DISCLAIMER: I do not own Naruto nor Claymore.

I didn't want to change the rating of the Tsukuyomi story to Mature, so I created this chapter separately for those of you 18 and above people who wanted the love scene in detail. I trust you know which part it is in this chapter.

Onwards…

Chapter 4 Mature Edition

The organization member entered into the chamber of the tribunals. He bowed before the three leaders and waited.

"We've come to a decision," said the first. "The organization's number one cannot be seen having relations with this little girl."

"Here is our ultimatum," said the second while holding up a parchment. "Give it to her. If she accepts, then the matter will be settled."

"And if she refuses, my lord?" asked the member.

"Then have her killed," answered the third.

They had started their trek up the mountains by midday after saying their farewells with the villagers. Gray and Teresa had gotten into a slight argument because Gray insisted that they bring food along.

"You're wasting time. We can just hunt food for Clare."

"Mm-hmmm, and waste precious energy hunting for food when we could just bring some along? Don't be so hardheaded, claymore. Not all of us are embedded with yoma."

Although Clare agreed with the cloaked man, she didn't voice out her opinion because she didn't want Teresa to perceive her siding with Gray, so she kept silent.

The gradient was not yet steep, and the three travelers had a good easy-going pace with the cloaked man in the lead, followed by Clare, and lastly by Teresa. Other than the tall grass and the closely bunched trees, no other creature stirred on the mountainside.

Clare had been hungry since the last hour, but opted not to say a word. However, the low rumbling sound from her stomach betrayed her. The group stopped along a small, flat clearing and started a fire to warm up the food.

"If we hadn't brought along food, you'd still be out there hunting," the wanderer stated.

"You underestimate me, Gray."

"No I'm not. It's that I don't think we can find anything to hunt in this area. It was the same when I first passed. I didn't see any mountain goats…birds…even butterflies. It's just…odd."

"Maybe it's because the winter season is coming, Mr. Gray," added Clare.

"Ah, I see…Yuck! I think something rotted! But I was sure to pack the meals carefully," Gray said, wrinkling his nose while rummaging through his pack.

"I don't smell anything," Clare said while looking over his shoulder.

Teresa suddenly sat upright. "Gray, I sense yoma. Take Clare and run for the village."

The cloaked man sniffed one last time, grimaced, then said, "How many are there? Maybe we can take them on."

She closed her eyes for a moment to be more accurate, then said, "About twenty-three…no…twenty-seven. It's strange to find a pack this large. I can take them on by myself, but looking out for Clare will distract me and I don't know how capable you are in fighting."

"Fair enough," replied the wanderer. He quickly packed up the food as he kicked gravel on the flames. "In case we run into one, how do I kill it?"

"The quickest way is to sever its head."

"Noted. Come on Clare, climb on my back," Gray said as he squatted to give the child easier access.

"Teresa…" Clare called out softly.

The claymore cupped the child's cheek, smiled, then said, "You've seen me handle yoma before."

Clare smiled in return and tightened her grip on the cloaked man's back.

"Which direction is the village?" he asked as he stood up.

"West. Head northwest for about a kilometer, then head straight for it. You'll have a wider berth that way. Now go."

"Okay," he nodded and added, "Claymore…we'll be waiting."

"I know," she replied as she drew her broad sword, "and Gray…"

He stopped tightening his pack and gear to look at her.

"…earn my trust."

His smile reached his eyes, the shadow of his hood not dark enough to hide them, and replied, "I will."

And with that, he ran.

Teresa closed her eyes to check again the yoma's position, confirmed her advice to Gray was correct, twirled her sword once, and charged in for the attack.

After reaching the kilometer mark, the cloaked man turned west and said, "Hold on tightly."

He jumped on a nearby tree, and proceeded to jump from tree branch to tree branch.

"Wow! You're pretty fast, Mr. Gray," Clare observed.

"I've got strong legs, kiddo."

"Not as fast as Teresa though."

At this, the cloaked man chuckled.

"Twenty-six," she counted as the yoma's head slid off its neck. She used her senses to zero in on the last one, spiked her speed, and sliced below the yoma's knees as she flew past him.

The creature hissed and writhed in agony as dark blood slowly began to pour out of its open wounds. The claymore walked calmly before it and pierced her sword at the creature's thigh.

The creature cried out, and flailed its arms about frantically in hopes of dragging itself away from her.

"Where were you headed?" asked Teresa.

The creature hissed with hatred, saliva pouring out of its mouth.

"You claymores…thinking so highly of yourselv—gaaaaaahhhhh!"

Teresa had twisted her sword, widening the wound even more.

"I don't have time for speeches," she declared. "Answer my questions, and I will grant you a swift death."

The creature's frantic flailing became feeble, as surrender consumed its eyes. It looked at her then said, "We were headed for the village just below the mountain."

"Why were there so many of you?"

"It was a small raiding party. Food was dwindling down…we were supposed to bring them back."

"Bring what back? Food? Where?"

"Yessss…food. Back to our village."

A feeling of dread consumed Teresa. "Where is your village?"

"We took over the village beh…behind the mountains. We pretend to be humans and prey upon travelers that pass through there, but none have come in the recent months."

"Oh no…" she despaired. She sliced the creatures head with one blow as promised, accessed her yoki, and sped as fast as she could towards the village, praying that she would make it in time.

Soon, the village came into view. Gray jumped over the village perimeter from a tree branch and headed for the center in an easy jog. He passed by some villagers who stared at him and the child intently. Nearing the center, he spotted a bald-headed man who was calling out orders to some men piling haystacks.

"Excuse me, sir. Are you the village head?" Gray asked.

The man turned around slowly at the cloaked man, smiled suddenly, and ran towards them with open arms with the intention of giving the pair a hug. "Visitors! Welcome! Welcome to our humble village!"

As the head villager neared, the cloaked man's nose twitched.

"Clare, close your eyes," Gray instructed.

"Why?" asked the child who still clung onto his back.

"Just do it," came the calm reply.

As the child obeyed, she felt a sudden gush of wind around her.

The villager had nearly encircled his arms around the newcomers. His nails suddenly grew razor sharp, and veins on his arms bulged out. His teeth sharpened, his skin turned dark brown, and his eyes turned golden and cat-like. The transformation completed, he clawed inwards, slashing through flesh and bone like butter.

The yoma, in a fit of hungered excitement, did not notice that it had clawed through a wooden log. It roared out in anger as it threw the log aside, and began searching for its prey.

"What's going on? What's happening?" asked Clare, unaware that they were now on the rooftop of the highest building overlooking the village.

"That man was a yoma. Everyone's transforming. It's a whole village of yoma. Clare, I need for you to keep your eyes closed, okay?"

"Okay," she replied with a shudder.

"Don't worry. I'll protect you," he said. He then formed a hand seal, and looked on as hundreds of cloaked men began cleansing the village.

When Teresa reached the perimeter, she used her broadsword to make a hole through the wooden wall. She first saw the blood smeared everywhere, but didn't find any bodies.

"CLARE! GRAY!" she called out.

She went past the first set of lined houses to be greeted by more smeared blood, yet no bodies. What the hell happened? She flared her senses to detect any yoki but found none. Everything was dead calm.

She heard the crackling of fire and headed towards it. The sound led her to the center of the village and was amazed at what was before her.

Hundreds of yoma bodies were piled up and set aflame. "CLARE! GRAY!" she called out once more.

She heard a door creak open on her left far side.

"In here!" the cloaked man called out.

She rushed towards the house and barged through the door looking frantically for Clare.

The child was sleeping on a bench and seemed unharmed.

"What the hell happened?" she asked softly so as not to wake the child.

"Well," he began while scratching his head as he sat down on a bench, "all the villagers here turned out to be yoma. I had my hands full."

"How many were there?"

"Ummm…I lost count after sixty something."

"Sixty…by the gods…Gray…just what ARE you?" she asked with an incredulous look.

"Shhh! Not so loud or you'll wake up Clare," he scolded. "Let's continue this outside."

She looked at Clare once more to make sure the child was comfortable, then followed Gray who had gone ahead.

"I chose this house because it stank the least. And as an added bonus, the pantry was fully stocked with dried goods!" he smiled as he faced the claymore.

"ENOUGH!" she shouted. "I've had enough of your mysterious crap! You start telling me the truth or so help me, I'll beat you unconscious!"

She felt more than saw the raised eyebrow from him, since she couldn't see his eyes because of that damn hood.

He slowly straightened his shoulders and leaned his head to a side until she heard a crack before straightening it back.

"I don't think you can do it," he stated.

Her eyes narrowed. She unsheathed her claymore and pointed it at him. "You could've just answered my questions. I won't be holding back."

He shrugged, and then said, "Whatever."

This only added to her aggravation. Who did he think he was? One did not joke with claymore, especially with the rank 1. If she asked a question, she expected an answer. If she met resistance, she used force, and this had never failed her.

She balanced her footing then flashed towards him with sword held at the ready for the horizontal strike. She saw him reach for something in his cloak and threw it at her.

Projectiles!

She rolled towards her left, and used the momentum to stand from the roll. She saw his hand make another throw from her peripherals. The claymore hummed as she twirled it with incredible speed. The clang of metal sounded as the projectiles were deflected and strewn aside. She looked at them and saw strangely shaped knives, the blade obviously heavier for throwing guidance followed by a metal stem, and with a metal ring base. These weren't like the ones he had used to block her broadsword.

He'd have to teach her how to throw knives like that. Having the claymore, though invincible, still forced her to attack in short range. Yes, she'd make him teach her…that is…if he survives.

She raced towards him once more, with the broadsword held high.

He merely stood there…waiting…

She brought the sword to bear, knowing full well that the vertical slice would kill him if he didn't do anything, and struck down.

Her strike was stopped midway.

That knife had finally come to play. She gazed at the strange ebony knife on his left hand with the blade pointed out. The handle was a makeshift brass knuckle, and the blade a mere extension from it. Her blade had been caught between one of the grooves of the knuckles, and the entire knife was encompassed by a soft ethereal distortion.

The cloaked man deflected her sword aside, and charged at her with left hand cocked back for what appeared to be a punch. Using the momentum of deflection, she maneuvered the sword for the underhand grip to use the handle to butt him with.

They struck in unison.

The underside of the knife was a mere inch from the side of her head, and would've hit her had she not cocked her head to the side. She felt the caress of the ethereal distortion against her skin and was surprised to find wind running softly against her cheek.

She had planned to use the sword's pommel in hitting his stomach but it was blocked. She looked down and saw the second trench knife. There's the second one…

She retreated a pace then leapt in the air, spinning with blade extended. The dervish dance neared the cloaked man, and as the tip neared to cutting distance, his body simply…flickered out of sight.

She landed on the earth violently and spun to a halt three paces from her landing point with swirls of punished soil at her wake.

She spotted him on the roof of the nearest house and threw her sword at him. She saw the wraithlike distortion extend along the knife, and it took on a sharper shape. When the thrown sword came within range, he lashed out. The distortion came into contact with the sword, and the clang rang out mightily, sending the sword twirling back to land before Teresa with the tip pierced into the earth.

She suddenly felt a presence to her left, and was shocked to see the cloaked man there. Teleportation? She looked back up at the rooftop and still saw the cloaked man with the trench knives.

There were two of them? How could it be possi…

The punch to her gut took the breath out of her. She began to crumple, but was caught by the second cloaked man. The first one jumped down, holstered the knives and walked towards them.

The second one laid her to the ground softly, and disappeared in tendrils of smoke.

The first one knelt beside her, touched her stomach softly and asked, "Are you hurt much?"

"No…it was more of shock than anything else." She chuckled, but stopped with a grimace, her stomach still aching. "Unbelievable…a rank 1 beaten by a single man."

He smiled down at her. "Well, I sort of cheated. And you really didn't know my fighting style, so it was an unfair fight," he said softly.

A bit of dirt had marred her cheek. He softly wiped it away with a finger while gazing intently at her silver eyes.

She reached a hand up to remove the hood. For some reason, she wanted to see his face without the distraction.

He allowed it.

She cupped the same hand on his cheek, and used her thumb to trace one of the scars.

He closed his eyes as she did this. He sighed, and seemed to come to a decision. He looked at her silver eyes once more and said, "My name is Uzumaki Naruto. I am a shinobi from a village called Konoha…"

Claymore felt no emotion. They were sharp, invincible soldiers created to exterminate yoma. Merely tools of war...but she just could not help herself…

"Hi there…"she whispered as she guided him towards her lips and kissed him with a passion that claymores were not known to have.

The kiss was slow but not lacking in intensity. He drew back, looked at her eyes once more, then lowered his head to kiss her forehead, then her nose, her eyes, her cheeks, her chin, and slowly trailed kisses down her neck as he maneuvered himself above her.

Her eyes fluttered with desire…

She hungered for him. She hungered for his touch…hungered for the feel of his skin under her fingers…hungered for him as a woman…

She could feel the sinewy muscle beneath the cloth and could hardly contain her impatience. She slowly drew her hands down towards his belt and felt for the handle of the trench knife, and withdrew it slowly.

Surprised, he stopped, and looked at her questioningly.

She deftly brought the knife to his neck and looked at him as she cut the tying cord of his cape. Next, she cut the buttons off his vest. And lastly, the buttons off his under tunic.

She dropped the knife aside. She would need both her hands for this.

She touched his chest, exploring its shape and crevices. She traced her hands along his muscled abdomen, and caressed the hairs below his belly button.

His breathing became heavier as did hers. He fingered the latch of her shoulder armor and looked at her, seeking permission.

She granted it with a nod and a shy smile.

He unclasped the latch, and lifted it over her head. Helping him, she raised her body slightly of the ground, grabbed his hand as he set the armor aside, and guided it behind her shoulder blades to find the zipper. As he guided it lower, it was necessary for her to lift her body further. Her breasts heated from the contact with his chest, and detested her clothing for it. She removed her wrist guards behind his back, making the excuse of pushing herself against him further.

He removed the sleeve off one shoulder and kissed it, then sought out her mouth to kiss it again. He gently pushed her back down with the kiss, and a hand behind the small of her back to guide her.

He slowly dragged the white cloth down and kissed any new creamy white skin that was bared.

She closed her eyes. She did not want to see the pity in his eyes when he would see the scars on her body. The upper white cloth had now been fully removed, and she could feel the grains of soil beneath her naked back.

"Teresa…" he whispered, "…look at me…"

She opened her eyes and saw no pity in his. She saw only affection and warmth. She lifted her hands and pulled him down once more for a kiss, not having enough of him…never having enough of him…

He drew back yet again, smiled at her and lowered his head to her right breast. He kissed the scar that ran across it, and gently licked the nipple. He loved the gasp he heard from her, and did the same for the other breast. Her hands were running gently across his hair. And when he looked up at her, he smiled to see her glazed eyes.

Feeling bold, he continued by kissing the scars along her stomach, as his hands unlatched the clasp of her metal skirting. Sensing his actions, she raised her hips to help him and kicked off her boots.

He slowly inserted his fingers on the waistband of her pants and felt her shudder adorably at the contact. Slowly…gently…he pulled it down until she was completely bared beneath him.

He slowly straddled her waist, knowing that she would not like being naked alone. He removed his cloak, vest, under tunic, and waited for her. She sat up, knowing what he wanted, and slowly unclasped his belt. He slowly stood up, as her hands remained stationary, while holding onto the seams of his belt.

His pants came down with the same slowness as he was standing. When they bunched beneath his knees, he stepped out of them, pushed them aside, and lowered himself gently on top of her.

His member had hardened considerably, and the heat he felt emanating from her, as the tip neared her entrance tortured him greatly.

He kissed her hungrily, not having enough of her…never having enough of her…

Her patience had reached its limit. She couldn't stand the tantalizing feel of his hardened member not in contact with her core.

She wanted him inside her. She wanted him to pierce her. She wanted him to love her.

This time, she withdrew from the kiss. She looked at him with pleading eyes, and rested her hands on his hips to urge him further.

He nodded.

He neared the tip of his manhood to her entrance, and gritted his teeth from the heat of her. Sensing his hesitation, she raised her legs and secured them around him and pulled herself onto him.

They both gasped in unison, unable to contain their pleasure.

His arms weakened momentarily has fire engulfed him.

She reared her back from the wonderful feel of momentary sating.

But the sating did not last, and so he began to move.

She matched his movements with her hips as the fire slowly rekindled. The friction was slow at first, but the storm grew in intensity, and this propelled their movements even further.

Faster…

Harder…

And then…the storm peaked, and for a moment, they became united with the heavens.

He muffled his cries by burying his mouth on her hair, the scent of her intoxicating him.

She let her cries echo across the empty village, forgetting about the slumbering Clare completely.

Their bodies were slick with sweat. He embraced her, kissed her one last time, and covered both their bodies with his cloak as they surrendered to blissful slumber.

The shadows of dusk pronounced the burning flames even more. And the shadows danced with glee, as they became witness to the consummate act never seen before.

Rules be damned.

The hunter had been looking for his prey for quite some time now. He had already visited countless villages and cities only to endure failure. He entered into another village, already expecting the same result.

He approached the nearest villager and showed him a photograph.

"Have you seen this person?" he asked.

The villager looked at him, then at the photograph. He shook his head and replied, "Sorry, I haven't."

The hunter gritted his teeth and gripped the handle of his katana in frustration. He closed his eyes and calmed himself down. "Thank you for your time."

He did this all throughout the day, but the task brought no fruit.

"I will find you wherever you run…Uzumaki Naruto," he promised as his mangekyou sharingan spun with anger.