AN:I don't own Naruto.

1. Opium use was never a big problem in Japan. However, it was problem enough to inspire a anti-opium campaign in the 19th century. Although almost unheard of in the present, I feel comfortable portraying it in the country I have simply because that country is reported to have experienced many problems and wars that would cause its people despair.
2. This story isn't meant to be fluff. The good guys don't always win, etc. I'm sorry if this is not pleasing. I try to devise the most logical consequences for actions taken by my characters. They don't always end well.
3. In the previous chapter, Gaara mentioned "forming an attachment." That is merely an old way of saying "fallen in love." I used such wording with him because he is very reserved. I don't think he would declare his feelings bluntly. Regardless of how it pans out, the note expressed his belief that he loves her.
4. Also, thanks for the reviews.

Chapter 25: A Veiled Apology

"How could you do this?" Kankuro demanded.
He was dressed in his civilian clothes and completely bare of make up, so there was no masking his anger. His young wife stood beside him, her face full of concern. She was having a hard time deciding between her best friend and her husband in the argument they were engaged in.
The four were in the sibling's childhood home, which now belonged to Gaara. Kankuro stood before Temari, who was pretending to ignore his yelling while casually sipping tea. Gaara was sitting on the couch directly across his sister, his arms crossed and his calm face masking his own irritation.
Kankuro had lost his cool a while ago. Currently, he was experiencing the aggravation those who flare up with anger feel while trying to reason with those who argue like ice.
"That is none of your concern," she said simply.
"It is our concern," Gaara interjected quietly.
The three others turned to look at the redhead. He had not said a word for the past hour.
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"You have behaved selfishly. I worked for two years to secure your happiness. Rokudaime Hokage and I managed to bend the councils to our will by creating an entirely new status for the two of you that would have made your marriage possible. We deserve an explanation," he said coldly.
Temari looked away, her eyes narrowing with concentration.
"I..realized that he and I..." she began, trying to find the right words to explain herself.
There was a pause, and three bodies inched towards her against their will in anticipation.
"He does not want to be anything greater than what he is."
"That's it? So it's because he wants to live an ordinary life?" Maoko broke in. "That's stupid."
"He just doesn't care. He's apathetic. I have tired to push him to his full potential but he grumbles about how troublesome it is and why can't he just be special jounin until he retires at the age of forty."
"But I thought you said he swore he wouldn't be lazy anymore," Maoko argued.
"There is a big difference between being a had worker and having ambition. He works very hard but lacks ambition. I don't think I could spend my life with someone like that."
"So who would you pick then?" Kankuro growled. "Because by your standards, there is no one good enough for you."
"I won't pick anyone," she declared angrily. "I don't need a man anyway."
"If that is your decision, then so be it. I hope you don't grow to regret it," Gaara said ominously. With that, the discussion was over.

Hotaru slowly climbed up the creaking wooden steps. As she approached the second floor, the thickening air became palatable What was that peculiar smell? Opium. She opened the door and slowly made her way inside.

As she stepped into the second floor, she watched the wispy smoke paths as they wound their way through the air, slowly unraveling to join the homogeneous gray cloud that filled the hall. She softly closed the door behind her, not wanting to give herself away.

The hallway was very narrow and lit with only a few small, rectangular windows near the ceiling, to her left. They were all securely shut. The air felt dank and stale. To the right, there were several doors. Some were not completely closed. There was little need for caution as she quietly walked past them. Through the slight apertures, she could see some men reclining on couches, smoking out of very long pipes. She felt nothing but contempt for them. Those who could not withstand pain, and felt the need to drown it out with such means, were barely worth regarding.

The hallway ended with an abrupt turn to the right. With her back against the wall, she held a small mirror at an angle. As instructed, the hallway made a sharp turn to the right and at the end of that bare hall, there was a door, guarded by two men. Their figures could be seen in the small mirror, their reflections hazy.

Only two? She expected at least four. If her Master was correct, this was a meeting of some importance and more than one drug lord was present. Still, she wouldn't question her luck. Two kunai landed their targets before either of them realized anything was amiss.

The man on the right, who was a good deal younger than she would have liked, kneeled on the floor, clutching his throat, before finally dying. The older man to the left reached for the kunai that was lodged in his throat with futility, but could not dislodge it. His eyes were wide with pain before dulling, as his body succumbed to blood-induced asphyxiation. She carefully broke his fall before silently approaching the door.

There was a special weapon in mind for this job, as she had to kill multiple targets at once. Thanks to Lord Miyake's strange foreign collection, she found some very exotic tools for the art of murder. Her favorite was a long whip composed of metal strands that were connected by rings. It was topped off with a large, sharpened rod that was very useful for slashing and stabbing. She was nowhere near mastering it, but could still easily dispense two or three men at once while using its swing to deflect attacks. The biggest draw back was in its difficulty to wield. After its discovery, it took a year of dedicated practice before she began to experiment with it on the field. If not for her healing skills, she would have retained many scars that marked that period.

Hotaru hesitated before proceeding. Lord Miyake did not tell her exactly how many would be in attendance. And due to the windowless nature of the room, she had to make her entrance through the door, the least desirable rout. But she was ready for that as well. She quickly formed the necessary hand seals. No sound was made in her approached and she was certain no one could sensed her. Foolish kunoichi.

Hebi, Inu, Ryu, Tori
Fuuton: Wind Cannon

The door before her was flung inward by a sudden gust of wind, finally landing against the wall with a crash, carrying one man along with it. He was crushed against the wall by the blast. Another man was instantly killed, impaled by a flying beam. Their only light sources, candles, were instantly blown out, leaving those left in near darkness. As the men struggled in the near dark, with powerful winds wiping about them, confusion and panic prevailed.

Several of them tried to escape through the opening, only to be caught by the woman brandishing a kunai in one hand and a whip in another. One man's throat was severed as the metal strand wound its way around his neck and then was forcibly yanked back. Another found he could not see after she emptied out his sockets with two flicks of her wrist before ending his misery with a swift stab to the heart. The third was rendered immobile with three punctures to the lungs and gut.

Those in the opium dens did not stir as they heard the screams of terrorized men. A strange mingling of fear and apathy held them fast.
When the dust settled and the wind faded, she could make out three figures kneeling in the artificial dusk. Unlike the others, they were quite calm, and had not stirred throughout the time of panic.
"Well, it seems that Lord Miyake's stooge arrived at last," said a voice that belonged to an older man. "I've been expecting you."

Kenta sat by the hospital bed as his buddy was pronounced clear of deaths door, yet again. He sighed. In his simplicity, he could not understand why Hideaki insisted on taking such dangerous tasks. This time, it was a missing Suna ninja that was the culprit. The ninja himself was not too much of a problem. The problem arose when he formed a small band of cut-throats with other missing ninja . Instead of immediately heading back to inform his superiors of new development, he charged in by himself. Sure, he took all of them out, but he was found near-death several miles out of Suna. No one could question his dedication, however, as he still clutched the bloodied forehead protector in his right hand, proof of his kill.

For three days, he was in intensive care, needing hydration and an immediate blood transfusion. He also suffered from several broken ribs and a punctured lung. How he managed to travel all those miles of desert with those wounds, no one knew. His behavior was both a source of admiration and contempt.
Gaara, after some reevaluation, decided that Hideaki was not stable enough for missions, and would have to be kept in the village, under observation for at least six months. Regardless of how the observations went, he was barred from solo work for the rest of his career.

Hideaki opened his eyes and found Kenta sitting beside him, much to his annoyance. He didn't like it when others worried about him.
"What do you want?" he asked.
"I'm just here," Kenta answered. "You went off and did something stupid again."
Hideaki did not reply.
"They won't let you work for another six months. Why did you do it?"
He sighed and tried to sit, only to find it too painful.
"They didn't heal my broken bones this time," he observed.
Kenta shook his head in affirmation. "The doctor said he didn't want to bother healing them just so you could go and break them again."

Hideaki couldn't help but laugh at that statement.
"By the time Hotaru returns, you should be able to work," Kenta said with a wry grin. "If the gossip is true, she's going to be made ninja again. If that's the case, maybe we could do missions together. It would be like the old times."

"So how are you and that girl?" he asked to deflect the conversation.
Kenta's face lit up. "I bought her flowers from the green house. She was very happy."
"That's good. Maybe she'll lose a little...ouch, hey! I'm injured!"

"I don't care what you were expecting. You are going to die," she replied coldly.
"Heh, so you say, young lady," he replied as he lit a gas lamp beside him.

She immediately recognized him as one of the men from the banquet she was forced to attend a year ago. He was the geezer that asked her to perform. Kneeling to his right was an wiry attendant who was so bug-eyed, his eyes seemed to want to jump out of their sockets.
Besides the gore and broken splinters lying about, the room was quite beautiful compared to its surroundings. The men were kneeling on silken pillows.

"He is such a predictable man. Laying out this trap was quite simple, really. I'd like to thank you for ridding me of my rivals."
She narrowed her eyes and glanced at the man kneeling on the opposite side of the room, but she could not make out his face as it was still shadowed.

"It was very wise of you to instruct us to place ourselves near the walls. Although that much was obvious, as there was only one way to enter," he told the anonymous man.
"It is you who was wise, my Lord," said his wiry attendant. "As you were the one who picked this room for that very reason."
"But you needn't flatter yourself," the elder man continued, ignoring the servant. "I merely used you as a convenient way to dispose of my rivals. It is a a pity you have to die, really. You are quite pretty. But I'm sure you have worn out your use in those ways as well."
"You're going to die," the attendant cackled with glee.
"The only reason you're not dead yet, you geezer, is because you amused me," she spat before swiftly throwing her kunai. She aimed it right at his smug face.
However, it did not hit her target. The third man was so quick, she did not notice he moved at all until he stood before her, katana in hand, the blade angled perfectly to deflect the flying object. She gasped with shock. His eyes glowed red.

Chieko was occupying herself by washing the dishes. Her mother was working at the store and although she was happy to have one of the first days off in weeks, she didn't like being idle. Besides, ever since her mother's employment, the house became considerably messier. This was especially true after Maoko married and moved out.

She hummed happily as she dried off one of the cups. It was Hotaru's glass, the one she always used as a child. Although her hands were busily with their domestic duties, her mind was preoccupied with more interesting matters. Gaara had asked her to marry him only two weeks ago.

At first, she did not reply. What she did was write her sister a letter. She felt a little guilty, because she knew about her sister's feelings. Before she accepted, she needed to make sure that it wouldn't hurt Hotaru. However, the letter she received from her sister was more than encouraging. Not only did she she give them her blessing, she assured her that the feelings she had as an adolescent was just a girlish crush. Chieko accepted his proposal the very next day.

What Hotaru didn't tell her was that only a couple of days before Chieko's letter arrived, she received the letter which detailed Gaara's intentions and his apology for his former feelings. She didn't tell her that after reading it, she isolated herself in her room, claiming illness. That night, she cried herself to sleep.

Crash!
Her happy thoughts were interrupted when Hotaru's cup slipped from her hands and broke.
Oh my, Chieko thought. I should be paying more attention.

"Haha! As you can see, I have hired a formidable..." the old man's tirade was interrupted when the katana wielding man turned to face him and sliced the air with one swift move.
Both kneeling men froze, aghast, their eyes wide, unsure of what just occurred. They could not speak. Then, as the light dimmed from their eyes, their heads slipped from their necks and fell to the floor. Horror was left plastered on their faces. To Hotaru's amusement, their torsos remained rigid, their exposed necks a testament to the clean manner that snuffed out their life.

The man rummaged around the old man's body, until he found what he was looking for: a bag of money.
"I believe you need this," he said, handing her the old man's head. She took it and stuffed it in a leather pouch.
"Yes," she said, confused. "Why?"
"They needed to die," he replied vaguely.
"I don't understand," She asked. "Why didn't you kill me? Didn't they hire you?"
"No one hires me," he explained derisively.
"Then..." she began. "Why didn't you let me kill them?
He sighed as he rummaged through the other corpses, taking their loot as well.
"I have my reasons. They don't concern you," he said coldly.
"Uchiha," she said at last. He looked up at her.
"You know me." It was not a question. He was demanding an explanation.
"Yes. Years ago, you helped me -us- with rescuing a boy from Orochimaru," she began to explain.
"You're not wearing your forehead protector," he interrupted. Recognition briefly flashed through his dark eyes.
"Yes well..."
"Neither am I," he said. Then after a pause, he continued. "You need to go immediately."
"Wait, I want to know what happened. Why you did what you did. I don't understand," she said as she reached for his arm.
He pulled away.
"There is no reason to explain. You've done what you've set out to do, and so I have I." And with that, he walked away.

She sighed, knowing that she would get nothing else from him. It was all very confusing, but she would never know what his motives were. However, she felt that in that brief conversation, he gave her the closest she would ever get to a thanks and an apology.

You're not wearing a forehead protector...neither am I...

Three days later, Hotaru lay the man's decaying head on a silk cloth before Lord Miyake.
"I have done what you asked, Miyake-sama," she said with low bow, hands flat against the floor.
"Excellent. I did not expect you to come back alive," he replied while examining the head before him.
Hotaru looked up suddenly.
"Sir?" She asked.

"That fool Shito always thought he could outmaneuver me. But his plots were so transparent. The trap he set was obvious. You have been quite a head ache to most of my enemies, you know, little Hotaru," he explained with a proud smile.
"I knew that he planned to rid himself of his rivals and my little tool all in one shot. I even know of the man he hired. He is quite formidable, but clearly a traitor. How else would you be standing here?" he continued.
"Then why?" she asked with her face contorted in rage. She didn't dare look up."Why did you send me?"
"I have no more need of you. And his rivals were mine as well. I knew he would allow you to kill them. He never did like getting his hands dirty. It was the most elegant solution. His death is an unexpected treat."
The last sentence barely left his lips when he found himself slammed against the wall, a kunai at his throat.

"This whole time, I could have killed you. I don't care if you are stronger than I am, Master Miyake," she spat. "I have been trained in the art of murder."
He merely grabbed her wrist and pulled the dangerous object away.
"That is true, but you didn't. You wouldn't. Now why is that? Could it be because you don't want to hurt the boy, who is probably hearing these very words through the thin walls?" he asked those rhetorical questions with a small smile, before continuing with a whisper. "That is what made you so...appealing."

She backed a way, completely repulsed. But she could not deny that fact. If she killed Lord Miyake, Ouji may finally lose the natural goodness she tried so hard to encourage. For him, there were some things she must endure.

"Master Miyake, I have six more months under your contract. I may not be necessary to you, but I have yet to complete his training..."
"Your love for my son is genuine. Perhaps that is why, even now, after you have threatened my life, I will not end yours," he interrupted.
She could not believe what she was hearing. He end her life? That was not possible. What arrogance.

"But sir, he has not yet completed his training," she pressed, completely ignoring his presumptive threat.
"I believe it is complete. After some discussion, it has come to my attention that you have failed to train him in certain areas. His medical training is no longer necessary now that he can heal himself of any damage he may take."
"Sir that is foolish. Because he is sickly, he doesn't have much chakra or stamina for battle. It his control that is astounding, but healing takes great deal of chakra. If he heals constantly in battle, then he may use too much and die," she cried desperately.

That's when an effeminate young man she had never seen before entered the room. His honey brown hair that reached his waist was pulled up in a half pony tail. Two strands of luscious bangs framed his face. His face was beautiful, but haughty. The bastard wore more make up than she did, and his large gray eyes were outlined in black. The forehead protector he wore was one of Earth Country, with a nasty gash in the middle to announce his status. She could feel his power quite clearly when he entered the room. She was out of his league.

"Can't I just kill her? I'm tired of her whining," he said with a smirk.
"No, she is loved by Ouji," Miyake answered.
"Loved only by Ouji-kun?" he mocked.
The Master angrily narrowed his eyes before continuing.
"This is Ouji's new sensei, Juro. He will teach him what you have not. Clearly, your services are not needed anymore."
"But what if she tells?" Juro pressed.
"Even if she did," Miyake replied with a smile. "Who would believe a traitor like her?"

She was too indignant to speak. Anger, rage, and helplessness consumed her. But she would not give them the satisfaction of watching her display those feelings, of having them know they had affected her in such a way. Once again, she felt everything she had worked for fall with a deafening crash. The sacrifices she made, the indignities she suffered, the hours she spent training him, they all became meaningless in one fell swoop. All because that fool of man refused to listen to her. Now, Ouji would die young, of that she was sure, despite her best intentions. She should have just taken him to train somewhere isolated, away from that man. But how would could she have guessed that the kindly Lord, as he had presented to them before, would end up being such a monster.

Gaara, she thought with bitterness and despair. I gave you up for this.
"Sir, as my services are no longer needed, I ask permission to take my leave immediately," she said at last.

She then locked eyes with Juro, and her blood froze. There was a calculating intelligence behind his arrogance that gave her a pause. There was much ambition as well. He was using these naive fools for his own ends and they were too blind to see it. Even if she were to tell Ouji or Lord Miyake, they wouldn't listen. It didn't bode well. She bitterly regretted every minute of time she wasted with them.
"Of course. I will have your payment..."
"I do not want payment," she interrupted proudly before walking away. Ouji was not waiting outside, much to her relief.

"Ouji," she called as she entered his room.
"Hotaru-sensei," he exclaimed. "I am so glad you have returned. Are we to continue the training tomorrow?"
To her relief, his eyes glowed warmly, and there was little of the tyrant she tried so hard to mother out of him.
"Young Master, as of tomorrow, you will have another sensei and I will no longer be your sensei. I am leaving tonight," she explained.
"But why?"
"He will teach you in the ways of fighting, as you wish," she answered. "It is Miyake-sama's will."
Ouji's eyes glowed with excitement.
"But you must listen to me as your sensei. Please, listen to your sensei's last instruction," she said, grabbing his shoulders and holding him tightly. "Whatever you do, do not seek battle. Use his instructions only in time of great need, for if you use too much chakra, you will die."

His eyes became blank with disinterest. Already, she felt her hold on him slipping away.
"Promise me, "she said desperately.
"I promise," he said with the tyrant's eyes.
"Also," also she continued, not caring if he listened or not. This was merely for her own conscience. "Don't trust him. He is using you and
your father. I can see it."
The look he gave her in response said it all.
As if anyone could use my father, it said.
"Perhaps you should start on your way. It is getting late. If you don't want to spend the night, that is," he said coldly brushing her hands aside.
"Of course. Goodbye, Ouji," she said, her eyes misting despite herself.
"Goodbye," she said one last time before leaving. He did not reply.

As she walked away, she carried nothing but the items she brought herself and wore the same travel-worn uniform she used on the caravan those years ago.

She did not give that cursed building a second glance.

Two days later, Gaara received a note on his desk.

To the esteemed Godeim Kazekage of Sunagakure,

It has been decided that the services of your citizen, Yamane Hotaru, are no longer needed. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of releasing her from her contract six months in advance. As we speak, she is on her way. Because she refused camel or horse, she should arrive in two-week's time.
This is not to say that she performed her duties unfaithfully. Far from it, she was a most excellent servant. There is no shame in her discharge. It is was merely done for practical purposes.

Your humble servant,
Lord Miyake Hiroku

Gaara read the note and then set it down carefully on the desk. He slowly got up, desperately trying to stifle his excitement. He nearly bumped into a passing guard as he opened the door to announce the his final declaration for the day.
"Tell the council I will cancel all my meetings today," he commanded the startled man in haste.
"Hai!"
As he formed a sand platform on the balcony, he smiled. Gaara could not wait to give Chieko the news.