Drifting Sand

Chapter Two

Raindrops – Story of an Old Woman

Gaara had come to realize something. It struck him several days after leaving Chika's village, not long after he had crossed the border and left the Country of Wind. It wasn't really a new thought, but like so many other things, it felt like something he was finding out for the first time.

He disliked the rain.

In his life, the young Sand shinobi had experienced rain very few times, and most of those were when he was away on a mission. He had never really considered his feelings about water falling from the sky before, just its tactical impact on his objective.

It didn't help much that he had decided not to use his sand for anything unless absolutely necessary, so he couldn't shield himself from the showers. Knowing that he was going into foreign countries without cause or permission, he did not have any particular desire to deal with the trouble it would bring if other ninjas became aware of his presence in their territory. There were two ways to manage this: one was to remain hidden at all times, or two, he could pretend to be a regular traveler and try to blend in. Since part of his reasoning for this trip was to observe social interactions between average people, hiding in the wilderness was more or less pointless.

And so Gaara found himself trudging through the soft Earth that made up the road he was on. His clothes had been thoroughly soaked during the previous hour of walking, making parts of them stick to his skin and others flap around distractingly. His red hair was slicked down onto his head, dripping onto his nose and sometimes into his eyes, something that irritated him to no end. All of this mixed with a thick, humid heat that permeated everything, and his displeasure rose still further.

He hated this place.

He was sorely tempted to use his sand. All he had to do was wrap it around himself and it would dry him out in a few minutes. At the very least he could use it to make an umbrella for himself, like most of the other travelers on the same road had.

He stopped himself, however, knowing that doing so in front of others would defeat the purpose of the steps he had taken to avoid detection. He had removed the forehead protector from the harness for his sand gourd, and had used some of the sand itself to blend in with the skin on his forehead to hide the symbol for love that he had branded himself with when he was younger. The gourd itself, the thing that he felt would most easily identify him, he decided to change into a more normal shape. Using his chakra, Gaara transformed the gourd into a large backpack, something that would still be able to hold most of the sand without appearing too large. The rest of it he redistributed to various parts of his body, forming them into things like armor plates on his forearms and shins.

It all felt quite awkward to the young ninja, but he was determined to blend in as well as he could. He knew from personal experience that shinobi and assassins could be hiding anywhere, watching.

So onward he trudged, mild annoyance showing in an ever so slight scowl. Wiping rain and sweat from his brow for what seemed like the thousandth time, he stared at a passerby who was shielding himself from the showers with a red umbrella. Gaara found himself wishing he had one of them himself, while the man found himself wondering if he was about to be attacked and robbed by the boy that stared at him with those black rimmed eyes.

"Excuse me, young man." Gaara stopped, turning away from the nervous looking man whose umbrella he desired. As he looked, he saw the source of the weak and wavering voice.

An old woman, very advanced in years, unsteadily leaned on a cane while barely keeping her umbrella above her head. She was dressed in a blue kimono, which he imagined must have been quite hot in this weather, and red, wooden sandals. Her silver hair was pulled up into a tidy bun with two large, lacquered wood pins holding it in place. With a small bag hanging from her umbrella arm, Gaara wondered how the woman was still alive, let alone how she remained standing.

While he didn't respond to her, she took the fact that he had stopped and was looking at her to mean he was listening, "Young man, would you be so kind as to help an old woman walk the rest of the way to town? I don't think I can make it by myself."

Deciding that this was the sort of thing a good person would do, he moved over to her, still not speaking. She didn't seem to mind his silence. "Thank you," she said with some relief as she took hold of his arm, handing him the umbrella as she leaned on him. He noted that she seemed to weigh next to nothing, to the point that he could likely throw her to the next town with a decent tail wind. "It's so good that there are still nice young men like you in this world, people who aren't too busy to help a poor old woman."

She began to walk as he supported her and held the umbrella against the rain. At least I can dry off like this. The woman remained silent as they crept along the road at speeds reaching one foot every five weeks. At least, that's how it seemed to Gaara, used to racing across the landscape faster than a horse. And that was when he didn't use his sand to fly.

He looked at the wrinkled old woman, seeing what appeared to be a pleased smile on her face as they moved. After a while, the red haired boy spoke his first words to her, voicing a question that had entered his mind almost from the start, "Why were you trying to walk such a distance by yourself?"

A small laugh escaped her before sighing, "It was silly of me, wasn't it?" Gaara was about to say yes, but decided that she did not actually want him to answer. "I just wanted to surprise my son. He lives in the town up ahead. Just last year I could make this trip with no problems, but I suppose that time is finally catching up with this old kunoichi."

Gaara blinked at the woman, "You were a ninja?"

She laughed again, "Yes, many years ago. Almost in another age. I was a Chuunin during the wars." He silently wondered at this. She really is old. "My husband and I were ninjas from the Hidden Village of Rain," she said wistfully, suddenly getting a surge of energy in her voice, she asked, "Would you like to hear a story, to pass the time until we arrive?"

He couldn't see why not. It was an interesting chance to learn something about Rain shinobi, since his only previous experience with them consisted of him slaughtering some of their men. Besides that, it would be nice for him to have something to take his mind off the dampness of his clothing, so he nodded his assent.

"It was not long after the wars ended," she began, "I wasn't old, but I wasn't very young any more either. My husband and I had conceived our first child shortly after the armistice, and that boy was nearing his first birthday. Raising him had taken me away from being a kunoichi, but my husband still went on missions, and by this time was a very powerful Jounin."

"On a day like this one, with the skies filled with clouds and the land soaked with rain, my husband came home just as he always did. I went outside to meet him, as I always did. But this time, things were different," her ominous words seemed to clash with the almost unattached way she spoke them, "When he arrived home, a single man appeared. We both knew that he was a shinobi from Mist, a most infamous assassin who abandoned his village because he wasn't allowed to kill as much in the new days of peace."

Gaara felt that on some level, he was like this man. At least, he used to be like him. Having a thirst for blood is something that the young man knew all too well. He imagined that if things had not changed for him that day in Konoha, he would be like this man, even now.

"My husband and I," she continued, bringing him back to reality, "were both Jounins, and quite powerful ones, if I do say so myself." She smiled slightly as she said that. "Well, at the time I had only been a Jounin for two years, but I was still pretty impressive. This assassin, however, had powers that made ours pale in comparison. He was on a level that would allow him to stand toe to toe with a Kage in combat and have an excellent chance of coming back alive."

Gaara found himself more and more interested in this story. This man seemed more and more like his old self. Also, if this man was so powerful, how did they survive?

His thoughts were interrupted by a group of men standing in the rain, blocking the road ahead. The shinobi watched them closely as he and the woman crept forward. For her part, she kept silent, the pause in her story indicating that she was well aware of their presence.

The pair stopped well short of the group of armed men, but close enough to speak over the sound of the rain without difficulty. They were not shinobi, Gaara felt, seeming more like renegade samurai. Their tattered clothes and battered piecemeal armor led him to believe that they were bandits with actual combat experience. They were nothing compared to Gaara, but he had learned not to underestimate enemies that at first seem weak.

When neither Gaara nor the old woman spoke, one of the bandits called out, "This doesn't concern you, boy. Leave the woman and get out of here." Other travelers on the road began to speed their pace away from the scene, hoping desperately to avoid the thug like group and whatever they may have been getting ready to do.

Having no intention to obey, he instead asked, "What value can an old woman like this one have to you. Leave her be."

The group, who were somewhat more professional than he had originally given them credit for, began to unsheathe their katanas and grip their spears tighter. They did an excellent job of concealing their smiles, and if it had been someone different, they would have been an intimidating sight.

"This is not a negotiation, boy," he responded, condescension obvious in his words, "We are going to take the hag with us, and you can either get out of the way or die."

Wondering to himself how he would be able to defeat them without his sand attacks, he knew this would be a difficult fight if he hid the fact that he was a ninja. As he ran through several possibilities, he felt the umbrella being lifted from his hand. The old woman smiled at him and said, "I'm sorry, young man, I need to use this for a moment. You'll only get rained on for a minute." He let go as he watched her take a few steps forward.

"I'm sorry gentlemen," she apologized to the men, "but I'm going to see my son today, and it's very important. I'm afraid I can't let a group of brigands like you stand in my way."

They chuckled at her veiled threat, though Gaara saw the tension, the wariness in their eyes. They know she's a kunoichi, or at least, that she used to be. It confirmed something that he was fairly certain of to begin with. These men had targeted her for a reason, though why they would want to kidnap a hundred year old woman, even if she used to be a ninja, he couldn't fathom.

The same bandit spoke again, "Well, I'm sorry too, grandma. We're just going to have to delay your family time for a little while, until we get what we want."

"I see," she said, "Then I suppose I have no choice." The woman tossed the umbrella into the air, far higher than she should have been capable of. As it flew, she began to make motions with her hands, in front of her. Gaara could feel her chakra flow but was amazed by what she was doing with it, something he had never seen before.

She's making one handed seals, with both hands! He watched as her gnarled fingers moved from one form to another, performing two jutsus at once, and blinked at the surprisingly large swell of chakra she was bringing to bear. Something went wrong, however. Her chakra level dropped sharply as she staggered in place. Letting out a groan of pain, Gaara knew that she had pushed her body too far by using that much power.

Nevertheless, the woman finished her seals and sent what power she still had into the two jutsus. One he had seen before, during the second part of the Chuunin exam. A hundred needles spread out from the edges of her umbrella, arcing down at the group of wide eyed men.

At the same time, her other jutsu activated, and Gaara watched as the rain drops themselves slowed in midair, stopped, then lanced directly toward the crowd from all directions. The water shuriken and the needles from above lanced into the men in a hundred places. Four of the bandits crumpled to the ground, needles protruding from their heads, or stuck in their eyes. The other six were in pain, with cuts all over their bodies and metal darts stuck in their arms, legs and backs. There was no doubt in his mind that if she had been able to use her full chakra, none of these men would be alive.

The leader, who appeared to be the least injured and the least perturbed by what had just happened, began to walk forward, "That was impressive, old hag, but age has obviously rusted your abilities. You can't even stand anymore."

He was right. The aged ninja was wobbling, holding her chest. She began to fall backwards, unable to hold herself up or catch herself. She didn't seem surprised at all, though, when she felt an arm around her back. Gently helping her to sit on his sand backpack, which he had shed, and grabbing the umbrella as it floated back down, he looked at the now wet old woman, "Are you alright?"

She smiled kindly at him through her pain, "I'll be fine, young man. You don't have to go to so much trouble to help an old woman like me. I've lived a long enough life."

"It's not just that," he replied, "I want to hear the rest of your story."

Handing her the umbrella, he reached for the area of the pack that looked like the top flap. Concentrating slightly, he yanked his hand away. As he turned toward his enemies, their leader let out an amused chuckle, "So you want to fight us, little man? Don't think that it will be as simple as charging into us and amazing us with your swordsman talents."

Gaara griped the katana that he had formed out of the sand, channeling his chakra into it to harden and sharpen the edge even further. "I'm aware of your little trap," he sounded bored, "Your backup men hiding in ambush are pitifully obvious." Most of the bandits lost their smile at that. "And no, I do not intend to amaze you with my swordsman talents. The fact of the matter is, I'm not very good at fighting like this," he explained, "Even so, it is impossible for you to kill me."

The leader began to look eager, "Is that a challenge?"

"It's a fact."

The man began to laugh at the boy who barely looked to be in his teens. "Come on out, men! We've got a live one here!" At his call, four more men appeared from the trees on either side of the wet road.

"Let me kill him!" one of them hissed, lurching forward.

"Be my guest," the brigand leader said as his other men began to smile and chuckle.

Gaara watched the large, spear wielding man as he approached. He obviously had some skill by the way he moved. The man had also killed many times. The young shinobi could smell the blood on him.

"You should look more afraid," he said, towering over Gaara, "The fear in peoples eyes is what makes killing them worthwhile."

He sounds so much like someone we know, doesn't he?

No, I'm not like that anymore. I'm not like him.

Come on, the fear in your victims eyes just before you soaked their blood into the sand in your gourd? You love it!

That was the old me. I came on this journey to help make sure that I never return to that path.

Your path was chosen when that monster was sealed within you. You may find a side track every once in a while, but it always will return to your true path. A destroyer. A monster.

"Never."

The man looked a little surprised at the steel in the boy's voice.

"I will never show fear before a pathetic thing like yourself," Gaara growled, gripping his sword with both hands, bringing it up to a fighting position.

"How disappointing," the spearman said, "This will be no fun at all."

"You will soon know the truth of those words," Gaara spoke, his words deadly. He noticed the look on the leader's face had hardened somewhat. That one is no fool. I'll have difficulty with him.

"Don't look away from your death!" Gaara quickly looked back to see the spearman beginning his attack. He channeled chakra into his hands and concentrated.

It was over in a flash. The ninja of the sand had completely ignored the other man's movements, and instead concentrated on controlling the movement of the sword. Using his chakra, he moved the weapon of sand at incredible speeds, and did his best to keep his hands on it as it jerked his arms forward and up.

The sword had sliced cleanly through spear and man, cutting the shaft halfway down, then continuing through his right arm just below the shoulder. Time seemed to slow as the broken spear flew through the air alongside the muscular arm, still gripping the shaft of the weapon. The blood caught Gaara's attention more than anything, threatening to awaken something deep within him, but he quickly pushed it away, forcing himself to shift his gaze back to the leader, even as the spearman crumpled in a screaming heap.

"My arm!" he cried, "He cut of my arm!"

"You will not be able to kill so many people like that," the old woman said, still panting but obviously recovering from her exertion, "Perhaps you should find a new line of work?"

The man was incensed by the insults, and pushed himself up with his single arm, "I'll kill you, you old bitch!" Getting to his feet, he began to run at the old woman, sitting calmly on Gaara's 'sand bag'. He quickly found himself unconscious and face first in the mud after the Sand nin struck the back of his head with the hilt of his sword.

The bandits exchanged nervous glances with each other, while the boss didn't seem pleased, he still held an unpleasant smile, "Well well, the little boy here has some bite to go with his bark!"

Giving a wave to his men, they tentatively began to move forward. Gaara could see their nervous fear and chose to exploit it. He closed his eyes and searched within himself. Deep in the dark corners of his mind, he found what he was looking for.

When his eyes flashed open, they could all see the murderous intent, the hatered. They could all see a demon that would consume them all in the fires of hell.

It was more than enough to push them over the edge. Dropping their weapons onto the muddy road, they began to scream and run. Their leader, however, was not as intimidated, "Where are you going you cowards? I won't let you run away!" As he said this, he lunged at one of his men, lashing out with his katana and bringing the man to the ground, dead. Two more fell in this manner before the rest made it past him and ran into the distance. "Come back you bastards! It's only one boy!"

"A boy you are too afraid to face yourself?" Gaara prodded, just loud enough to be heard over the rain. The now lone ronin turned to look at his red haired nemesis, anger in his eyes. "Let's get this over with," he continued, "The old woman still needs to see her son today."

The man set his feet and held his katana near his hip, blade behind him and nearly touching the muddy road. Gaara, too, set his feet, and brought his sand sword up to his right side, the tip near his cheek. The two stared at each other for several minutes, watching for weakness.

The old woman patiently waited from her seat atop Gaara's sand, holding her umbrella with an amused smile on her wrinkled face. They all remained motionless and silent.

It was triggered, in the end, by a flash of lightening, less than a mile away. By the time the thunder clapped, the two katanas were crossed, the two warriors intently watching each other's eyes for a hint of what the other would do next.

Gaara had been correct in his assessment of this man, he was talented with his chosen weapon. His style wasted little movement and his speed complimented that to a point that Gaara would never have been able to keep up.

Since the young Sand nin had never needed to use anything besides his sand as a weapon before, he was barely proficient in physical combat. Fortunately, his sand sword could still be controlled mentally, and thus he was able to swing the weapon as quickly as he could will it to.

In truth, swinging the sand katana might not have been the correct way to describe it. It was more like the sword was swinging itself and dragging Gaara along for the ride. Gaara was more concerned with not jerking his body around everywhere than he was with the man he was fighting. Having never used his powers like this before, or even considering it, really, he was fighting a steep learning curve that made his fighting look strange at best.

It all seemed very erratic and confusing to the ronin, and extraordinarily frustrating. No matter what he did, the boy's sword would whip around and block his attack. He couldn't understand why such awkward looking moves could be countering his own with such ease.

After several minutes, the two paused briefly, watching each other, panting as the rain drops rolled down their faces and off the nose. The leader of the bandits smiled at his opponent, "I don't think I can win this fight. But at least I can force a draw." Gaara wondered what he meant when the man turned and dashed away from him. His black rimmed eyes widened as he realized what the rogue was doing.

During the fight, he had been careless enough to let his enemy get between himself and the old woman. Now, the man had a clear shot at her, and it was obvious that he wasn't going to hold back.

"You'll have to decide between trying to save a dying woman or chase me!" he yelled, the twisted smile growing on his face.

Propelling himself forward, Gaara knew he wouldn't make it. He looked at the old woman who, strangely enough, was still wearing a pleased smile.

"Don't feel you have to hold back on my account, young man," she said, "There's no one else here. Let him have it." Gaara let out an amused huff, grinning in spite of himself.

"Sorry grandma, but it's you or me!" the bandit leader yelled as he cocked his arm back for a thrusting attack. Rotating his whole body, he thrust the katana at her heart.

But the strike never landed. His eyes opened wide as he saw the wall of sand that had risen just enough to block the tip of his blade, less than a foot away from the still smiling and completely unperturbed old woman. He had time to let out a surprised, "What?" before another arm of sand rose up from behind her, arching over her umbrella and driving his head into the muddy road.

After a few seconds, the man shakily pushed himself up, turning to see the red haired brat who had somehow defeated him. The boy had his arms crossed over his chest, and was staring with those dark rimmed eyes. Before he could ask how it had all been possible, the sand grabbed him by the leg, held him upside down for a moment, and slung him deep into the woods.

As the bandit's cry faded away in the distance, the elderly woman began to clap as well as she could with an umbrella in her hand, "Very impressive, young man! I was hoping to see you use more of your power, but I suppose against someone that weak…" She began to laugh as she imagined him flying off into the trees again.

Gaara shifted the sand around to form a canopy over them, and a dry place for him kneel down so he was at her height. "You knew the whole time," he stated.

She laughed again, "Well of course I knew! I may be old but I'm not senile." She patted the bag of sand that she was still seated on, "This stuff has quite a bit of chakra in it, I would have been blind not to notice. Not to mention the powers that hide within you."

He nodded as he took this in, "I had been trying to conceal my chakra. I don't want to make my presence known to other ninja as I travel."

"Don't worry, young man," she waved her hand around dismissively, "Most shinobi wouldn't have noticed unless they were looking. But as I said before, I was quite a good ninja in my time."

"I was impressed with your hand seals," he said, showing genuine respect, "I have never seen such a thing before. Could you teach me one handed seals?"

"If there is time," she said, "Speaking of time, I am well enough. We can continue onward on foot."

He hadn't been trying to hide the fact that they had been moving since he had knelt down with her. The sand that protected them from the rain and mud had been carrying them along the road at a reasonable clip, as Gaara tried to make up time. "You do not require more rest?" he asked, "You seemed to have been in pain when you used your jutsus before."

"I can rest when we reach my son's home," she said, standing as the sand parted around her and she began to lean on Gaara's arm again. The sand coalesced on his back, forming into the pack again. "Now, as I recall, you said that you wanted to help me because you wanted me to finish my story."

He nodded to her as they continued their slow walk through the rain. "Now, the assassin had appeared before my husband and myself. We knew that it was unlikely that we would escape with our lives, but our only other choice was to lay down and die. And so, we began to battle with him."

"It quickly grew out of control as our most powerful jutsus and summons were countered by even more powerful ones from him," she recalled, "The fight destroyed a large area of land and part of a nearby village." Gaara tried to imagine it in his head and had little difficulty. Jounin level battles and above were not unheard of for him.

"As the battle wound down, it became more and more clear who had the advantage. The assassin would kill us both, and our child if he knew about the young boy. It was something my husband could not abide."

Gaara continued to listen intently, paying little mind as they entered the gates of a moderately large city. He had even forgotten the rain and humidity that had irritated him so. She continued as they made their way through the busy streets.

"I don't know what it was exactly, or where he learned it, but he activated a forbidden, suicide jutsu. Looking at me, he smiled and told me, 'I love you so much, and I always will. In this world and the next.' After that, he bounded forward toward the assassin. There was an explosion, and then he was gone, along with the assassin. The man I loved so much, had simply stopped existing in this world, and left me behind."

She looked over at the young ninja, who stared intently at her, unsure what to say or feel. "You are still a little young to know about love," she said, some bittersweet emotion seeping into her voice, "But don't worry, I think you will definitely find someone who loves you as much as I loved him."

The gears in his head ground to a halt at those two sentences. I don't know what it is like to love another like that, but I do know that I have taken that love away in my thirst for blood. His self loathing was interrupted by the other statement. He found it hard to believe that anyone would ever love him at all, and certainly not enough to give their life for him.

But what if she's right?

He felt warm and found himself hiding an unexpected smile. Apparently, he didn't hide it from her very well, as he felt a light pinch on his cheek as she laughed out loud, "You're cute when you blush. Anyone with a shy smile like that will find their special someone in no time!"

Many miles away, in the Hidden Village of the Leaf…

"Ah-choo!"

It was remarkably dainty for a sneeze, with a cuteness that fit the person it came from perfectly.

"What was that, Hinata?" Kiba asked, starting to laugh.

The girl blushed as she tried to sink a little lower in her seat, "E-Excuse me."

Shino broke his day long silence with a quiet suggestion, "Perhaps someone is talking about you."

Kiba laughed harder, "That's a good one, Shino!"

The young man stared at Kiba silently through his sunglasses as Hinata blushed even further. Maybe it was Naruto…

The two boys didn't even notice her sheepish smile behind them.

Back to Gaara…

"Thank you so much for bringing me to my son's house," the old woman said.

The Sand nin had been slightly taken aback when she had led him to the mansion he was currently standing in. As it turned out, the woman's son was Mayor of this city, and had been for some number of years. He had built up an impressive fortune, and it showed in the ornate decorations inside his large abode.

"Yes," her somewhat portly son added, "Thank you for bringing her safely here. I'm sure she exaggerates, but if you fought off even one brigand, then you deserve this." He handed Gaara an envelope, which he looked at questioningly. "Please don't open it until you leave. I don't want to have to convince you to keep it." The man, who appeared to be nearing senior citizen status himself, smiled at the young shinobi, who simply placed the envelope in his pocket.

"Now, now, don't spoil the young man," she jokingly chided her son.

"Come on now, Mother," he turned to her, "It's been a long, hard day for you. I think you need to sit down and take a nap." He motioned for one of the maids to come and lead the old woman to the next room. Gaara felt slightly indignant at seeing such an impressive ninja being spoken to in such a way, but on the other hand, she had indeed started to look quite pale.

"I'd like to ask something," the shinobi spoke out suddenly, "before I go, there's something I want to ask." She motioned him to come over, which he did. She shifted her weight onto his arm as the maid moved several paces away.

"What is it, young man?"

"Why did you tell me that story?" he asked, voicing the thing that had been bothering him since they arrived.

She laughed quietly, "I knew you were a shinobi from the moment I saw you. That is why I called you over to walk with me. It wasn't for protection, but to tell you about my husband. I told you because you are a ninja."

Gaara turned this over in his mind, but still was at a loss, "But why did you tell the story at all?"

She reached up and rapped his head with her knuckles twice. There was surprisingly little force behind it, "You should be able to see that for yourself." When she saw that the blank look had not left his face, she sighed, "I told you that story so you could see the damage a shinobi can do to the lives of others. Not just the ones he kills, but the ones that are left to mourn his victims."

He blinked at this as her words hit home. Seeing that something stirred in his mind, she added, "Many times a ninja must kill to fulfill his duty, but killing for the sake of killing cannot lead you to where you want to go."

Her wrinkled hand came up and patted his shoulder, "Don't worry too much, young man," she spoke warmly, her smile returning to her face, "Someday you'll find the girl for you. And I want to be the first one to know when you do."

Motioning for the maid, she shifted her weight off Gaara's arm. Giving him a wink, she slowly shuffled out of the room. The red haired young man was lost in thought for several moments before moving back over to where the mayor was still standing.

"So," he said, disbelief tingeing his voice "Were there really fourteen bandits out there?"

Gaara hesitated for a moment, figuring that it was best to avoid drawing attention to his abilities. "She may have exaggerated a little," he replied, his voice noncommittal.

"I thought as much," he said, smiling a little, "Whoever they were, they were probably trying to hold her for ransom. It's no secret that I've amassed quite a little fortune." He sighed before continuing, "She's starting to get a little old, and a little harder to be patient with. Still, she's my Mother and I love her very much. I truly thank you for protecting her."

Feeling a little uncomfortable with the heartfelt praise being heaped on him, Gaara changed the subject, "Why did she want to visit you so badly today? Why not tomorrow or the day after?"

"She always makes a surprise visit on this day every year," he replied, "It's not really much of a surprise anymore. I try to send people to escort her here, but she always manages to disappear into the woods and then sneak into the mansion," he chuckled as he said this, "I suppose she's a little too old to be doing that anymore, too." He noticed Gaara's emotionless eyes on him and realized he hadn't answered the question, "Well, the reason that she always comes here on this day, is so we can go and pray at my father's grave. Today is the anniversary of his death."

It all made sense now. There had been so many things that had confused or surprised him since meeting the old kunoichi, but now they had all fallen into place. This, he thought, is the kind of experience that I wanted when I left on this journey. He had learned a great deal in the last day, and had seen more about himself, as well.

Blinking to himself, Gaara thought of one more thing that he had to know. "I need to ask her something else, something I have to know," he spoke, turning toward the room the old woman had been led into. Her son seemed surprised and mumbled out a short protest, but didn't try to stop him.

Opening the door, he saw her sitting in a reclined chair near the fireplace. Moving over to her, he spoke in earnest, "There is one more thing I need to know. Please tell me if…" He trailed off in mid-sentence, feeling something wasn't right.

"What's wrong?" the man asked, following Gaara into the room, "Oh, I see. C'mon, Mother, wake up for a minute! This young man has something he wants to ask you before he leaves."

Her eyes did not open, nor did she stir. "Mother?" his voice held a hint of worry.

Gaara stepped forward, placing his hand on her forehead. He closed his eyes and concentrated, searching. Her skin still held some warmth, but he could feel no chakra. It wasn't that it was not flowing through her body, there just wasn't any there.

Removing his hand, he did not open his eyes. Turning away, he could hear her son as he began to realize the truth. The old man's sobs made Gaara clutch at his chest, instinctively trying to placate the pain he felt.

He disliked the rain.

He didn't understand how the old woman could have lived in a place that it came down so much. Then again, she had been a kunoichi of the Hidden Village of Rain. She probably liked it that way.

Gaara had never been to a funeral before. He had seen death more times than he would ever remember, but funerals were never something that he had any interest in. Maybe it was that he had no interest in saying goodbye to people he didn't know or care about. It didn't matter to him one way or the other. This was the first one he had seen.

He had quietly viewed the body of the old woman, dressed in white with a white square of cloth draped over her face. Not knowing what to think about what he was seeing, he simply thought about the woman's story. About her and her husband, about the things she must have seen, the battles she must have fought. How many things must have happened to her to have brought her to meet him on the road on her last day of life?

Walking slowly behind the rest of the procession as they walked in the rain, Gaara followed them to the cemetery, umbrella in hand, where they buried her next to the grave of her husband. He watched as she was lowered into the ground, and he wondered if she would be able to meet her husband again. He had never given any thought to such things before, but now he found himself hoping that they were true.

Almost before he realized it, the rain had stopped. The sun was peeking out from behind the clouds near the western horizon. The majority of the procession had left, so Gaara took this chance to make his way over to the grave.

He found that being closer made him feel no better, in fact, he felt a little odd. There was a small mound of wet earth, under which was the form that had leaned on his arm and pinched his cheek. Slowly, his gaze moved upward, finally setting on the marker stone.

"Yomonoko Koyone," he spoke to no one in particular.

For some reason, knowing her name had made him feel a little better, though he didn't understand why at all. It hadn't seemed to matter when she was alive. He did know that he would not forget that name, and that he wouldn't let it be forgotten by others, either.

"Still here, Gaara?" came the somber voice of Ryoto, her son.

He didn't look away from the grave as the other man stood beside him, "Still here."

"I know I thanked you before," the older man started, "for protecting Mother while she was on the road, but I haven't realized until now how deeply indebted to you I am."

Gaara glanced over at the other man, "What do you mean?"

"If those men had taken Mother hostage like they planned," he said, "She would have died while being held captive. Because you helped her, she left this world in peace, and you allowed me to see her one last time. That is something that I cannot put a price on." Gaara took this in, but said nothing, opting to turn his head back to Koyone's grave. The man added, "I will be forever indebted to you for what you have done for me, and for her. If you ever need a favor, no matter what it is, come to me. I will do whatever I can to help you."

Nodding, but still saying nothing, Gaara knelt down, forming a small patch of sand under his knee to keep himself clean. After remaining like that for a moment, he whispered, "I…hope that you were correct about the girl who would love me as you did your husband. I will do my best to find her." After pausing for a moment, he looked up at the sky that had stopped raining. Looking back at the grave, he took his umbrella and set it so that it would shield the stone from the next rain, whenever it came. "Sayonara, Yomonoko Koyone. I am glad to have known you." With that he stood, turned, and walked away.

"Hey, Gaara," the old man called out to him, "What was it that you wanted to ask Mother that day? The question that you had to know the answer to."

The red haired boy stopped, and called back over his shoulder, "I wanted to know if she could have forgiven him."

"Who?" he asked after a moment.

"The man who killed your Father," Gaara replied, "If he had asked her forgiveness, I wanted to know if she could have given it to him."

"That's a hard thing to ask, Gaara," he said, "Forgiving someone for killing your loved ones is not an easy thing, not even for someone as strong as my Mother."

Nodding briefly, Gaara continued his walk. "I will return to visit her grave. I will see you then."

"Until then, Gaara," Ryoto said, "Be safe."

The young shinobi continued on in silence, pondering what Ryoto had said. Forgiving someone for killing your loved ones is not an easy thing. I wonder if I will ever be forgiven for everything I have done?

A/N

That chapter turned out longer than I expected. It also turned out better than I had expected. I hope that all of you enjoyed it.

From now on I'll be responding to reviews directly, so no more review responses in the AN.

Right now the chapters are more or less stand alone, sort of like individual short stories, but soon they will start to have effects on later stories and, like I said last chap, an overarching storyline will appear.

Well, I'll keep this AN short this time, so please review and I'll see you next chapter!

Katamari Damacy