Okay, so there are only about three more chapters left in this story and I want to get it over with before school starts up again in the fall! Here's hoping. And as for reviewers, I'd like to thank Meira Evenstar, ak, Senyor Fier Mensheir, and angiesmile.

Like I plan to do with all my other stories, I have gone back and fixed mistakes and formatting in all the previous chapters. Man that took forever! I apologize to those who have read those chapters previously, because they were awful. My sentences were too long, I was obsessed with the word "slightly," I went comma crazy, and I made lots of the naive mistakes you don't want to make. Anyway, it feels good to have this story up to par with my abilities now, and I'm amazed that people actually read the story up until now because I made so many stupid mistakes. Gah!

Anyway, please enjoy.

Hanshara woke up feeling sore. She sat up in bed and gently but firmly massaged some feeling back into her injured thigh and forearm. Sakura had said that in order to keep the muscles working together properly she had to make sure and exercise them despite the pain. Therefore, she and Gaara spent the better part of yesterday running through drills specifically designed for their injuries. Hanshara would have preferred resting their first day back in Suna, but Sakura had recruited Temari into making sure they carried out her orders. Temari could really scare her sometimes.

Once her limbs felt loose enough for the day, Hanshara walked over to her dresser. She glanced at the picture frame and smiled. Before she exercised with Gaara, Temari dragged the two of them along with Kankuro to get their photo taken. Because of all the excitement with her first official mission Hanshara had completely forgotten about the blonde's promise.

Nothing really spectacular happened, but she finally had something tangible to represent the family she had gained. She and Gaara were in front, with Temari behind her and Kankuro in back of Gaara. Kankuro had his arm resting on Gaara's head while Gaara had his arms folded and graced the camera with his impassive stare. Hanshara could see the twinkle in his eyes that meant he was happy though. Temari was tightly grasping her shoulder and grinned with the powerful confidence she never seemed to run out of.

Hanshara opened her top drawer and pulled out a spare weapon pouch. Inside it were her life savings and it had grown rather large. For weeks she had been saving the money she made at her janitorial job as well as the odd D-rank missions she had been given by the council. No Kazekage had been chosen yet, so most matters were dealt by them. The absence of a Kazekage was quite surprising, and Hanshara wondered how many candidates they had in mind. Usually the decision didn't take this long, from what she'd heard.

The girl poured out the money and recounted it, despite the fact that she had already done so yesterday. After turning in her report she had gotten paid for the mission, and she had been quite satisfied with the amount. It wasn't much, but certainly more than the D-rank missions provided.

"I've finally got enough," she whispered to herself. Hanshara grinned in spite of herself and scooped all the money back into the pouch before having a small breakfast. Ordinarily she would have gone to work at the store, but there were some technical repairs that needed to be done and she wasn't needed. It meant that there was one less paying day, but it provided a perfect opportunity to accomplish some overdue tasks.

A few hours later found Hanshara in the graveyard, kneeling in front of a rather small stone monument. It wasn't as fancy as all the other surrounding monuments, but it suited Hanshara well enough. She traced the recently carved figures in the stone and smiled. It read "Kurenzai Takuto and Kurenzai Yuki."

"Now you've finally gotten a proper burial place," Hanshara said aloud. Of course, her parents' actual remains were nowhere to be found because she had never seen her parents since they died, and being five years old she wouldn't have been able to cremate them anyway. For the past eleven years their resting place had been in an abandoned alleyway, with a simple rock as the headstone. For remains Hanshara had buried her father's work gloves and mother's brush, which still had some strands of hair in it.

From her savings, she had just enough money for the smallest monument. The carving cost extra, but she knew she would be able to do a good enough job with a chakra-enhanced kunai. Because her parents were not shinobi, the monument was in the civilian part of the graveyard, which she actually preferred. Shinobi had their names carved on a joint monumental stone, and the one she purchased felt a little more personal.

"I wish you could see me now," she said wistfully. "You wouldn't believe what I've been able to do. And I'm sure you could have been able to be a shinobi dad—if anyone had been nice enough to allow it. You would have been one of the best." A few tears ran down her cheek. "I promise I will! I'll never be as good as Gaara, but I'm try my hardest!" She glanced at her mother's name.

"I don't know how you'd feel about me being a kunoichi though. You were always against me getting food by myself but you realized it was necessary. I guess it's necessary now as well, because this is the only way I can have a better life." She sighed. "Flowers are hard to come by, so I wasn't able to bring the two of you one, and I'm sorry. I hope this is good enough though."

Hanshara withdrew some special sand she had brought with her and molded it into the shape of an intricate rose. Then she closed her eyes and clenched her hands tightly as the sand before her came together and hardened. Soon it was hard as a rock and Hanshara laid it gently before the monument.

"I love you."

Feeling satisfied, Hanshara stood up and bowed before the grave, promising to visit as often as she could. A light breeze tickled her face and she glanced off into the distance.

There was one more thing she needed to do.

Hanshara took a deep breath, willing herself to step inside. It will be easy, she reasoned, Go in, get what you want and make your point, then leave as quickly as possible. Expelling all the air and pasting a fake smile on her face, she pushed open the door and entered.

The room was musty, remnant of an old melding workshop. The floors were covered in numerous display cases full of various objects ranging from antique jewelry to everyday house tools. As she glanced about the shop, she noticed that she was the only customer there presently, which she figured was for the better. Suddenly she found what she was looking for and eagerly snatched it from the table and held it up in the light, transfixed by the reflected glare from the tiny metal figure.

"You like it?" a gruff voice asked, trying to be pleasant. Hanshara's blood ran cold, and she found herself trying very hard not to hyperventilate. That voice . . . That voice that plagued her memories, that voice that terrified her very soul—that voice that leaked with pure evil.

She gulped and put on the fake smile. "Yes, it's exactly what I was looking for," she announced happily, turning up to look at him. He was exactly as she had remembered; burly figure with long hair that now held gray streaks and his hard, calculating face now had a couple wrinkles.

"Is that all you'd like, miss?" Wow, didn't know you could be so cordial, she thought maliciously. Must be really killing you.

"Yes, that would be all." At least for now. As she followed the man to the register, she noticed two boys and a girl running around, all about the same age, all whom were obviously the man's children. What was more, it appeared that the woman standing next to him organizing merchandise on the counter was his wife. Hanshara gulped. That would complicate her plans a bit.

The woman gave her a warm smile. "How are you dear?" she asked happily. Hanshara decided that she liked this woman; she was kind and very beautiful, with lovely sand-colored hair that fell about her face delicately and she also carried herself about with dignity, despite the fact that she wore a simple tunic with a washed out apron.

"Fine. Are these all yours?" The woman chuckled.

"Yes, and they're all triplets." That proved to be true; all three ceased tinkering with the wooden toys and ran up to Hanshara as if she were a friend they could play with.

"Oi, nee-san! Did you come here to buy stuff?" one little boy asked, remnants of lunch still evident around his lips. Onigiri by the looks of it.

"Don't bug the poor girl," their mother scolded from behind the counter. "Give her some room."

"It's all right," Hanshara chuckled, not at all bothered by the kid's curiosity.

"What's your name?" the other boy asked, who was the cleanest of the three.

Here I go. "You can call me Hanshara," she smiled, placing a hand on the second little boy's head and messing up his hair slightly. Then she glanced up with a grin on her face.

"But your father," she said through clenched teeth (putting as much "pleasant" bitterness into each syllable), "can call me Emmy." The effect was immediate. All the color drained from the man's face in an instant and he stared back at the devilish smirk with utmost horror. He found he could no longer breathe and beads of sweat started forming on his scalp; his whole body began to tremble.

His wife frowned, clearly understanding she was missing something, then turned to face her husband and was even more confused. "What is she—"

"I haven't forgotten," Hanshara continued, still glaring at the man with her fiendish smile. She lifted up her shirt and exposed the ragged scar that cut across her chest. The man's eyes widened, and his wife gasped, putting her hand over her mouth. Hanshara had made sure to keep the scar out of the kids' sight.

"Oh, and one more thing," Hanshara explained, putting her shirt down and extending out her hand, "I took what you carved on my parent's bodies to heart, and have fully embraced my ancestry." With that she detached the sand that had been previously stuck against her skin with chakra and sent it towards the bag that held her purchase, carefully yanking it out of the man's grasp before pulling it back towards her. Once it was in her possession, she caused the small amount of sand to go back and it roughly deposited the exact cost of the transaction on the counter, the coins clanging and rolling off onto the floor.

Hanshara waited a second longer, still staring at the man with as much vehemence as possible, then grinned happily and waved. "Bye!" she declared before turning away and leaving the shop. When she got to the door the kunoichi stole a quick glance back to the counter, and noticed with delight that the man looked like he had just seen a ghost while his wife was standing next to him, the realization of what her husband did etched out in horror across her face. The kids stood there confused, not sure what was going on but knowing that it couldn't be good.

Glad we could have settled that, monster. With that, she quickly vacated the shop and as she walked back through the streets, took the object out of the bag and examined it. The necklace was as beautiful as ever with the Suna symbol gleaming in the sunlight.

Soon she reached the gravesite, and once she found her parent's grave knelt down before it.

"I finally did it, mother . . . father," Hanshara whispered, running her fingers over the names etched in stone. "You can be at peace now." Then she unclasped the necklace and re-attached it firmly around her neck, fingering the metal once it was safe and secure, then burst into tears that progressed into full out sobs.

It had been torture there, standing next to the man who killed her parents, knowing that he had walked free all these years. He had been able to marry a beautiful woman and have three children with her, knowing all along what he had done. At least now, his wife had an idea of whom she had married.

All the time she was there with him, her fingers were itching to perform Sabaku SouShu. It would have been easy and hardly any effort would have been used on her part. However, she knew it would not be proper to sink to his level, and the result of her preferred course of action would have a greater lasting effect than simply killing him.

Suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder, and upon glancing up discovered it was Gaara, staring at her in bewilderment. She smiled weakly and tried to brush off her behavior, only to erupt into more sobs. Gaara crouched down and embraced her, not needing words to express his concern. He knew that she missed her parents, though he could tell that something else was bothering her. Hanshara was like his sister Temari in many ways, one of which being that it took a lot for them to show personal emotions.

"Would you like to come to dinner?" he asked once she had calmed down sufficiently.

"Depends on who's cooking," she joked. Gaara looked worried.

"You really wouldn't come if Kankuro cooked?" he asked in amazement.

Hanshara sighed and rolled her eyes. "We still need to work on your understanding of sarcasm."

"Kankuro and Temari left for an urgent meeting a while ago, so they should be returning soon," Gaara explained when they entered the kitchen.

"Does it have to do with Akatsuki?" Hanshara asked. She poured two glasses of water and gave one to Gaara who shrugged.

"Baki came to get them, and even he didn't know what it was about. Just that it was important."

To bide time, the two of them discussed the previous mission; what when wrong, what went well, and how they could adjust their training to avoid the same mistakes. When they were discussing various kunai attacks, there was a loud rap on the door. Gaara opened it only to find one of the council's message chuunin.

"You have been summoned to join the discussion your elder siblings are currently engaged in," he announced.

"I will come." Gaara glanced over his shoulder. "Will you be all right?"

Hanshara waved him off. "I'll be fine. You go and I'll have dinner waiting for the three of you. How does yakitori and sashimi sound?" Gaara nodded before following the chuunin to the council room. The kunoichi cracked her knuckles and faced the refrigerator.

"Now, let's see if I can make this without setting the food on fire."

All right! Glad to have gotten that out of the way. I always luv it when people get what they deserve, though sadly it doesn't happen enough in the real world. That's what fanfiction is for though! Can anyone guess what the meeting is about? Brownie points if you can!