AN: So. Gaara-is-Skull AU. Because clearly my brain goes on odd tangents when it comes to Skull. This is pretty much CRACK, people. I wrote this for my amusement, and decided to share with the world. Take it with, like, a pound of salt.

Disclaimer: I own neither Naruto nor Katekyo Hitman Reborn.

Pairings: Nope. None.

Warnings: ...some violence ? And some psychopathic tendencies, because let's be real. It's Gaara. Also, Shukaku needs to chill.

No One's Here To Sleep:

The last thing Gaara would ever remember from his life was the agonizing pain of being ripped apart from inside, as Shukaku was brutally extracted from him.

Or, well, it would have been that, if not for both his and the sand's spirit's stubbornness in sticking to each other like super glue.

Gaara had never been really happy to play host to a demon, and felt that he was pretty justified in that since it had ruined most of his life. But, well. Misery loves company and all that. After a while, he had sort of become used to that murderous voice in his head that gave him really bad life advice.

In a way, Shukaku had always been there for him. Protecting him from harm, making snarky murderous comments, brooding right there with him when he felt down… It had to mean something, right ?

Clearly it did, because the moment they tried to rip them apart, neither Gaara nor Shukaku was very happy with the idea.

One, it was painful. Two, it would very probably kill one, if not both of them. Three, if one of them survived he would be alone. Four, the Akatsuki was probably planning something really bad with them – or at least with Shukaku – and neither host nor demon were really eager to help them do it.

So, really, the last thing Gaara remembered from his life was the agonizing pain of being ripped apart from inside while both he and Shukaku mentally went nope nope nope not happening nope and clung to each other like their lives depended on it. Which it did. Kind of.

He also remembered, really distantly, something bright and odd and twisting but. Well. He thought he had hallucinated that part. Or that it was due to the 'we're dying in an evil ritual' thing.

As it turned out… Yeah, maybe he should have paid more attention to the bright, odd and twisting thing.

But you know, hindsight and all that.

Gaara had never contemplated any sort of philosophical question about death. To him, death was just… the end. Darkness, nothing. You were in pain, you passed out, and that was it.

Rebirth was, along with many religious and philosophical ideas, an impossibility to him.

Which explained why, when a two-and-a-half years old 'Shugu' started finally making sense of all the pictures and feelings that had always been in his head, he didn't get it. Sure, a part of him – the part that had finally a brain developed enough to understand some things – thought that those were his memories from another life, a life where he had been Gaara of the Sand Waterfall, jinchuuriki of the One-Tail.

But a much greater part of him just thought that he had been given memories from someone else, maybe a cosmic mistake or whatever. Or just that he had had a very vivid dream, and had trouble distinguishing it from reality. A lot of trouble actually. Not that it was really surprising, since, you know, between a whole life as Gaara – a life that, all things considered, had been rather short – and the two miserable years of life as 'Shugu', somehow the decades-or-so years of memories seemed more.

How incredibly odd.

Still, the two-and-a-half years old didn't think he had ever been that person named Gaara. Even if sometimes he got confused, he thought it was just that - confusion. Because once you were dead, you stayed dead. Also, he couldn't control sand, he could sleep, and he didn't have a murderous voice in his head.

There. Proof.

Now, if he could just stop dreaming about this…

The problem with those vivid dreams, were that even if they weren't his, they still left a very deep mark on the psyche of the developing infant.

As in, he was a lot smarter than a lot of kids. His 'memories' helped him learn to walk, to eat, and to understand the world very fast. Many people would have thought him a genius for that.

But, those 'memories' were of a whole other world, and that didn't help. At all. In fact, it was the contrary of helpful because somehow he now knew a whole new language that no one spoke. And he had a whole vision of geography, and history, and technology and- well. His vision of the world wasn't accurate. At all.

'Shugu' certainly wondered, at the tender age of three, how he had managed to have such an intense dream and a genius mind, that he had invented a whole world with it's own language, culture, and socio-political problems.

It was impressive, really.

It was also very annoying, because now he had to learn the truth and not mix it up with what his brain insisted was the real truth.

At least, he thought, he could always become an author later in life, because he clearly had a great imagination.

Really, ninjas and demons ? Ha.

Shugu learned, at three, that his name wasn't, in fact, Shugu. His parents called him 'Sugar', which he hadn't understood. How was he to know that it was a pet-name, and not his real name, when he was still having trouble with the language ? Had no one ever thought that maybe one day it would be problematic when someone tried calling his real name, which was Kristopher ?

Shugu, learning that fact only due to learning ingredient names and realizing that the sugar and his name were really similar, was not impressed.

It did make his parents laugh, though, when he stared in confusion at the white powder and then said, in the most offended tone ever – if not the best grammar.

"You name me for that ?"

Now, at three-an-a-half years old, Kristopher-Shugu-Sugar was your average kid.

Sure, he had decided that his name was Shugu and he was sticking with it. Any variation of Kristopher was ignored. Really, it was way too long and complicated for a name ! Who named their kid 'Kurisutofuru' ?

His parents, apparently.

Shugu had already had so much trouble learning the language, he was not going to complicate his own life with a name like that ! Shugu, at least, had the merit of being a simple, normal name.

But really, kids deciding they wanted new names wasn't weird.

Kids having a very active imagination and confusing dreams and reality wasn't really weird either. Not that Shugu went around telling people that he had a whole other life stuck in his brain because he had made a fixation on a dream when he was younger. A dream where he was the leader of a military dictatorship with child-soldiers as mercenaries. He had more sense than that.

And well, compared to what Gaara's life had been, Shugu's life was really normal. He had loving parents, a normal childhood thus far, and none of the fantastic powers that had ruined Gaara's life in the end.

He was maybe a bit awkward, a bit too perceptive, and had some trouble with social cues, but once more it wasn't too weird. His parents thought he would grow out of it, and Shugu certainly intended to. At least, he would learn to fake his way through life, if he didn't manage to learn how normal people acted.

But, he would try, intently, to learn. His very normal, average life depended on it.

Let it be said, Shugu liked his average life.

It was a bit boring, but boring was good too, in it's own way. Better than having a demon stuck in you that whispered murder, kept you from sleeping and probably would be very bad for his sanity. Maybe controlling sand would have been cool, but it came with so many cons that Shugu really didn't want it.

No sir. He was average, and would stay average, thank you very much.

Of course, because life is never fair, it was at that time that Shukaku decided that his nap had been long enough.

Shugu stared with wide eyes at the dog. Or rather, the mess of flesh, bones, blood and fur that had been a dog. The sand slithered away from the corpse and, easy as breathing, came to stick to the stunned child like a second skin.

"Oh, no," Shugu murmured, more to himself than anything else. He was certainly glad that there was no one else around, because he was pretty sure he would be in trouble otherwise. "No, no, that can't be happening."

He had, in his shock, reverted to the almost instinctual language of his dreams. Dreams that were, clearly, more than that since he had just killed a dog with sand to protect himself.

Oh, come on, a voice like the hiss of water hitting scorching desert sand murmured right back, in his mind, is that how you thank me for protecting you ?

Shugu didn't take more than a second to link the voice to Shukaku's, the demon from his dream. That, clearly, weren't dreams.

He scratched at his skin, making the sand covering it chip away – only for the armour to reform in less than an instant. Inspecting his hand, he found that, just like in his dreams – not dreams, memories – there was no indication of his natural, demonic protection. He looked normal, not covered in sand.

His gaze then moved to the mess that had once been a dog, and he grimaced.

Damn it. There went his average life.

Coming to terms with the fact that apparently he was the reincarnation of Gaara, took Shugu the better part of two weeks.

Denial, anger, depression, bargaining, acceptance, and all that.

Let it be said, the denial part wasn't easy when you had a voice in your head and sand creeping up your skin. And the anger part consisted mostly of him finding sand-pits and kicking the sand while Shukaku laughed himself sick.

But the depression, well. Shugu had been Gaara. Gaara was dead. Gaara had lost not only his life, but his world, his family, his friends. Shugu had new ones, but it didn't make up for it. So he spent a lot of time just… Grieving. Mourning for all that had been, all that could have been, all that couldn't be now.

It took him a long time to come to terms with the fact that yeah, no, he still wasn't Gaara. He was Shugu, and the only thing he had from before were memories and a sand-spirit stuck inside of him.

Which, really, Shugu wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing.

A good thing, I'm wonderful and you should be honoured that you still are my host, Shukaku told him grandly.

Right, Shugu thought back dubiously.

At least he wasn't alone. On the other hand, he had a murderous voice in his head. He was a clear-cut case of nut-job in training, and was probably going to end up either in prison or in a mental hospital.

And he had thought his dream-memories were bad.

By the way, Shukaku told him one day, you didn't tell me about the fire power. It's new.

That made Shugu draw short.

"What fire power," he asked flatly, thankful that he was alone – nothing to see there, just a crazy kid talking to the voice in his head.

Well, Shukaku said, you don't really have chakra, you know. I'm the one providing that. But you have some sort of weird purple fire instead. It's been helping you heal, among other things.

Shugu put his face in his hands. Another weird power. Why. Why him ?

Now you can't blame me for not having an average life, Shukaku pointed out gleefully, you would have been weird anyway !

His host simply groaned.

Shukaku being asleep had, apparently, to do with the reincarnation bit. The demon had wanted to stay with his host, but his host had died from shock. So, drawing from both of their desperation to just get away, the demon had managed to send both of their spirit somewhere where it could have a new body.

Neither host nor demon were sure how they had landed so far from home, in a world without chakra or ninjas or anything known. But they had, and it had taken a lot of Shukaku's energy. So the demon had slept to restore himself.

Now that he was awake, though, it meant that Shugu needed to stay awake as well. Especially since the seal hadn't actually traveled through space with them. Of course not. That would be too fucking easy.

The only reason Shukaku wasn't out and on a rampage was some... flimsy fluke, having to do with that odd purple fire. Apparently it was a representation of Shugu's force of will or something, and it was what kept Shukaku from being more of a nuisance than usual.

Unfortunately, the purple fire could only do so much, and if Shugu fell asleep Shukaku could step out and break havoc.

"Well," the boy muttered to himself, "It was nice while it lasted, I guess."

And now, back to a life of insomnia. Yay. At least the purple inner fire was apparently also helping him stay alive although he didn't sleep. He supposed it was a bonus.

Or something.

Shugu often counted his blessings. Staying optimistic was a must, when you had a murderous demon in your head and when you were constantly suffering from a lack of sleep.

So he decided to be happy for anything even remotely good that happened to him. He would have tried to channel Naruto, because there wasn't anyone more optimistic and just good than his old friend, but he didn't quite manage it. Yet.

It didn't mean he couldn't try.

"Hey, Kris !" A classmate from middle school called to him, a mocking lilt to his words. "Did you know you look like a panda ?"

Shugu blinked at the boy, who looked absurdly proud of his – was it supposed to be an insult – words.

Inside of him, Shukaku started throwing a hissy fit about how he was a demon, and if he had to be an animal it was a racoon, and he wasn't a panda ! Pandas were cute, was he cute ? No sir, he was not ! He was the destroyer, the darkness, he was chaos and murder ! He was death and blood and-

Shugu ignored Shukaku's impersonation of batman, and instead tried once more to channel Naruto. Be friendly. Make friends ! He beamed at the other kid.

"Thanks !" He said.

The kid seemed thrown off a loop. Not exactly what Shugu was going for, but eh. Close enough.

At least, he thought with a lot of optimism, he still hadn't killed anyone yet ! Naruto would probably be proud.

You know, Shukaku sulked inside of his mind, I liked it better when you indulged in a bit of death and destruction once in a while.

Shugu hummed, but didn't reply verbally. Shukaku could read his thoughts, anyway. So he knew exactly what he was thinking about his murdering tendencies. He was trying to change ! He wasn't a monster, he wasn't Gaara, he knew better now. He wouldn't kill people just because they annoyed him.

But you could kill people that are hurting you, Shukaku tried to cajole. Like that kid who pushed you the other day…

Shugu expertly ignored him. He was not going to fall back into bad habits. No matter what happened, he would stay pacifist and in control.

No matter what.

Then one day, as he was walking home on his own from school, alone in empty streets, Shugu was grabbed suddenly by the collar and dragged into an empty alley.

Shugu barely had time to register that the guy was saying something about how a 'strong flame' like his would fetch a really good price, and how if he kept struggling he would get stabbed, 'pathetic kid'.

Pathetic, Shukaku growled in his mind, buckling against the restraints that Shugu kept on his chakra, I'll show you pathetic !

Now, Shugu tried. He really did. But unfortunately when kicking and screaming and wiggling didn't work, when he realized that he couldn't put any sort of old ninja training to use to escape, and when the guy got a dangerous glint in his eyes- His mind reverted to the old 'kill or be killed' instinct, honed by years of assassination attempts.

His eyes hardened, and Shukaku let a victorious howl when he lowered his barriers.

A spear of sand, created from his skin-tight armour, stabbed at the man's shoulder, who dropped him in shock and pain. He didn't have time to do much more, as the sand that had started gathering around suddenly closed around him, restraining him.

Shugu stared, motionlessly, at the pathetic man that had tried to kidnap him. Then, with barely a tilt of his head, he uttered words that he had thought he would never say again.

"Sand waterfall funeral."

An umbrella of sand was the only thing that kept him from being splattered with the blood that rained on the alley.

Shugu finally looked down at the blood around. He felt like he should feel something but- he didn't. That man had tried to grab him, maybe kill him. He had defended himself. He had done the same many times, in another life.

Maybe he regretted having to kill, but he didn't care as much as he felt he should. The boy sighed, suddenly feeling very tired and older than he had any right to be.

"Let's clean this mess," he murmured, ignoring the way Shukaku was victoriously crowing about the spilled blood.

When Shugu stepped out of the alley, there was nothing left behind. No sand, no blood, nothing. And Shugu, in spite of logic – which demanded that it would happen again, since clearly he had been targeted for a reason – and in spite of Shukaku's wishes, hoped that there would be no repeat experience.

Of course, it wasn't to be, and the incident was the first of many similar events.

All of them ended in a very similar manner.

Shugu thought that it was the proof that there was something very wrong with him, when he simply grew tired of the attempted kidnappings, and pretended it wasn't happening. Someone else might have been traumatized, or- or panicked, or done something.

He didn't. He just kept on going like usual, pretending that there was nothing wrong and that he wasn't almost kidnapped once every three months. He wanted an average, normal life, and the gods help him he would do his damned best to get it. Fake it 'til you make it was his new motto.

Denial, and acting skills, were great.

Humming to himself, he moved onto the next math problem. Attempted kidnapping wasn't a good enough reason, in his books, to neglect his schoolwork.

Time flew by.

Getting used a new and an old life was hard, but Shugu managed. He had been a demon container for two lives, a ninja, a leader, and now a little kid. He could do this.

"Urg," he said very eloquently, putting his head on the table of the high-school classroom. "I would kill for coffee."

Yesss, Shukaku encouraged in his mind, go on a rampage ! Let me out, I'll destroy our way to the nearest coffee machine.

Shugu ignored the demon with two life-times of practice, and turned to his classmate, who had snickered a little at his misery.

"Another all-nighter ?" Said classmate asked, amused.

"Well, I can't sleep," Shugu said, which most people didn't really understand but oh well.

"Here," a new voice said, and put a cup of the most wonderful thing ever invented in front of Shugu. Coffee.

Shugu grabbed the cup without even thinking, and gulped it down gratefully, ignoring the burn – it would heal in no time anyway, and he needed coffee like he needed air. How had Gaara survived being this tired without coffee, he didn't know. It made everything so much easier.

"Thank you," he told his amused friend gravely, "You are my saviour."

"Yes, I know, it's an all-time war against the demon trying to overcome your body," his friend mocked solemnly. "Without coffee you would go on a murderous rampage because of the lack of sleep."

Shugu snorted. Understatement of the century.

"Wait," Shugu said, staring at his friend with incredulity written in every inch of his face. "What do you mean, 'sand has connotations with sleep' ?"

His friend blinked at him, looking up from the literature essay they were both working on. Then made a vague gesture.

"Well yeah, you know, the sandman ?" He said. "Like the song ? Or the story ? I mean, most people refer to Morpheus when they talk about falling asleep, but the sandman's about just as usual... In short, the sandman comes around, and sprinkles sand in the eyes of people to make them sleep."

Shugu just kept staring blankly ahead, Shukaku's rather hyena-like cackles echoing in his head.

Talk about irony.

Growing up had a few disadvantage, where Shugu was concerned.

One, was puberty. Teenage-hood. Whatever. He had almost managed to go through all this entirely in his old life before dying. He'd been almost there… And now, he had to do it again.

Weird ideas, mood swings, phases, sexuality, body changing, voice cracking, fucked sleeping schedule – oh wait, no, he didn't sleep.

At least he had better control over his sand and Shukaku than he did when he was Gaara. Let it be said, Suna had probably hated his teenage moods back when he had been a tiny whiny little bitch. Especially those he had horribly maimed for no reason.

Not to say that his would-be-kidnappers nowadays didn't feel the wrath of his fifteen years old angst.

Meh.

They sort of deserved it anyway, for disrupting his otherwise normal and perfectly good and average life.

It was one day, as he was contemplating the terrible thing that was going through puberty again, that he realized something.

Being a teenager warranted something like teenage rebellion, didn't it ? He hadn't done it really properly last time. No time for it, what with wars and shinobi life and being Kazekage. Teenage rebellion would probably have ended up in murder anyway, knowing Gaara's life. But now he could do it. And he could do it peacefully, without anyone dying too ! Yay !

"Right," he told his reflection decisively as he stared at his bedroom mirror, "Shukaku, how do you do teenage rebellion ?"

Hell if I know, Shukaku said, murder ?

Shugu doubted that. Besides, Shukaku's answer to everything was murder. And the One-Tail was notoriously bad at giving life advice. The problem was that Shugu had never been quite good at anything that didn't involve being crazy and murdering people. Funny how that worked out.

"Maybe I should ask some higher authority," Shugu mused.

His mother, bless her, had long since adapted to having a kid that was just a little weird. Or a lot weird, and pretty much not in phase with the rest of the world. Once she had told him so, while patting his head sympathetically.

"At least you try," she had said – which was the truth, because Shugu tried really hard to be normal. But well, one could pretend to be a well adjusted member of society but it didn't make it true.

So when Shugu went to ask her very seriously how people did teenage rebellion usually, his mother actually tried to answer that without laughing. Her shoulders were shaking, and her lips were twitching, but Shugu gave her points for effort.

"It's different for everyone, Sugar," she eventually managed to tell him. "It usually means doing something different from usual, discovering yourself, questioning your beliefs, your education… Doing stupid things and just have fun, I guess."

Shugu nodded very seriously, thinking about it. He could do that. Question himself, and do something stupid and different ? He could do that.

Yeah.

Just… Give him a second.

...Are you sure about this ? Shukaku said.

Given that Shukaku was master of Bad Life Advice and even he thought it wasn't a good idea, then no. No, Shugu wasn't sure about this, at all.

But then again, the whole rebellion thing meant doing something stupid and different, and that had to count, right ? He was… rebelling against Shukaku ? A bit ?

"Okay," he said, a bit nervously, "Here we go."

Steeling himself, he walked into the parlour. Beauty and the Beast Parlour. He had seen the name, found it ironic, decided that it would do.

He tried to ignore the fact that the words were in flashing pink, right above the words – hair, make-up and skin care.

"Kristopher !" His mother cried in shock when she saw him come home. She had to be really shocked, since she had said his full legal name, and not the usual nickname. "What is the meaning of this !"

His father, oddly, wasn't saying anything. He was just frozen there, staring. Letting the water run uselessly over the dishes.

Shugu straightened. He actually felt quite good about himself right now, and even Shukaku agreed.

"I decided to change my looks !" He announced proudly. Then, when his parents still stared at him like he'd grown another head, he added with a bit of a shrug. "I like purple."

"You-" his mother sounded a bit choked. Then she smiled wanly. "Okay, Sugar. That's nice."

Shugu nodded, satisfied. He turned away, and went to his room. There, in the mirror, his reflection was totally different from before. While his eyes had always been purple, his hair hadn't been before. And the purple make-up was new too.

But he liked it. It reminded him a bit of Kankuro, and those few shinobis that used the marks as a statement of skill, back in Suna. Marks had always had their importance.

Besides, the purple eye-shadow had the merit of both hiding the dark smudges under his eyes due to insomnia and to remind him a bit of the tanuki-like marks he'd had when he'd been Gaara. He liked it.

The lipstick was just for kicks, though.

"-didn't think it was what he would do !" His mother's voice came to him, muffled and sounding slightly hysterical.

"He's purple !" His father replied – and his tone was more hysterical, and clearly he was wheezing with laughter. "Purple Rebellion."

Shugu was a bit puzzled, but eventually decided to let the matter drop. If his parents were laughing, then there was no problem.

"So, um, Sugar ?" His father asked him, a month later. "Do you intend to um, rebel for some time still ?"

Shugu blinked when his mother started choking on her beans, trying not to laugh.

"I guess ?" He said slowly. Then he shrugged. "I think I'll keep it that way. I really like it, you know."

His father made a complicated noise in the back of his throat. His mother collapsed laughing.

Humans, Shukaku said, I'll never understand them.

Sometimes, Shugu could empathize with that.

Another disadvantage of growing up was the sudden expectation of future plans. As in suddenly, every adult in the vicinity started asking you randomly if you knew what you wanted to be when you were older.

Shugu hadn't quite managed to reply the first few times because well. When he had been Gaara, he didn't really had a plan for the future. More like 'control Shukaku, be a shinobi, be a good weapon for Suna'. Then he had had a flash of ambition and decided 'I'll be Kazekage !'.

And that was that.

But now ? Well, he couldn't be Kazekage, could he.

Damn.

"Shukaku ?" He asked, feeling that somehow he wasn't going to get a good answer.

Something exciting, was Shukaku's unhelpful reply. Then, very predictably, he added. Maybe become a killer for hire ? Or a soldier ? Or-

Shugu, with all the patience that came with two lives of dealing with a murderous beast, ignored his advice. Or at least the murder part.

Something exciting, huh.

"You know," someone glued in front of a TV set in a shopping window said to their friends, "being an actor would be pretty exciting."

Exciting ? Shugu perked up from where he'd been walking, hearing the word he'd been muling on for a few days.

"Oh, I know," person number two replied, "but it must be really hard !" They made an awed sound. "I mean, have you seen the action scenes and stuff ? It looks so dangerous !"

Dangerous ? Shukaku was the one to perk up this time, because of course he liked danger.

"The main actors don't do that," person one scoffed. "They have stunt-doubles for that."

"Mum, Dad ?" Sugu said, that evening. "What exactly does a stunt-actor do ?"

And is it exciting ? Shukaku asked – although Shugu's parents couldn't hear.

Shugu must have watched hundreds of movies in the following months, staring at the stunts and all the cool things on the screen. That was almost like being a ninja, wasn't it ? All the explosions, and the fights, and the dramatic entrances…

It wasn't totally true, but it was as close as he would ever get, wasn't it ?

Besides, he was already on his way to become an actor, since acting was the only way for him to seem like a normal member of society. Emulating Naruto had helped him in countless occasions. And it was kind of fun, he supposed.

That's it, he decided, I'm becoming a stuntman.

"Hey, newbie," the stunt-director called to Shugu, "Maggie's grabbing coffee and snacks, do you want something ?"

Yes, the souls of the innocent ! Shukaku said in his mind.

"Coffee and a bagel," Shugu called.

Nooo, Shukaku groaned.

"Sorry, two bagels," Shugu corrected.

One thing that was good about the recurring attempts on his life and freedom, was that Shugu now had a really tight control on both his sand and the weird purple flames he could make.

It would have been really bothersome, he reflected as he crouched behind a rock, letting bullets ricochet all around him, if his usual sand shield was still acting up on it's own.

"And cut !" The director shouted. "Great doing guys ! We're good !"

Yes, Shugu thought wryly, it wouldn't have been good if he suddenly became encased in sand each time someone fired a rubber bullet at him. How would he have explained that to the crew ?

Special effects ? Shukaku suggested with a gritty laugh.

"Somehow," Shugu muttered to himself, "I doubt it'd work."

What Shugu hadn't really counted on, was the fact that being a good stunt-actor meant becoming somewhat famous.

Between his perpetual armour, his fast healing, and the fact that he was a very fast learner in any sort of martial art and choreographed fight… Well. He soon was getting recommended for new jobs, better jobs, and making more contacts than he'd ever had.

It was when he finally got a private agent that he knew he'd gotten into a mess a bit bigger than expected.

"Sweetheart, we can't use your real name," his agent told him, waving an imperious hand as if to dismiss the thought itself. "People don't remember ordinary names, or names that don't have a ring to it."

"A stage name ?" Shugu said, and was rewarded by a nod and a beaming smile.

His mind, unfortunately, drew blank. While not using Kristopher would be a blessing – finally he was rid of the infernal name – he couldn't use Shugu either. After all, everyone and their mothers would hear it, think 'Sugar' and he'd probably be endlessly teased about it.

"Erm," he finally shot a blank look at his agent, admitting, "I don't know ?"

"That's alright !" His agent told him, still smiling – that was starting to get a bit creepy. "I'll put it to a vote at the agency, how's that ?"

"...Sure, I guess." Shugu shrugged.

How bad could it be ?

Skull Demort – the immortal stuntman.

Well. Clearly, Shugu had been tempting fate with his earlier thought. What sort of name was that ? It was almost worst than Kristopher !

Of course, his agent was gleeful. Certainly, that was a name that had a ring, and that no one would forget easily. The fact that it tied into his burgeoning reputation for making stunts that most seasoned stunt-actors wouldn't dare to try, and surviving them with barely a scratch on himself was just the cherry on top of the already iced cake.

It sounds great ! Shukaku enthused in his mind gleefully, like the manic ball of sand and murder that he was. Dark and threatening, full of death-

Shugu huffed, tuning him out.

Of course Shukaku liked it.

In which Gaara-Shugu-Skull didn't sign up for this shit, has two lives worth of sleep that he'd like to get a refund on, and is pretty much surviving on flames and coffee.

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