A/N: I do not own Naruto, etc.

Chapter 8

Gaara stared in horror at the bloody scene in front of him. The crimson liquid was everywhere, from the hissing sand returning to his gourd to the soaked parasol he held in his trembling hands. His green eyes flitted back and forth over his surroundings, taking in how the fluid glistened on the forest floor like puddles left after some sort of grotesque rainstorm. Massive trees stood guard over the small clearing, silent witnesses to the horrendous crime that had just occurred. Their disapproving stances loomed over Gaara as he stood frozen in shock.

His trance was broken when his hands moved of their own accord, shaking the blood off the umbrella before sliding it closed. Gaara watched the action with a confused expression. The pale, unblemished skin of his hands was a stark contrast to the gruesome mess shaded by the thick foliage. All sound had ceased, as if the forest was holding its breath, waiting for his next move.

Gaara felt the familiar, consuming bloodlust rise and begin to take control. He quickly tried to rein it in, but he wasn't prepared for the ferocity with which it awakened. After years of dormancy, it snarled from deep within his chest, a caged animal yearning to be released to unleash havoc on its suppressors. He was suddenly hyper aware; he focused in on the forest around him with a new clarity, searching for a sign, a sound, anything to lead him to his next prey.

Thick bushes to Gaara's right slightly rustled. The dark leaves quaked as if they registered the threat that stood before them. Gaara's heightened senses snapped into action in response. His hand—still not under his control—immediately stretched toward the plant, and a stream of sand followed instantaneously. Striking with the explosive power of a cobra, it plunged into the foliage.

Gaara battled to regain control of his body, but to no avail. It was as if he was only a spectator, disconnected from the action as he watched the scene play out in front of him. The sand retracted from the bush, bearing a struggling figure with it. Gaara could only watch and wait as the grainy imprisoner drew closer and closer with its prisoner.

As the writhing mass entered the soft light of the clearing, Gaara was finally able to catch a glimpse of what he had unwillingly captured. His eyes widened in shock; a figure from the past stared back him. Short, dark blue hair hung down, framing cheeks that held a rosy tint in their pale contours. Large, pale eyes shone with terror as they hovered over trembling lips. The young girl stopped struggling when she spotted Gaara, turning and focusing a familiar warmth-filled smile on him as he stayed frozen in front of her.

"G-gaara," Even in the midst of her fear, her voice held a calm, soothing note as she pleaded with the redhead, "Help me..." Her round eyes pierced into him, hope dancing in them as she talked to her old friend.

But Gaara could only stand and watch helplessly as the sand enveloped her more and more. His stomach dropped in a sickening plummet. He knew where this was headed, could tell by the patterns the sand shifted into as it wrapped around the young Hyuuga; he had seen it too many times to forget.

He fought desperately to break free of the unknown force controlling him, but he felt as if someone had given him some sort of sedative, leaving his limbs numb and unresponsive. The grains continued to snake upward on the girl's tiny body. As they climbed, she began to realize that the man, her sole companion in the forest clearing, would not be saving her.

Her innocent features transformed into sheer terror. She resumed her thrashing, laboring to free herself from the malignant sand. "Help me, please!" But she was only met with silence.

As the sand closed in on her face, she fixed Gaara with one last, accusatory look. Her trusting gaze was gone now, replaced by a look of utter betrayal. "You're a monster..."

Gaara flinched at her cruel words. She then was completely submerged, the minerals converging to cover her translucent eyes like clouds veiling the bright full moon.

His hand lifted to complete the gruesome task it had started. Its pale digits extended toward the shifting grains in front of him. Gaara could almost imagine that he was reaching out to her, that her small hand would burst out of the sand to latch onto his own.

But the sand remained undisturbed. All was deathly still in the clearing. No sound could be heard, no motion could be seen.

Then Gaara's hand clench shut, and the world exploded into chaos. Blood splattered everywhere. Gaara could see it cover everything around it, hear it splat against his clothing, feel it run down his face and-

Gaara sat up with a violent gasp escaping from his lips. The cool night covered his room like a blanket, surrounding him in total darkness. Sweat ran down his pale forehead and left a thin flim on his bare, shivering torso as he remained upright, chest heaving. He lurched out of bed and stumbled toward the bathroom.

Wrenching the door open, he threw himself toward the counter and flipped on the lights and then the sink. The sound of the rushing water brought him to his senses as he leaned over and splashed the cool liquid onto his ashen face. He twisted the faucet closed and stood upright, letting the water fall freely down his body.

Gaara scrutinized his reflection. His weary image stared back at him, his face and exposed chest as white as snow in the mirror's depths. The only color he possessed appeared in the crimson shock of hair on top of his head and his troubled, sea green eyes—and the bags under them, but Gaara wasn't sure if the prominent shadows counted.

The distinct dark smudges stood out even more from Gaara's recent lack of sleep. While they never truly went away, his nightmares had come back with even more strength over the past few weeks, deepening his ever present shadows...and nearly all of these dreams had something to do with Hinata.

Maybe it had something to do with Hiromi. She was from Konoha after all, and she had arrived near the time of Hinata's death. And, although Gaara knew there was no way she could have really known the Hyuuga heiress (civilians and shinobi did not really mingle), so many things she did reminded him of the girl he had once befriended. The small, friendly smile on her face when she talked with customers, the gentle way she handled everything she carried. After interacting with her, he didn't know how Temari could see her as a potential danger; someone who was a threat wouldn't possess her docile demeanor and the caring way she served her clients, that would just be wrong. It was this quiet kindness that gave her such an uncanny resemblance to the Hyuuga heiress. She must have triggered some subconscious reaction within him, morphing his grief over Hinata's death into these gruesome images.

Gaara studied the way the shadows made his haunted eyes seem to sink into his face. His brows were narrowed, but no matter how he tried, he couldn't smooth the wrinkles, couldn't shake the nausea and self-loathing he had felt during the nightmare. His reflection stared at him like some sort of ghost, a weary spirit struggling to continue in the world. Gaara looked at his haggard appearance. Kami, I really do look scary, like a monster...

With that thought, the images from his dream awakened with renewed vigor. Suddenly, the washroom felt claustrophobic. The walls seemed to close in on him even as he stood there. His breathing quickened, his lungs desperately sucking in air as he tried to calm down. I need fresh air...

Gaara exited the bathroom and crossed his bedroom, opening the wardrobe to pull out a black, skintight T-shirt. He pulled it over his sinewy torso and picked up his red coat. Shrugging it over his toned shoulders, he fastened it before grabbing his vest and heading out the door.

The young Kazekage made his way silently down the dark hallways, following the twisting pathways on a journey that took him increasingly upward. He soon reached the small door that opened onto the roof of Kazekage Tower. Gaara stepped out into the starry night, the cool night breeze a relief after the stagnant air of the tower's interior. He strode across the flat roof and settled into his favorite spot, an elbow resting on one knee while the other leg hung over the roof's edge. He began to look around, hoping to find something to get his mind off the reason why he was there.

Gaara looked up and cringed when he saw the moon-his favorite object of observation on sleepless nights- shining in the star-filled sky, a reminder of the shining orbs he had imagined only minutes before. It was too soon after his nightmare for him to gaze at its pale splendor like he usually did, and instead, he turned his attention to the lifeless village below.

Not a light was on; the buildings looked almost ethereal in the bright moonlight. Their sharply outlined surfaces held a bluish shade in the night, and the shadows from the moonlight wove in and out of the streets. The stillness and serenity of the scene made it seem as if Gaara was observing a lifeless picture on a wall, rather than a village full of living, breathing citizens.

A subtle movement in the corner of his vision caught Gaara's immediate attention. It came from the merchant district, and, as Gaara pinpointed the motion, he realized it was located at Kenta's shop. He let his knee fall, leaning forward with both legs hanging over so he could get a better look.

A small figure exited the third floor window, gracefully jumping into a back alley that connected to the main avenue. It began to make its way quickly through the streets; the lithe figure followed a route that almost certainly was unnoticeable by any of the shinobi on wall patrol tonight. The person stopped at various moments, the pauses indicating the care and precision with which the path had been mapped out. Long, dark hair waved behind it like a banner in the wind.

Hiromi...? Gaara rose from his seat as he tried to keep the reticent apprentice in sight. Could Temari be right? While his recent interactions with had lessened his suspicion of the shy immigrant, this new development sparked his concern. Something was going on here, and he wasn't about to let one girl threaten the security of his village, even if only potentially. Gaara knew he had to follow her, had to solve this ever-deepening mystery.

Disappearing in a whirlwind of sand, he set off to do so.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Hinata shifted gently out of bed. The sheets rustled quietly, but her feet made no sound as they hit the cold, hard floor. Her room was covered in darkness; the only source of light was the moon, its soft beams casting a pale square on the floor of the bedroom, which her thin shadow crossed as she made her way to the closet.

Noiselessly, she changed into a tight-fitting black turtleneck and added a black coat as another layer. It was only slightly chilly in the village at night, with the buildings shielding the citizen's from the harsh desert wind, but she didn't know how it would be out there tonight.

As she tugged her shoes on, she glanced over at the picture frame on her bedside table. The faces of her Genin team stared back at her from a picture that was taken at her last birthday. Their shinobi headbands were absent, for the team and its friends had not wanted to bring even more attention to the group when they went out to eat at Hinata's favorite restaurant.

Kiba had his arm wrapped around a blushing Hinata's neck, a wolfish grin on his painted face. Standing behind them, Shino looked as impassive as ever, but the tilt of his head and his hand on Hinata's other shoulder revealed his quiet pleasure. Akamaru's head was in Hinata's lap, and he was staring hungrily at the cake on the table in front of her. She held back a giggle as she remembered how the dog had snapped it up as soon as the picture had been taken, his humiliated master unprepared to save the dessert from the animal's well-timed attack.

Hinata observed how happy she looked in the photo and felt pangs of loneliness well up inside her. She missed the trio with the intensity of a starving man's hunger. She had made no close friends in Suna, too afraid of making herself vulnerable to discovery. She often thought about them as she worked in the shop, wondered how her friends were doing in her absence. I sure hope they're fine...

Tearing her gaze away from the picture, Hinata finished getting dressed and headed toward the window. She slipped through the fluttering curtains onto the sill, took a soft breath, and leapt down to the ground, landing silently. She immediately began creeping through the shadows on a careful, complex route toward the outer wall.

It had taken her weeks to chart out the patrols of the Suna shinobi. She had paid close attention as she ran errands in the market, or walked home late from an emergency delivery, or snuck through the village at night, always aware of the shinobi who kept watch, invisible to the other inhabitants of Suna. She had thought of every detail she could, from patrol routes and timing to shift changes to possible delays. The path she now took was the result of that intense research, and it had worked out so far.

Hinata tiptoed along her planned route, tracing over the mental image of the map she had so meticulously drawn. Her steps were careful, stiff, and precise, like those of a tightrope walker on his first real performance. She soon reached the sector of town that she had projected to be the darkest, based on the position and trajectory of the full moon, and approached the steep cliff of Suna's outer wall.

The dark haired girl quickly glanced left and right, confirming that the coast was clear before gathering chakra in her feet and sprinting vertically toward the rock top. She didn't slow down as she reached the peak. Instead, she let her momentum take her over the top and into a free fall toward the sands below. She prepared herself as the ground rose up to meet her and tucked into a graceful roll, dispersing the force of her plummet amongst the cushion of sand to prevent injury.

Standing up, she dusted herself off and sent a triumphant look back at the imposing cliff behind her. Part A...complete. She now had five minutes to get out of the range of vision of the nearest shinobi making their way along the patrol route. Hinata turned to face forward, her bright blue eyes piercing the darker shade of the desert night. She located the object of her mission, a dark smudge along the starry horizon, and set off at a sprint toward it.

She reached it in ten minutes. A large rock face stood before her, its intimidating surface so much like the one she just left behind. But it offered safety and relief instead of anxiety and imprisonment. She circled around its base until she reached the opposite side.

Hinata slowed down as she reached her destination. The moon light glinted off the glassy surface of a small pool of water. A group of small trees grew around it, the first green life she had seen in weeks. She let out a small sigh as she sensed the stirrings of small animals and heard the croaks of a few desert toads.

Hinata had searched for a hideaway like this the night before she left to cross the desert with the merchants. It was a good distance from any main paths, and not in the direction of any major cities, which was probably why it had remained undiscovered for so long.

The reason she had looked for somewhere like this was rather selfish, and she knew she shouldn't be doing this. But she couldn't resist; she had to keep at least one part of her life in Konoha intact. So she had decided to start sneaking out two times a week beginning tonight, coming here to train as soon as there was enough light from the moon. Besides, it wasn't like this was totally useless; she needed to keep up her skills, for who knew when she would need them again?

Hinata released the transformation jutsu on her eyes in preparation for her training. She closed them with a deep breath and settled into a balanced stance, feet staggered and shoulder-length apart. She then began her old warm up routine, going through simple positions of her Jyuuken. The movements felt familiar and comfortable, like a pair of worn-in shoes that fit just the way she liked. Hinata relaxed as her muscles immediately responded, and she instinctively flowed into the next sequence with fluid ease. She ducked and wove around imaginary foes, fists striking out mercilessly in a graceful but deadly routine.

Sweat poured down her face after only a couple of minutes. Man, I'm out of shape... She paused for a moment to shrug off her stifling jacket. She moved on in her practice before it even landed in a crumpled heap behind her.

Her right hand shot out into a quick jab, retracting with just as much speed as she spun to lead with her left in a powerful assault. She side-stepped a pretend blow with an agile shuffling of feet and sommersaulted away. Her feet carved twin paths in the ground as she dug in her heels to stop her momentum.

Twirling through increasingly difficult moves, Hinata drew closer and closer to the hills of sand that bordered the oasis. She twisted on one foot and released a sharp left hook before leaping into the air. She twisted and turned in a complicated evasion technique as she glided downward with the speed and focus of a hawk descending on its prey. Then, with a fierce cry, she struck the ground in a lethal blow, the force of the hit causing sand to explode up around her fist.

Hinata let an exhilarated laugh escape her lips when she opened her eyes and saw her arm immersed in the sand up to her elbow. This was the most fun she had had in a while. She tugged upward, knees straightening as she made to stand. But an unexpected resistance yanked her back—hard—toward the sand. I must have put more force in that than I thought...

She attempted to get up again, putting more effort into the motion, but fell back with a confused expression on her pale face. It felt like a hand was gripping her by the wrist, refusing to relinquish its strong grip. As her pale eyes studied the ground, calculating how to escape from the sand's clutches, the hard grains began to curl around her arm, rising up to envelop her shoulder.

"Well, well, well, Hiromi... Or should I even call you that?"

Hinata knew whose rough voice that was. Panicked, she bent her knees and leapt away with explosive power- only to be thrown back to the ground with a pained yelp. The sand continued to wrap itself around her, lifting her surprisingly gently and turning her to face where the sound had come from. She immediately closed her eyes; she couldn't let him know who she was.

"Who are you working for?" His tone was angry and accusatory as he questioned her, so different from calm pitch she had heard so much lately.

"N-no one" That damn stutter was back again. I guess old habits die hard...

"I don't believe you!" The words fell harshly in the now still clearing. "Tell me who you are working for, and I won't have to force it out of you." The sand crawled over her as he spoke, buzzing like a nest of angry hornets ready to strike.

Hinata didn't answer. She scrunched her eyes closed even more tightly in anticipation of the pain that she was sure would come. The same fate that she witnessed happening to that genin would happen to her; it was only a matter of time.

She could sense him grow frustrated at her silence, fuming at her refusal to respond. "You came into my village, under my protection. I tried to befriend you, began to trust you even when my sister didn't, and this is how you repay me? By revealing yourself as a potential threat to Suna? It shouldn't surprise me, I guess. But as the Kazekage, it's my job to protect my people. I will not stand by and let you continue until I find out what your intentions are."

She remained quiet, with her pale eyes closed. Gaara finally snapped at her stubborn muteness, "For Kami's sake, Hiromi, look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. You at least owe that to me."

Gaara's voice cracked on these last words, and curiosity forced Hinata to open her eyes and meet his, taking in his expression. Why is he so upset…? His face was set into an uncharacteristic snarl, arms crossed over his chest in a demanding and intimidating pose. But he couldn't hide the hurt and betrayal storming in his sea green eyes.

As Hinata's translucent gaze met his own, the hateful look disappeared from his features, transforming into one of recognition and disbelief. He took a step back as if he had just been slapped. The blood drained from his face and washed away what little color he had; his bright eyes widened, a look of horror flashing across their green depths as he took in the sand-covered girl in front of him. The sand loosened its hold on her, not letting her go completely, but lowering her to the ground in the overwhelming silence. After what seem like an eternity, he spoke in a small, shaky voice.

"Hinata…?"

Review please!