where Naruto and I had taken shelter from the kitchen staff. I let out a huge yawn and made it very clear: it was bedtime. I even asked for uppies.

Gaara, to his credit, picked up on the hint pretty quickly. He really was trainable.

And then came the surprise: the dude sleeps in a sand cocoon. Like, fully encased himself in this compact little sand sphere, like some kind of ninja Pokemon egg. The gourd on his back? Yeah, that whole thing turned into a shell.

I took charge immediately. Crawled up on his scrawny chest, curled my tail around his knees, and if he dared open an eye, I smacked it shut with a paw. It worked. He closed his eyes. I purred like a space heater and stayed warm and heavy. Eventually, his breathing evened out and—get this—he actually fell asleep.

Honestly, what a tragic case. I remembered from the anime how people used to try to assassinate him all the time. No wonder he was always on edge.

He slept for fourteen hours straight. Fourteen. I didn’t wake him, even when I got hungry. But eventually… I really had to pee. And let’s be real, I wasn’t about to soil the man’s chakra-infused sand blanket.

Amazingly, the cocoon actually opened up a little hole for me—like it knew I needed to leave. Whether that was Gaara doing it in his sleep or the sand being semi-sentient, I still don’t know. I did my business, stole a quick snack from Naruto’s stash, and came back to find the cocoon opening again, like some high-tech spaceship.

Gaara was awake when I returned, and—shockingly—I could actually read some emotion on his face. He was happy to see me. We dropped by to visit Naruto and the crew again, I let them do the socializing while I recharged and snagged some snacks.

Sasuke gave me a few solid ear scritches and, with a hint of jealousy, asked, “So who you sleeping with tonight?”

I lifted a paw and pointed at Gaara.

Sasuke raised an eyebrow but just muttered, “Guess he needs it more,” and didn’t push it. Sakura poked her nose in too, and Sasuke reluctantly admitted that this amazing cat—okay, he just said “Tora,” but we all felt the subtext—helped him when things were rough, kept the nightmares away.

Obviously, I puffed out my chest and strutted around like I owned the place, tail high and full of pride.

That night, the gang went to the kitchen and got more food. Apparently, by the time Kakashi finally showed up, he told the kitchen staff that I was just a regular ol’ cat who belonged to his team. Somewhere along the way, it also came out that the cooks had been skimming rations from both the kids and the examiners. There were different people in the kitchen now. I got a fresh, no-questions-asked slab of raw meat. Gaara got his share too.

Around eleven, we went back to our sand nest and passed out until morning. I, fully rested, took the opportunity to mess around: popping in and out of the shell, crawling on top of Gaara, booping his face, doing little meditative stretches on his ribcage.

Turns out, even the so-called Sand Demon is just a sleepy kid who doesn’t wanna get out of bed. Cute.

“Holy crap!” Kiba blurted as Gaara and I casually opened the door to Naruto, Sasuke, and Sakura’s room—like it was our morning routine now.

The room was packed: Kiba, Hinata, Neji, Ino, Shikamaru, Choji, and A very concerned Akamaru. Full squad.

Gaara froze. Honestly, so did I. His sand, laced with chakra and this weird scent, always threw off my nose, so I didn’t realize how many people were in there until the door swung open. Not ideal.

“That’s HIM!” Kiba shouted, practically jabbing a finger at Gaara.

Tension instantly spiked.

Gaara tensed. I tensed. Akamaru whimpered. Hinata looked like she might faint. Everyone else, except Naruto and Sasuke, were on high alert.

The pause was so heavy, you could slice it with a kunai.

So I did the only thing a brave, loyal cat could do.

I screamed.

The attention turned to me instantly.

“NAMAIKI-TORA-SAN?!” half the room shouted at once.

I shoved my head against Gaara and meowed pitifully to be picked up. Like, come on, buddy, this is your cue.

Gaara knelt down, never breaking eye contact with the mob, and scooped me into his arms. The vibe in the room shifted from “oh no, bloodbath incoming” to “...what the hell is happening right now.”

I locked eyes with Naruto, who finally snapped out of it.

“Gaara! Hey! Glad you came by,” he said quickly. “Everyone, this is… uh… these are my friends!” He started naming everyone at light speed.

Gaara, still holding me, glanced around and then asked, dead serious:

“Why does everyone here have cat paw prints on their clothes?”

Oh, perfect. I reached out and laid a paw meaningfully on his shoulder, fanning out my toe beans.

“Because they’re my kids!” I declared.

Ino snorted. Then she giggled. Then everyone started laughing. Nervous laughter at first, but it did the job.

“I don’t have paw print clothes,” Sakura grumbled. “Wait—hang on! That’s the same cat that was with you in the Academy, isn’t it?!”

That set off a wave of chaotic laughter, some of it clearly just people releasing tension. I huffed and flopped dramatically, covering my eyes with a paw. That only made them laugh harder.

Better laughter than hostility, though.

Naruto finally explained, once everyone calmed down:

“It all started with my outfit,” he said cheerfully. “Namakai-Tora-san decided I wasn’t fashionable enough and gave me a little... upgrade.”

Turns out, when you live with a cat, your curtains, your clothes, your bedding—and apparently your squad uniforms—all eventually come with paw prints. It's the law.

“Yeah, totally,” Sakura confirmed. “I noticed that too. All the cats had those weird little 'markings' on their clothes…”

“Wait—don’t tell me you guys actually went to the legendary Nekomata Castle?!” Ino gasped, eyes lighting up like Christmas. “No way! I’ve only ever heard bedtime stories about it from my dad when I was little!”

Everyone sat down in a loose circle, and it was like they suddenly forgot all about Gaara—no one was watching him or me anymore. They were way too busy listening to Naruto and Sakura excitedly trip over each other while retelling that mission. Naturally, neither of them mentioned Itachi or Shisui, but they made it sound like one hell of an adventure.

“Hey, Akamaru,” I called out to the nervous pup, who was trying to look smaller than he was. “What’s the deal with Gaara, anyway?”

“We saw him in the Forest of Death,” Akamaru explained quietly. “Three older ninja ambushed his team. And Gaara… he killed them. Crushed them with sand. And he’s got so much chakra. It’s scary—like, really scary. Kiba was freaked out. He kept checking to see if their team made it to the tower and warned everyone to steer clear.”

“Yeah, figures,” I muttered, stretching out across Gaara’s lap in the universal feline sign for ‘you are now required to pet me.’ “But you feel anything now?”

Akamaru sniffed the air and cautiously padded over to the hand that was scratching my belly.

“Not much. I can still smell a little of that weird chakra,” he said. “But it’s faint. Like the anger’s gone. The gourd still smells like blood and death, though…”

I bopped him on the nose with my paw.

“Then stop sniffing it, genius. He’s my friend. Same as Naruto. He’s one of the jinchuriki. You don’t sniff Naruto like that, do you? Same rules. Pass it on.”

Another hush fell over the room. I could feel every pair of eyes turning toward us.

Akamaru scampered back to Kiba and started whining something in a very specific tone that basically translated to “uhhh bro, this might be important.”

“Akamaru says Gaara’s like Naruto—a jinchuriki,” Kiba reported. “Tora-san says Gaara’s his friend.”

Naruto’s jaw just about hit the floor.

“You mean… you’re like me? You’re a jinchuriki too?!”

Just when I thought things were finally settling down, Gaara went full drama queen. Sand tendrils burst from his gourd, writhing and twisting around him in a not-at-all-friendly way. Everyone else instantly bunched up in the far corner. The boys moved in front of the girls like they were expecting a sand-based apocalypse.

“You?! You can’t be like me!” Gaara yelled, his voice breaking. He hugged me tighter, not even realizing it. “You have friends! People love you! You’re connected to others! You’re weak! I exist to kill! I am a monster!”

And because I am me, I smacked him right in the face. Full chakra-enhanced paw to the cheek.

Gaara flinched. The sand dropped limply to the floor. He let go of me and collapsed into his usual pose—curled up, face buried in his knees.

“Uh… maybe we should, y’know… give them some space?” Shikamaru offered, coughing politely. “Sasuke, Sakura, wanna come see where our rooms are? I think Naruto and Gaara need to talk. Let’s go.”

One by one, everyone filed out, tossing Naruto supportive little glances like, you got this, bro. Honestly, it made my furry little heart swell. These kids? They really got it. Last to leave was Sasuke, who gave me a knowing look and the tiniest smile.

Naruto hesitated, then sat down next to Gaara, stretching his legs out. I flopped into his lap like a comforting, purring anxiety blanket.

This talk’s gonna be rough. Still, better than summoning tailed beasts in the middle of Konoha, right?

…Right?

God, I hate suspense.