(2022/04/12) Author's Note:

Hey everyone - once again I am adding chapters in the middle of a fic (sorry sorry).

This chapter - and newly added chapter 24 - were sitting in my drafts folder for a long time, and after some editing I decided I might as well add them to get rid of my "should I or shouldn't I?" dilemma. I swear, this is the last instance of me going back and adding new chapters to a completed fic. These chapters don't add anything new or retcon things that happen after these, but more so as a nice extra tidbit (hopefully).

As always, thank you for reading! xx

Chapter 16
In the Darkness

The forest to the northern border was a world Nomasaki had not seen in ages.

Only during her capture two years prior had she witnessed the lush green canopies of the trees above, the dewy texture to the grasses and mosses, and the fresh scent of pine and bark. She could smell a deer treading lightly nearby, but she had not come to the that day forest to hunt – she came for a different sort of prey. Donning her wolfish mask and her Suna flak jacket, she sat knelt by the body of a man they had been tracking for near a day's worth of searching. The missing-nin was an A-rank criminal in life, listed in the Bingo Book by foreign lands, and the chase they put up was hard to follow. But the criminal had a wolf on their trail, and their fate had soon caught up to them after years of evasion and deceit.

Nomasaki did not deliver the finishing blow, but she ripped open his stomach with a single snap of her jaws. It was only then that she realized her wolf-form had grown in size since the last hunt she took part in. She now stood larger than the coyotes and jackals known to feast on carrion in the desert, and her leg muscles felt stronger as she ran through the forest thicket. As their target pushed their exposed entrails back into their body, Tojiru appeared from the canopy and slice the man's throat in a haze of crimson death. Tojiru's eerie vulpine mask was sprayed by the dots of red, and the sight struck a certain fear into her when she looked him in the eyes while he stared her down as he did the killing act.

That's what he wants to do to me, she thought as she averted her attention back to the corpse.

It took near all of her focus to look away and get back to examining the body. As her first official tracking assignment without the commander, it was a feat for her to avoid gagging at the bloody scene laid out before her. But she had to remember that she was a shinobi – and if she felt ill from death, she was a coward. She had done several assignments with Commander Moro already, but without him leading, she found it challenging for her gag reflex. In her Bingo Book, she glanced back to the man's face one final time and checked if they were the same. Breathing slowly to ease her heart, she crossed out his face on the page and put it away in her pack.

"Hey, mutt!" Tojiru snapped. Drawing her back, he saw the uneasy look in her eyes through the slits of her mask. The bloody vulpine visage grinned. "You're a tracker-nin, not a butcher! We need the bodies intact for analysis with the Intel Division." He looked back to the body, shaking his head as his katana clacked into its scabbard. "And still, you don't have the stomach to kill… yet you maimed the poor bastard."

She felt her heart jump into her throat. "I didn't mean to -,"

"Tell me, wolf…" Tojiru crossed his arms, peering at her. "Have you ever tasted human flesh? Is that why you did it?"

The comment riled her blood.

He snorted a snide laugh. "Did I strike a nerve? I mean, you beasts do relish in devouring. Am I wrong?"

Before she could stand and defend herself, their owl-masked teammate appeared between them. "Tojiru, enough!" Owl-face spat. He then turned to her, his stance calmed. "Nomasaki, you're doing fine. Just be sure to get the formula right on the scroll before sending it to the Intel Division."

She breathed a silent sigh of relief. "Yes, sir."

Tojiru scoffed. "You're going too easy on her. She needs to learn her place as a rookie."

"Moro-sama has other plans." Owl-face spoke, his tone flat. "Kenzō-sama may be the one pulling the strings, but Commander Moro is who we answer to on missions like these."

"In that case… mutt!" Tojiru called, a snide laugh under his breath. "You're the one who's going to report to our commander! Try not to piss him off, you got it? Then again, I wouldn't put it past him."

Hearing his chuckling uneased her.

Although under the cover of her mask, Nomasaki could not deny the flurry of anxiety and fear that swirled inside her chest. The sight of the dead man was one thing, but it was another to deal with the likes of Tojiru for near an entire day of her watching her back like a hawk. The owl-masked tracker-nin was a rank higher than Tojiru and more even-tempered, but he had ties to Kenzō greater than the two – he was his messenger, the one who informed him on all the village's secrets. Nomasaki thought that may have been more dangerous than the threats Tojiru gave.

Words can cut through the thickest armour, she remembered the saying well.

She decided to not trust either of them.

A faint beam of sunlight entered the chamber.

The Suna Tracking Unit was located in the underbelly of the Intel Division that was connected through the secret weaving chambers to the Kazekage estate grounds. Pipes shrouded the aged and cracked sandstone ceiling above, leaving the chambers in desolate dark. Commander Moro was a large and tall man of frightening stature, clothed in a thick coat of black leather and mesh armour. Standing over six feet at the shoulder, the man had a hard face adorned in scars and burn blisters, with a scowl that was even more ruthless than Kenzō himself. His dark green hair was cut short and concealed by a makeshift turban, and his narrowed brown eyes were a strange combination. His demonic mask was strapped to the belt on his hip, while his unsealed eyes examined the body thoroughly. Nomasaki was never alone with the man before – save for her introduction. As she watched him glance over the remains with a trained eye, she felt her palms turn sweaty and her chest tighten.

He pulled the white sheet back over them. "The body is disemboweled…"

Nomasaki jolted. "It… It's not my fault -,"

"These things can't be helped." He sighed, lowering his head in tiredness. "But at least we caught the bastard."

Surprising her, he was not angry. Feeling bold, she stepped forward towards the sheet-covered body. "Commander Moro, if I can ask… who was he?"

Moro sighed again, putting his hands into his pockets while a glare eyed the table. "This man was once a high-ranking jonin officer. He became a missing-nin who fled following the Konoha Invasion, and sold our village secrets to Iwagakure." He scoffed. "Who knows who else he might've reached… I wouldn't put it past him to reach even the likes of Orochimaru."

"Orochimaru…?" The name struck her curiosity. But then, her memory jolted her. "Forgive me, sir. But is that the man who murdered the Fourth Kazekage?"

"I keep forgetting you're a foreigner." Moro glanced, eyeing the wolfish mask that covered her face. "He's a legendary shinobi from Konohagakure, and one of the three Sannin. Yes, he murdered Rasa-sama, the Fourth Kazekage, and assumed his identity in that invasion... by stealing his face and flesh. Konoha was nearly destroyed from him and his snakes, and their own Third Hokage died trying to fend him off." He turned back to the table, leaning over it as he continued his examination. He pushed away the sheet to view the man's slit throat. "A fearsome man, that snake. You would do well to remember that name… and avoid all that may lead you to him. He was known for collecting shinobi with Kekkei Genkai and experimenting on them… no doubt he would've went after you if you stayed on your mountain."

Nomasaki gulped.

That name was not one she would soon forget, if she could help it. The man who killed the powerful Fourth Kazekage – Gaara's father – and wielder of snake-ninjutsu. To think she may have been taken by a force different than Sunagakure struck a strange fear within her. She pushed away the thought, but the image burned into her mind.

"This handy work was from Tojiru…?"

Moro's voice made her flinch from her fear-stricken daze. She nodded, trying to sound as calm as she could manage. "Y-Yes, sir. I… couldn't do it. I only transported the remains."

"A shinobi who doesn't kill…" He sighed, a slight smirk on his scarred lips. "It's not every day we come across a new recruit who has self-control."

She eyed him, bewildered. "You're… not angry with me?"

"Kenzō-sama would be angry. I only care if the job is done." He spoke, frankly. "I'll begin the process for the Intel Division to step in… you're dismissed."

Bowing her head subtly, she turned on her heel for the exit.

"Outsider, wait a moment."

Pausing on her ascent to the stairwell, she turned back. "Sir?"

Moro met her glance, his eyes wary and narrowed in suspicion. "Watch yourself around Tojiru. He's one of your comrades, but he only serves Kenzō's interests. He's known for… crossing boundaries with his blade, so keep your wits about you."

Nomasaki took in his words, nodded, and kept on her way.

I know, she thought to herself, He wants me to be the one on that table… not the target.

And soon, she met the intruding sunlight through the cracked surface above.

By the time she made it to the streets, she realized it was the evening.

The streets were loud and rowdy, with merchants selling their wares, children running and weaving through the crowds, and shinobi of different ranks meeting each other for food at restaurant stalls, while the sake bars soon opened their doors to their nighttime customers. A pack of feral dogs saw her, barking and growling as she walked past. With her mask hidden with her pack, Nomasaki navigated the sand-ridden streets with her face exposed for all to see. Her glance was averted to the ground as she walked, hoping to not draw in the unwanted eye contact from passersby. The villagers did not care for her – mostly because they knew nothing of her. She was just a shinobi, but even some knew she was not of their lands. She thought it was best to avoid trouble – because trouble often seemed to find her one way or another. As she walked past a bustling sake bar, she was suddenly reminded of the men who ogled her that one night. Hanone was either waiting for her on her apartment's rooftop or he was out on a hunt in the desert – and she doubted he could come and help her if it happened again. The streets may have been crowded, but she would not put it past her that someone would take the opportunity to intrude regardless.

"Ah, it's you!"

Please leave me alone, she thought.

Pausing in her steps, she looked to the street-side and saw a young man exit a corner store with grocery bags in tow. It was only after she made eye contact that she realized it was her former sensei from her genin days. In her moodiness, she did not even think to tune in to her chakra senses – otherwise, she would have known it was him from the start.

"Hashira-sensei?"

Hashira gave a chuckle. "You look like you were expecting someone else."

He was not wrong. Averting her glance out of embarrassment, she nodded. "To be truthful, I thought you were one of the riffraff…"

"Sorry for sneaking up on you!" He apologized, laughing it off. "So, how are things? I met with Meiyumi and Shinto recently, and they said you were too busy to come out for BBQ. I take it your duties as a jonin are catching up to you, huh?"

More like my mistakes are catching up to me… with knives at my back waiting. She feigned a pleasant smile. "In more ways than less."

Hashira sighed a tired yawn, keeping his smile. "And you're also the Kazekage's assistant, too… on top of being a tracker-nin! For someone who started off as a civilian from an outside land, I have to admit I'm proud of seeing you and your teammates progress into fine shinobi!" After he saw her give a light smile back, he remembered something. "Do you have any plans to take on a team of your own someday? The academy is recruiting for sensei, we're low on teachers at the moment. I can put in a good word for you, if you're interested."

A teacher.

Nomasaki was bewildered by the proposition – but also humbled, in a way. Being a teacher to students would certainly be an enriching experience, but she felt she was too young and too inexperienced. She was not even sure if she was even fit for the rank of jonin, let alone an instructor at the academy. Sunagakure was in recovery still from the previous strife the village faced, and the village was only a fraction of its previous strength due to the heavy losses and penalties of the failed Konoha invasion from before she even arrived. But Nomasaki thought if she became a teacher, she would be lying to herself of her true readiness as a shinobi.

Putting on her best light smile, she declined. "N-Not at this time, Hashira-sensei. But… thank you, really. I might consider someday, but I feel like I still have a lot to learn as a Suna shinobi before I take on any student."

Hashira pondered. "You have a point there…" Remembering he had somewhere to be, her previous sensei picked up his grocery bags and turned towards home. "Anyways, I have to go. But how about we all get together for dango? Like old times as Team Hashira."

Nomasaki smiled. "I'd like that."

Hashira waved, smiling back. "Take care, Nomasaki!"

And he soon disappeared into the crowded streets at their backs.

As she watched him leave, her smile faded from her lips as she could sense the intruding chakra of tracker-nin scattered throughout the core of the plaza. Kenzō-sama's eyes and ears, she thought. Nowhere was safe – even friendly conversation, it seemed. Solemnly, she continued home.

When Nomasaki reached her apartment, she quickly locked the door and drew in the curtains. Hanone's chakra was outside the village walls, so she did not need to worry about speaking with the beast until morning. She undressed herself with hazy fingers, tiredness and stress sapping her of her remaining energy. When she saw how exhausted she was in the mirror, she thought the colour was near drained from her eyes. She appeared dead inside, a mere shell.

I might as well be that corpse, she thought.

Placing her wolfish mask into its box in her closet, she took a hot shower and ate some leftover beef and rice from the fridge. That night, she lay on her bed hugging her pillow tightly as if scared that someone would come and rip her out from the sheets. That night, she dreamt of knives following her, sand, and the life she was robbed of those three years ago.

She wished she never left the mountains – even if it meant dealing with a snake.

A crisp cool air graced the desert at daybreak.

Their paws pounded against the sands as they pursued their prey together. Nomasaki led the chase in her wolf-form, while Hanone followed behind in a steady thunder. Besides her summon, Nomasaki appeared a pup to the giant wolf – her form not even a third of his size. The prey was a camel, unsuspecting beyond the horizon of dunes. Its scent was fresh, thirst on its breath. Nomasaki's jaws watered in pursuit. Seeing the camel in her periphery, she dashed against the hot sands and chased it as the creature desperately tried to weave away from its predators. She saw an opening – snapping at its hind legs. Her fangs bit into its flesh, causing it to wail. In its panic, Hanone silenced the animal – his jaws engulfing its neck.

And the hunt was made.

Licking the blood from her muzzle, Nomasaki and Hanone feasted on their morning conquest. As she ate her breakfast, she wondered if it would be a foolish idea to leave behind her human life for the life of a beast. She could live in the forest unbothered by humans and shinobi, dealing with the few hunters who dared to pursue her pelt. Hanone would be with her, teaching her how to live as a wolf fully. And she could live a secluded life in a cottage somewhere in the wilderness – maybe even in the snowy mountains.

A foolish idea, she decided.

It was not long until they picked the carcass clean for the buzzards who watched upon the towering cacti. Hanone ate the bulk of it, while Nomasaki only managed a leg. As much as she enjoyed the hunt, a part of her worried she was too much a beast rather than human. If she was going to be a shinobi – and one of Suna, keeping her hunts to a minimum would be best. She did not want to be given any more reasons for the villagers to mistrust her - or think she was some sort of demon trapped within the body of a girl. For all she knew, there were probably some elders who thought as much. Her outsider-status was enough to brand her in a negative light. Perhaps next time she would opt for a bow and arrow, rather than a set of fangs and claws.

A chakra entered the wolves' senses, causing them to become alert.

Hanone took his stance, arching his back and snarling viciously. Nomasaki gave a slight snarl, but soon realized that the chakra belonged to two lowly merchants. They were clothed in rough-sewn ponchos and had their faces covered by turbans, and had scimitars on their hips. To her, they were not a threat in the slightest. To Hanone, they were in his way.

"Wolves!" The younger one reached for his blade. "Stay back, father! I'll take care of them!"

As he saw the glimmer of steel, Hanone lunged forward. "You measly bag of flesh!" He growled, barring his bloody fangs. "I'll crush your skull in my jaws!"

In one fell swoop, the giant wolf knocked the man down and sent his scimitar into the sands. A mighty clawed paw held him down in his struggle, while Hanone exposed his snarling muzzle and all the fanged teeth he had to bear. The man panicked, screaming, and pleading to be released – but Hanone did not listen. "Please, no!" He shouted, his voice shaking. "Release me, you beast! Father, run!"

"I'll silence you!" He growled, opening his massive jaws. "How dare you raise a weapon at me!"

Nomasaki changed into human form, racing as fast as her legs could carry her in the heavy dunes. "Hanone! Stop!" She shouted. "Don't!"

Just before his jaws could engulf the man's head, Hanone paused. Nomasaki stood in the dunes with her expression firm of conviction, panic and anger swirling behind her violet eyes as she reached towards the large wolf and his prey. "Please," She panted. "Don't hurt him." After a moment, Hanone relented. When he lifted his paw, the man coughed for air and near sobbed. Hanone stepped behind his master, returning to the carcass. Once he was gone, Nomasaki turned to the man with a pleading glance. "I'm sorry for what happened." She approached and reached a hand to help. "Are you… alright?"

The man slapped her hand away, his body trembling. "A-A demon!" He shouted, frightened. "Begone, ōkami!"

The words struck her.

Slowly, she took her hand back and let it fall back to her side. A cool wind passed by across the desert, flowing past her kimono and grazing her cheeks. Her face was clean save for the dried blood at the edge of her lip, and her dress' lap was a mess of sand. To the frightened man, she might as well have been a demon. As the man stumbled to his feet, he slipped down the dunes to his father and they retreated in a panicked haste. Nomasaki watched with hurt, her heart further conflicted. Surrendering, she started for the village.

"They interrupted our hunt…" Hanone grumbled as she walked past. "Damned humans…"

"Hanone, let's go back." She spoke, her voice low and quiet. "I'm not hungry anymore…"

Seeing his master walk towards the village gates in the horizon, the beast reluctantly followed. From the cover of the cacti, sand swirled around the Third Eye that Gaara summoned earlier that morning. In his office, he dispelled the jutsu and closed his eyes in solemn quiet.

And he saw all that transpired.

It was not long before the sun began to set.

Once his work was done for the day, Gaara summoned his assistant to his office. Although Nomasaki was not scheduled to work until the next morning, a pressing need in his thoughts pushed him to seek her out before the day was done. Standing by the window, he looked out towards the orange horizon that melted past the village cliffs. The weight sat on his chest heavily as he pondered the words, but he knew he did not have much time to recite the phrases mentally. Still, it was something that must be said to her – keeping it an unspoken truth would be unfaithful.

A slight creak sounded as Nomasaki entered the room. The messenger who retrieved her bowed their head and took their leave, closing the door as they departed. Nomasaki stood hesitant in the doorway for a moment before stepping to the middle of the room. She watched his back carefully, her senses trying to tune out Shukaku as best as she could as to not be distracted by its presence.

Timidly, she spoke. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes," Gaara said, turning to meet her.

As he met her glance, his eyes drifted towards the lap of her dress. Dirt and sand were splashed across it, merely hidden by the deep blue of the fabric. He saw a small hint of blood. Blood. His reflex kicked in, and he averted his glance at once. If he looked a moment longer, Shukaku might grow cocky and become restless. And the seal they shared danced a fine line between control and bloodlust rampage.

He looked back, but only looked at her face. "How was your hunt?"

Nomasaki's heart jumped, her gaze stunned. "How did you…?"

"I saw with my Third Eye." He turned back to the window, leaning against the windowsill. "Those two merchants went to the border guards in a panic. Rest assured, they've calmed down and have since went on their way."

Her panicked heart calmed. After a sigh of relief passed her lips, she looked down somberly. "Hanone has a… difficult temper. I'm sorry."

"If you hadn't intervened, there would have been a crisis." He firmed, his voice even. And luckily, he listened to her. Curiosity got the better of him, provoking a distraction from the Shukaku that dwelled in torment. "Do you hunt often?"

His question struck as a surprise, but she welcomed it. Nomasaki nodded, keeping a light smile, "Sometimes. It's… a habit from living in the north. We had to hunt to survive." She averted her glance, grasping her arm to shield her embarrassment. "I've… been here for almost three years, but these habits are hard to break." When Gaara did not respond and stayed fixated on the window, she hesitantly stepped closer. She could feel the one-tail's chakra nipping at the air between them, drawing her cautious guard. "Gaara-sama, what was it you wanted to speak with me about? I wasn't scheduled for work today, so I was just…-,"

When he turned to her, she saw the serious nature that dwelled within his ringed-eyes. She quieted, and spoke no more. As Gaara saw her expression, a rare guilt rose in his chest. His sternness receded, replaced by a vulnerability he was reluctant to share. But today, he decided to make an exception. "I summoned you because there's something I need to tell you… something I should've told you before your appointment as my assistant. You might already know, but I need to make sure…"

She rose a brow, cautiously curious. "What is it?"

"Are you familiar with my father, the Fourth Kazekage?"

"Somewhat. Why do you ask?"

Leaving the window, he met her in the room's centre. Meeting her wide violet eyes, he prepared himself. "You need to know my past… all of it." His glance narrowed. "There's more to me being a jinchuriki to Shukaku the one-tail. I was… a weapon created to serve the interests of this village." He looked down to his open palm, watching the sand grains smoothly float within his touch. "I had Shukaku sealed inside of me before I was born, and I killed my mother with my birth. My father, Rasa, the Fourth Kazekage, kept me isolated from my siblings and other children… training me to be the perfect shinobi. He was… a cruel man, and showed little affection. While he raised my brother and sister, I was raised by my uncle Yashamaru, who was a medical-nin with the Sunagakure ANBU. He was my mother's twin brother, and treated me as if I were his own. For a time, I was comforted. But then… it started."

Nomasaki eyed him, warily. "What started?"

"The attempts on my life." The words cut his tongue as he felt bitterness rise. "I was attacked by an assassin, and after I crushed them with my sands, I took off their mask only to find out it was my uncle. He said he lied to me the whole time, saying that he has always hated me for killing his sister – my mother." He crushed the sands in his palm, lowering his hand to his side. He averted his glance from her, looking down to the floor as his red hair shielded his expression. "My father… made him do it, and my mind unraveled. I have this mark on my forehead to remind me of my purpose… to kill in order to affirm my own existence. I've killed so many by my hand… with Shukaku eating away at my psyche if I dared to sleep. Gaara, the 'demon who loves only himself' became my purpose."

Nomasaki shivered, fear coating her face. "Why… Why are you telling me all this?"

"Because you need to choose," Gaara said, rising his head to meet her directly. His expression was one of firmness – stoic and stern. "Knowing the whole truth about who and what I am, and what I've done. If you're going to stay my assistant, you need to accept the risk of assassins and the like..." His expression eased, guilt marking his ringed-eyes. "…and the risk of Shukaku emerging. That's my fate as its jinchuriki."

Nomasaki looked down, her eyes flickering as she tried to process it all. She had heard scattered stories of his cruel acts from her comrades over the few years she was in Suna – the killings, the torment, and the lack of empathy of others. But to hear about the actions his father had done twisted like a knife – and she could not bear to understand it from Gaara's point of view. It was all too much for a single person to bear in one's life, even for a jinchuriki. She wondered if her father had been as cruel to abandon her and her mother – and there was no telling what else the man had done in his life before he vanished into the snows like a ghost. And for that, they shared at least something in common.

She felt sorry for him.

"But… you're not that same person, Gaara-sama. You're… not like that anymore." She glanced up at him, worriedly. "Are you?" Silence answered, and his expression remained the same. Guilt-ridden, and a face made of stone. Her concern made her tap into her senses again, assuring her nothing has changed. "I can't sense that darkness you spoke of around you, only Shukaku."

Gaara closed his eyes. "I was in that darkness… until I met a certain someone that my purpose had been defeated, and I left it all behind."

"Who was it?" She pressed, her fear no longer present.

"His name is Uzumaki Naruto, a Konoha shinobi." He said, opening his eyes. "He taught me that I could change my path… so I left the darkness and forged a new life for myself… by becoming Kazekage and uniting myself to the village." He narrowed his eyes, averting his glance away from her. "But my atrocities still remain part of me, and who I am. When I found you in the desert, it was merely months after that fight."

Nomasaki knew what he was trying to say. "If I found you sooner than that, I would have killed you." She gulped. "So those rumours about your rampages… they're true?"

"Yes. All of them." He met her sympathetic eyes, stoic once again. "The night Yashamaru betrayed me, I was possessed by Shukaku for the first time. Suna lost many lives… Only my father and his Gold Dust jutsu could stop me."

Nomasaki looked down and held her hands against her chest, quelling any fear that dared to rise. But her efforts were wasted as she still shivered from the answer. "I… can't believe it… That's so horrible. I had no idea…"

The sheen of her saddened eyes struck him. "Now you know," He sighed. "You know the entire truth of it. I must ask you… has your loyalty changed? You can tell me, Nomasaki."

Surprising him, she dropped her hands and stepped forward. Her timid eyes met his curious glance, her expression brave and unwavering. "I trust you, Gaara-sama. You are the Kazekage, and to you I promise my loyalty as your assistant. Remember – you are also my friend... Please, don't forget that."

Gaara's lips formed a slight smile. "Nomasaki,"

And she smiled back, assured that nothing has changed.

A rush of sudden darkness overcame her.

Before she could grasp it, she found herself face to face against the one-tailed tanuki in his sacred chambers within Gaara's seal. Gaara was nowhere to be seen from her frantic searching, and the realization struck that Shukaku wanted her alone. She trembled at the sight of him, his chakra overwhelming her senses.

"Don't think I don't know what you're playing at, you mutt!" Shukaku bellowed, quaking the water they stood upon. "I can sense your chakra all throughout the corridors… you were the one hidden amongst the shadows that night!" The beast lowered its posture as if to lunge, growling at her tiny form. "You've been warned, mutt… Next time you try to stalk from the shadows, I'll ignore Gaara's will and kill you myself!"

And the water rushed to swallow her.

When she blinked, she was back in Gaara's office.

Her breath gasped slightly, but she maintained a straight face and tried to swallow the fear that rose into her throat. Gaara noticed her faded expression, seeing the fear glimmer behind her strange purple eyes. But he was unaware of why – and why out of nowhere. Shukaku's chakra might have risen too high, he thought, Seeing the blood might have excited the tailed-beast.

The door suddenly opened.

"I didn't think you were working late -," Kankurō entered, drawing their instant attention. When he saw the foreigner in his midst, he was caught off guard for a moment. "Oh, it's you."

Gaara noticed the wariness in his dark eyes. "Kankurō, this is Nomasaki. She's my assistant, I don't think you've formally met."

"I remember you," Kankurō said, a slight smirk on his lips. "The outsider, right? Temari said you're the only new jonin who could keep up with her training."

Timidly, Nomasaki nodded. "Y-Yeah, that's me."

"We're going for dinner at the plaza," Kankurō asked, turning back to his brother. "You in?"

It was at this point Nomasaki decided to leave. She made her way to the open doorway quietly, and paused to give a feigned light smile to the Kazekage as she parted. "I'll be taking my leave. I'll… see you tomorrow."

And the door closed behind her.

"Uh-huh," Kankurō sighed, putting his hands into his pockets. "Just as Temari said... she's a strange one."

Gaara turned. "How so?"

I'm not surprised you of all people don't see it, Kankurō thought. "Come on, let's go before Temari is pissed we're late."

The chamber was adorned in shadows.

Surrounding the large iron doors that night, two masked tracker-nin guarded the entry from any who dared to cross the basement corridor. It was untouched for decades by the council and Kazekage clan, used only by Kenzō and his subordinates that swore him their fealty and undying service. It was once known as the 'chambers of Reto', where the First Kazekage would have his secret meetings with shinobi who were in his inner circle. But now it was the place for rats, spiders, dust, and all those who dwelled in the darkness.

Kenzō stood overlooking the body as it laid motionless on a sandstone altar, as a tall man cloaked in black examined his Bingo Book. The man's face was hidden by shadow, revealing only the unnatural sheen of his green eyes. His gloved finger paused at the description of the criminal, and he closed his book firmly and placed it back into his cloak.

"Is this the one you've been looking for?" Kenzō questioned.

The man nodded, his glance fixated on the dead man. "That scar on his shoulder, burned forearm… Yes, it's the A-rank I've been hunting." He scoffed at the sight of his exposed entrails. "But my bad luck, one of your trackers got him first." His eerie eyes saw the shine of the blood that coated his throat. "Twice, it seems. He appears he met his end by seppuku."

Kenzō scoffed, humoured. "My underling made some of my subordinates hunt him down, against my wishes."

"Moro, eh?" The man turned. A harshness lay on his voice, deep and dark as the shadows themselves. "It's been a while since I fought against someone with the Scorch Release…"

"Not yet." Kenzō firmed, sharply. "I still need him for my plans, he's a valuable pawn."

"More valuable than the ryo for his head?"

"The Fourth Kazekage placed me in charge of the unit – Moro is my figurehead, my puppet. Although, he's a reluctant one. He's trying to steal my underlings from me… When he crosses that line, I'll send for you to collect his head."

The man chuckled, darkly. "An 'accident', is it?"

"Like the Fourth," Kenzō agreed. "And for now, the wolf-girl is mine. I know you've been searching as well, but she is not to be harmed. I need her alive - and intact. She is also a valuable pawn to the cause, and I don't want to waste my good pawns for dealings such as these... or potential bargains to the snake." Watching his guest seal the corpse into his scroll from his pack, his dark eyes narrowed. "Speaking of which, any word on the whereabouts of Orochimaru?"

"None." Clapping his hands together, the body swirled into the scroll without a trace. Standing with the scroll in hand, the tall, cloaked man eyed the councillor. "Not even Sasori can tap into his spies. The bastard undid every seal." His gloved hand reached into his pocket, returning with an envelope stuffed with paper bills. It was worth ten million ryo. "I take it you want your cut…" As Kenzō took his share, the man gave a dark look. "And the jinchuriki?"

"He's unaware, but his position as Kazekage makes it difficult to make any… risky moves. My spies are in their right places. Soon enough, their seals will release along with the ones Sasori planted years ago before he defected… and the operation can finally begin." Kenzō watched his back as he took his leave. "I take it they're on their way?"

"Yes." The cloaked man paused. "I would hunt him myself right now, but I made an oath with this organization to only hunt the two-tails. I can't pursue my target until Sasori pursues his… the man has a foul temper when provoked."

Kenzō was not keen to forget. "That, I remember."

Distantly, he was reminded of that fateful day. When he entered the chambers alone, he saw the red-haired young man towering over the fell body of their village's strongest shinobi – the Third Kazekage. Poison of wolfsbane dealt the blow that killed him, and not even his impenetrable Iron Sand could save him from such a fate. When Sasori saw him, he was poised to strike the councillor – but instead, Kenzō offered him safe passage to the desert and an opportunity to join forces.

He knew it was best to keep his enemies closer.

As the cloaked man approached, the masked tracker-nin of lizard and cat faces stepped aside. When the door opened, a sliver of scattered torchlight illuminated his hard face. Concealed by a grey hood, all that could be made out of his expression was his tan skin and unsettling green eyes. And a fragment of red was sewn to his cloak, appearing as if a cloud.

"As always, I thank you for the business and coin." The man said, his voice low and dark. "I'll be back for the next one soon enough…"