Disclaimer:

I do not own Naruto (the manga or anime) or any of the characters included within it. I only own the original characters in this story including the main character Utako Mizuke. I do not make any form of profit off of this story.

Author's Note:

This Fan Fiction is an original work of mine which is complete. The full story is over 60 chapters and roughly 150K words. I have posted these chapters to as a preview for those who may be interested in viewing the full story on the Adult- website for FanFiction, which is a .Org site. It can be found under the same title. Please be aware you must be 18 or older to view the full story. These chapters will leave you hanging. The full story is much too lemony to be listed on this site. Enjoy!

1. The Old Man in Suna

Suna was in an uproar as I walked into the gates for the first time. There was a sense of excitement in the air that was truly palpable. My mood doesn't fit well here. I sit quietly in the little tea shop across from the Kazekage Tower. My cloak is pulled up close to shelter me from the throngs of excited people, but I feel stifled beneath the sweltering Suna sun. If not for the constant breeze, I would probably collapse from heat stroke.

After a few hours of allowing the conversation in the square to wash over me, I begin to get a sense of what all the chaos is about. Apparently, Sabaku no Garra, the Kazekage of this little village was recently abducted. There had been great fear amongst the villagers that he would not return alive. According to the village folk, he was actually killed and resurrected during his absence, due to a life-long possession being removed from his body. I roll my eyes. This is exactly the kind of story some old fart would come up with to explain away his incompetence and capture. As if the return of some zombie-de-possessed-old-man is something to be screaming in the streets about. They should be hiding their weakness, not flaunting it for the world to see.

Wow… I think to myself. Do I sound bitter or what?

I feel the old familiar fatigue wash through my body. I have been on the run most of my life, not that I am very old – barely 18 in fact. I look again at the many ecstatic faces; happy that their home is once again safe with Grandpa back behind his desk.

Home.

The very word is enough to make tears threaten beneath my eyelids.

I have never had a home; not that I can remember anyway. I did have someone that found me when I was very young. He took me in, doted on me, and raised me. But underneath it all, he was a cruel man, only interested in power. He understood what a freak I was long before I did. He had taken me in to control me, to keep me beneath his watchful eye, and eventually use me to his own purpose. When I discovered the depth and blackness of his plans, I ran in fear of him. I have been running ever since. It's not easy to run and hide as a young woman.

I have learned to use my mind and body to survive on my own. I float from country to country, village to village. I always hope to find a place to finally call home, and always suffer disappointment. My condition is not difficult to hide, but in a moment of weakness, confusion, or pure stupidity – it is entirely too easy to expose. Once I am discovered, I am feared or coveted. Both can be equally dangerous. Then I am on the run once again, looking for a new place to rest.

Despite the heat, I could see myself staying here for a while if permitted. I have not been back in the land of wind for some time now. However, this will require finding myself a new guardian – and soon. I am nearly out of money, and have no real connection to these people of the sand. Every time I stop to rest in a new place, I pick a guardian out for myself. This has become easier to accomplish as I have gained experience… and breasts.

I find a man close to my age, when possible, and court his affections. I usually pick a shinobi. Their talents can be very advantageous when danger is near. I am not looking for love, as only a fool would consider such under this constant threat. I also must be very cautious in my affections. My condition could easily give me away in a more elaborate physical relationship. It is beneficial if the man is wealthy, or has a position of some influence – that is if I don't want to starve to death. I have frequently had to choose an older guardian than I would have otherwise picked because of this key factor. I shudder at the memory of some of the choices I've made along the way. I call them my guardians to somewhat console myself. They are usually the greatest threat of all. I cannot count the number of small scars I have on my body from their attention, or their anger once I am exposed.

I breathe out a big sigh. Starting the process is always the hardest. Gaining momentum. Faking enthusiasm. But after only a few hours here, I have already begun. I wish I had taken better care of my body during this last trip; but I had started out wounded already, and I could not risk slowing my flight. My guardian had discovered my condition, and had beaten me considerably before my escape. I could have destroyed him – left him helpless and alone. But this would only have exposed myself to further scrutiny once he was discovered. Cleaning myself up to court a man's attention is going to take a lot of work now, and money. At least my bruises have mostly faded away.

From my seat in the café, I see a young male shinobi approach the Kazekage Tower. He is in a full-body black training outfit, with cat ears no less! His face is painted. I wonder if this is to instill fear in his opponents, or cover bad acne. He also has something large strapped to his back. He walks right up to the tower, and inside, as if he owns the place.

How interesting… I wonder what kind of woman would lure cat-boy into her net… A small timid brunette with modest clothing? An angry blond tomboy? A red-head dressed to make a man drool? Hmph. Probably the latter... That's usually the case anyway.

Well, with at least one target in sight it's time to begin. Hmmm… I need to find a shop for soaps, clothing and supplies. I'm not sure how many nights I can afford to sleep in a real bed before my funds are gone. Hopefully enough to rid myself of the dark circles beneath my eyes at least…

I find a shop that looks promising and head toward it. A small boy drops a ball at my feet along the way. I reach down to pick it up and hand it to him, patting him on the head only briefly. He is cute, with shaggy red-blond hair and big brown eyes. As I turn to head into the shop again, I run smack into someone.

"Hey! Watch where you're going!" she shouts.

Whoa. A tall and well-built blond with four pig tails sticking out in all directions – and the largest fan I've ever seen – is glaring down at me. She has a local shinobi headband, signifying her status, hanging loosely around her neck.

"I'm so sorry!" I respond, casting my eyes to the ground and pulling my cloak to shield my face. "I meant no harm," I continue sincerely.

She shifts out of her aggressive stance, and a smile crosses her face. "Oh… it's okay. I guess that was probably my fault too. Huh… With all the black you're wearing, I thought you were my brother for half a second. Aren't you hot in that?"

"No. Thank you." I turned to dart around her and into the shop. I am not here to make friends, at least not until I have a plan of action. Who knows who she could be dating, or courting? I use the reflective glass in the back of the shop's entrance to see her confused face staring back after me. She soon turns away and leaves.

I mill around in the shop for a while, looking at the prices of the supplies I will need in the coming days. I am pleased with what I find, but things are slightly more expensive than I would have hoped. I may have to forego the bed earlier than I wish to. For now, I buy only what I need to repair and replenish my skin. My skin and my voice are the two greatest assets I possess. Well almost…

I suddenly realize the excitement in the little shop around me is growing, and also in the street outside. Apparently, the great Kazekage, now returned to his glory, is going to address the people from his tower soon.

Well… I should probably at least learn what his face looks like. Not that his big beard, cane, robes, and freakishly large hat won't give him away.

I chuckle, pay for my few items, and make my way back outside toward the tower. I can see him standing on the large balcony – in said robes and hat. There are too many people in the way to see well. I decide to flip myself onto the roof of one of the small shops to get a better view, and pull my cloak around as a shield once again.

To my surprise… cat-boy is standing on the balcony with him; off to one side in the back. He whispers something into the Kazekage's ear, and the old man nods. Yes! This man is definitely a worthwhile target. Just then the Kazekage turns his head towards me to survey the crowd, and lifts his hands to them as he begins speaking.

My mouth drops open when I catch sight of him, and I let out an audible gasp. Good heavens above! That Kage is young! Possibly even younger than me… though not by much. He also has the most strikingly handsome face I have ever laid eyes on. He has unruly blood red locks peeking out from under his massive hat. His skin appears almost alabaster – a contradiction in the desert to be sure. He has what appears to be a red kanji tattoo above his left eye, but I can't make out what it says from this distance.

His eyes…

His eyes hold me captive like those of a great bird of prey. They are a brilliant jade green, inset deeply within dark black rings that hint at some form of insomnia. Well… I was worried about my eyes, but maybe I shouldn't be… They are cold, distant, but oh so sexy! I don't think I've wanted to melt simply from looking at a man's eyes before. The immature thought makes me giggle at myself. Maybe the sun has already started melting my brain.

I don't feel too self-conscious about my reaction, though. The other women in the crowd are obviously having a similar problem. They are cheering, screaming, and in some cases even becoming faint despite his obvious attempt to speak to the crowd. I can't seem to focus on what he is saying. I want to. I may even need to… but the caged bird in my chest is simply driving me to distraction every time I get another glance at his eyes.

Forget cat-boy! , I think to myself. This is a mouth-watering meal-ticket. I can see myself slipping coyly into his office, running my hands up his chest and kissing him until I'm dizzy from the heat of it.

Whoa! Whoa… wait a second! Am I crazy?! This guy is WAY too high profile. Too public, too many eyes, too many questions. I'd be asking to get hurt at the least… or worse.

But despite my reality check, I find myself dying to know more about him. How did he end up there? Are the stories I've heard all morning true? Did he really die? Was he possessed by a demon at some point? I must find out more about this jade-eyed Garra of the Desert.