game over. [P]

[KID GAMBINO.]

+ G A M E O V E R .

"Son... of a... bitch..."

This was it... the grande finale. Without a trace of hesitation, my fleeting soles carried me through the gate of the village to the secluded abode of the desert's shroud, respiration becoming hardened as I made sure that a safe distance was assured. Once I had become five... seven... ten kilometers away from the village boundary, I turned in disappointment to witness the destruction of the invasion. Smoke plumes cascaded into the air from every inch of the village, especially the epicenter, where I had just witnessed the death of the enigmatic Kazekage. "He's... dead."


And it wasn't just another figure of leadership that had bit the dust this late evening, but dozens upon hundreds of civilians and soldiers who had sacrificed their lives to protect their village. The truth was cold and hard to swallow, but it was nonetheless the truth... Sunagakure had been crushed beneath Iwagakure's power. Maniacally, I somehow envied the flawless execution in their plan, targeting the village at it's weakest from under the veil of the black skies... but their forces weren't completely triumphant. The clay-bird manipulator, the venomous-summoner, and even the giant arachnid that laid it's web for everyone to be caught in... they had each felt the wrath of the Sand Village, even if defeat was inevitable. To say this much, I was proud of what we had accomplished...


But I wasn't proud enough to become Iwagakure's slave. The Sun's aura slowly crept from the edge of the western horizon, finally signaling the end of a tormenting night, and I began to wonder where my future laid now. The path of a shinobi... was it all still worth it? From Sunagakure's numerous failures in leadership that had already portrayed us in a negative light, to granting Iwagakure such an effortless victory in our own homeland? Depression filling my eyes, I pulled the battle-scarred headband from my forehead, staring into the insignia with deep contemplation. Solemn winds caressed me from all over, forcing me to believe that the spirits that had just passed were trying to contact me through the realm of the dead.


"Et tu, Brute?", I confessed, failing to remove the anguish from my mind. This seemed like the end of the line for the Human Sandstorm... or possibly, a new beginning. Infuriated and motivated by the entire situation, the plan became obvious... I needed time and strength to return Sunagakure to it's former glory. The night was unfortunate, but it was simply another test of the Sand Village's conviction... but most importantly, I needed to find them. Determined, I shoved the headband into my pouch, turning my back upon the remnants that was once the land of the Sand. Without further adieu, I bolted into the open arms of Kaze no Kuni, hoping to reveal the truth to a dreadful future...


This was not over.

[KID GAMBINO.]

NINE DAYS LATER...

The camp was tolerable. The brilliance that shined from the distant Sandora Airando gave me some peace of mind, trying to absolutely remove the memories of the daunting event as I slowly chewed a piece of roasted lizard that I had captured hours before. Numerous days had passed since my escape, each throbbing second of the time never seeming to fade away. The land, the people, the fabrics of the proud village that I had personally claimed as my treasure... had fallen from it's majestic height into the hands of Iwagakure. Thousands of miles separated from the shell of a once-glorious territory, I found tranquil refuge in the confinement of one of the Sand military's various retreats, the base concise and near-hidden in the sea of gravel that engulfed it. A population with at least forty shinobi and civilians stationed within it, the only gleam to illuminate the melancholic stronghold came from the multiple campfires that was scattered between the resting tents, the construction fastened with makeshift equipment found in the wild. While the night was late and just a handful of valiant shinobi remained awake to guard the sleeping civilians, I sat before the dancing flame, covered in a desert-journeyman's robes, utilizing the silence to my advantage.


Lost in my own thoughts, I couldn't help but to stare at the flag's insignia that loomed on a pole stories above the base, wandering with an oppressed expression on how the Sand Village would ever be capable of recovering from such defeat. Hesitantly, a greater part of me condemned the allowance of the Earth shinobi to continue holding reign in Sunagakure for too long, but without a considerable force, rebellion against the takeover was almost futile. Although I never truly favored the idea of settling alliances with other Great Nation villages, the invasion did more than confirm that the ignorance of establishing neutrality helped cause the warfare itself, and that seeking aid from the other nations was almost necessary to recuperation. The sparse friends I had come to achieve during my uprising in the Sand were either dead, imprisoned, or buried in the immense stomach of Kaze no Kuni... I was essentially alone. Despite the acquaintances that filled the isolated oasis, it was difficult for me to administer some respect for anything that wasn't my ninja tools and myself, but I knew this frame of thinking was yielding from the goal at hand, and would have to desist if cooperation was what I sought.


Indecisive, yet burning with a fierce vengeance, I waited impatiently for the Sun to bring forth a new day... the power existed somewhere, I just had to find it.

[susumu]

“I’ll tell you this, nothing ever changes,”

a chūnin said. His voice, much like himself, stood out easily breaking the silence as him and three others (Akane included) approached the campfire. Their footfall drowned out by the chūnin’s continuing, as he saw it, schooling of the other adolescents. He was easily a veteran, a man in his mid-thirties who had witnessed, survived and stood victorious in more battles and wars than he’d like to remember. The amber-eyed adolescent found his seat next a shinobi already gathered around the campfire, his naginata stabbed into the sand between.

“There was a time I’d say we’d have a chance, but now, now I just don’t know. The village, last I saw of it, was burning into ruins. Our kage is, just like the village, gone. . .”

flick. . . .flick.

After two flicks his lighter ignited lighting the cigarette and he took his first pull of cig between his lips. The lighter closed with a flip and returned to a pocket underneath the cloak that clad his figure. Steady whisk of smoke billowed from the cigarette and a long plume of smoke exhaled from his mouth.

“It’s a new beginning,” he said, “time to pick up the pieces and start rebuilding. There’s a rebellion growing and Sandora Airando is the HQ.”

[KID GAMBINO.]

"Where... do I even begin?...",


I whispered solemnly, a cold stare becoming lost in the campfire's blaze as my mind continued to waver the ideal of perseverance. A sudden gust, driven enough to send the flames into a strange disturbance, broke the hypnosis that the night began to soothe me under, a combination of multiple footsteps and abrasive chatter shooting my gaze toward the unexpected newcomers. To witness a collection of four at these hours, the leading male appearing to be the senior out of the group, was indeed perplexing, but it was difficult for me to give two-shits when such vexing thoughts had a unyielding grip on my spirit. Instinctively, my hands shifted covertly beneath the expansive robe, assuring the texture of my ninja tools that were disguised in secrecy... the lands were plagued with idle malevolence -- preparation was essential, regardless of the situation. Before the crimson-haired teenager could be seated just inches from me, my eyes averted in disregard for their existence. Long story short, I preferred the simplicity of being alone, but nonetheless, this was reality.


There was no cure to the madness that overwhelmed me, the ravaging screams of failure reverberating endlessly in my conscious... until a few words that slipped from the intrusive adolescent's mouth hooked my attention like a careless fish. He spoke of... a rebellion?! The location of the desert oasis known as Sando Airando was just a couple of miles away, and I was puzzled to believe that retaliation -- something that I was hard-pressed to make a decision for or against -- was already spawning from the vengeance of the forsaken Sand people. I scuffed in response, turning to observe the planted naginata for a strained duration, pondering if the red-head's tenacity was undoubtedly as bold as he made it seem. "A rebellion...?", I proclaimed with a melancholic tone, unable to remove my stare from the male's weapon. With a humble pause, a question assertively came to mind, thirsting for the answer to remedy the ailment in my soul.


"Tell me... that naginata... would you call it... your treasure?"

[susumu]

The adolescent’s words were carried with an air of intrigue of which forced the chūnin to hold his tongue. It had been more than a week since Sunagakure had fallen, amber eyes shifted from the campfire to the men he’d been on guard duty with. Their faces were long with contemplative eyes – the talk of the rebellion had not reached this camp and perhaps many other camps. At least now word would spread – Sunagakure wasn’t gone and dead, far from it.

Calmly he took a long, slow, pull of the cigarette with the chūnin finally silent he and the others could finally get a peaceful, quiet moment. No more of that schooling bullshit, as he exhaled a strange question was directed at him gaining his full attention. Gazing at the man whose gaze was held, questionable, by a naginata—his naginata was quite a strange sight. But stranger things have been seen and this certainly wasn’t as odd as could be.

“No,” he said dryly turning his attention to the campfire. “If you want it, you can have it. Won’t be in much need of it where I’m going.”

[KID GAMBINO.]

The remaining members, and even the leading male, froze with their attention still, the conversation now becoming an exchange of words between the crimson-headed one and myself. I had never met this shinobi before now, yet the importance of his reply held a gravity that they just wouldn't understand from a simple glance. Content and not surprised, my gaze finally broke away from an impenetrable lock on the naginata, the gravelly blemish on my countenance proving that the journey had served me a full dosage of nature's adversity. Without consideration, an impassive wisp released from me, transitioning the same hardened focus I once had toward the gourd of sand that rested closely in the distance.


"That is... unnecessary.", I remarked, maintaining the unknown relation between the male's admiration and my own for Sunagakure in confidentiality. The bladed weapon didn't appear special, and it wasn't outlandish to believe that even an object of war could be easily replaced in this world. "Heh, I have my own treasures to protect me from the clutches of death... that weapon is yours alone, mate -- I don't need it." This was nothing less than the truth, such necessity of those kind of armaments never struck me as meaningful when the earth around me was a weapon that not even Mother Nature could manipulate with supernatural expertise. The wintry breeze suddenly changed directions at the slightest whim, and I continued onward, sustaining a morbid pitch in every breath.


"However, I doubt that even what I consider my most valuable equipment at this very moment would be enough to drive the forces of Iwagakure from my home... I had already tasted the rancid sting of defeat once before, I don't plan to a second time." Emotions of inferiority resurfaced, my focal point becoming lost in the trenches of my open palm. The isolated touch of a soliloquy phased the other beings in attendance from reality, as I drifted into the echo of a nightmare. "This body... the fibers of my being... I was entrusted with the gift of protecting my home better than anyone else... yet, I ultimately protected nothing... So, you tell me this, kid... what exactly is there left to rebuild?"