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--| Naitome walked into brightness; the disc sun glimmering at its edges like a mirage as heat settled over the desert-made-city. His eyes were unused to the light, and he squinted in discomfort, rubbing away the fog of lost sleep, irritated. He had been walking for hours. Lazy loops 'round the same stretch of Sunagakure, process of familiarization and boredom. It wasn't long before he found himself not far from the Tower Square, blue kimono brushed aside impatiently by dust thrown wind. He pushed his hands absentmindedly through his hair. Coughed. Cleared his throat with some small trace of nervousness before approaching the young man with which his guard duty shift could begin.

"I am called Musouka, i've been stationed for guard duty as well. Should we begin our rounds now, or will others be accompanying us?"

He asked of the turquoise-haired youth, his fingers finding the hilt of Waking Dream to tap rhythmically along its hilt.

"Have you done this before?"

He added soon after.

--| There was an amalgamated lurch/sway as the floor of the simple sand house shivered. It strained against its bracing, began cinching itself inexorably towards its own center. Something like a whirlpool began to form in the earth. A multitude of iron rose. A bird rustled and pulled itself free of the false desert connected by a tether of leathery sand flesh forming texture from fractured memory.

The bird split open, burst. It became a flock of smaller birds discolored to match the coal black of their surroundings. Each bird plummeted into the sandy floor in turn. Each gave a nearly inaudible >pop< as it became dust, twitched, and was absorbed further down. The whirlpool reformed momentarily, directed by the Genin's thoughts.

He was conception given life. There was insidious movement and the sound of something rough dragging itself newly into the world. An enormous wing pushed itself through the floor; five meters high it crashed back down and became briefly a tree whose leaves were near endless copies of Naitome's own palms. The hands elongated, grew arms, pulled at the faux bark of their form. It looked as if it would rip itself apart as a chasm split the 'bark' and

everywhere...everything....spread....

The entire tree dissolved in a flash as a particle cloud of iron sand twisted in on itself and settled back into the lone Sunagakure genin of the area. Naitome stood perfectly still as chakras still mixed about his body. He held a single hand out to steady himself, not even truly aware as a thin pillar of sand rose up obeying silent commands and formed a sort of cane. He looked down in shock, then shook his head vigorously. The cane dissipated and he looked out, as if seeing the odd house for the first time.

He did not breathe, but if he could, he would be out of breath anyway.

His heart seemed to be crushing itself of its own accord. He calmed the channeling physical and mental force that propelled him through each change and relaxed his arms at his side. He seemed to inhale, but it was only out of habit, a tired deception born from a life among Those Awake, and once he felt more settled, his chakra flared out once more.

He walked to the door of the house.

Twist.

Click.

The door opene--

HE WOKE UP.

<sub>--|He stood naked but unashamed (!). There was a light dusting of floating magnetic chakra waving with intent. It was held just above the threshold of 'flesh' giving him shape by willpower alone. His mind stretched out then. It mimicked the fading tactile impressions of armor that had become his floor, grew cracks that branched out like the arms of some ancient tree and settled into nothing but more dust.

The false water that composed his eyes seemed to run down the sides of his face as he...let go...just let go he thought to himself. Energies animating conscious metal flowed into a twitching kinetic lump. Its edged smoothed suddenly, then hardened and grew serrated edges like razors, ran up and down the length of sand that was Naitome's true self. Still capable of clear thought, he imagined his own hand, then increased the scale dramatically as a nervous particulate shift sought simulacrum creation hungrily. The pile of sand broke itself apart as quickly as it had been formed.

He became a single human hand. It's digits began opening and closing reflectively with programmed zeal. The nails of each finger, now seeming as subtle and supple as flesh, grew ambiguous and darkened. They began spreading into malleable claws. As they appeared, they were erased; a battle formation that the absence of enemies forced the young man to see as illogical and unnecessary. The clawed hand braided itself into the sand along the floor and he grew in size.

He became a pair of hands, where something like an arm seemed to slowly explode from the junction of a wrist. It looked as if some monstrous thing was reaching up through the dirt. His hastily cobbled together image wavered in a light wind distributed through this random house by chakra and thought. Something like a pair of eyes burst from the twin palms. First two, then four, then sixteen...the handsome face many had seen snarling around the village burst free of sand moving like clay in the refracted evening light.

He stepped out of the enormous hands, dragging with him eyes that broke apart into a granular mess immediately after movement. This previous form, these hands that were so much like his own and yet so different for not having them, collapsed with a relaxed thud into nothing. He was wearing her familiar kimono yet again; but it lacked color and texture, like paint laid over power. He shook vigorously as more metal grains fell to the floor and a splash of color returned him to 'normal'.

He would continue.</sub>

<sub>[enter]

--| In from the heat, finally, exhausted. And there would be rest for him soon.

His mind entered a place of tranquility and calm that felt foreign. He suppressed the natural inclination to recoil from such peaceful meanderings. His eyes closed. His chakra built as he sat within the grand hovel of sand that was his favorite spot in Sunagakure, and sought to resonate with the essence of the desert. The thing that should have been his heart shuddered with the effort, lulled him into dream.


The sands around him seemed to gather to a flesh of iron sand. He allowed them to become some small part of his body. They would add to the grainy totality he was composed of. They were given shape by his will. His thoughts focused on running tiny tremors of intention throughout his form.


His head, his hands, his legs, his clothing; all was merely a suggestion. They were like layers of his mind placed precariously atop a pile of rocks. They could falter and change. They could become more than what they first appeared. Color and texture were merely perspectives that he was free to alter as he saw fit.


He would shift each section of his iron sand body in turn, from the form he was so used to into…something else. For the moment, he would merely become more sand. His chakra pooled around him in waves. It was seeking new shapes. His body was a meeting place for ideas, thoughts of structure; not blueprints but shadows.


He existed as physical and mental energy combined in a unison of compacted earth. He thought of this fact, as his ‘breathing’ increased. He was an impression in reality, but he would choose the perspective. An ebbing assault of energy radiated out from his core. The sand around him would suddenly become more of his own mass to manipulate as he saw fit.

All alone, in the tiny kingdom of his mind, in the dark.</sub>

"Gah!"

The two youth at Sonzairyuu's side scattered quickly, more afraid of the sudden interruption and theatricality of his entrance than of the small statured Naitome. Sonzairyuu looked down with contempt at his scattering comrades, and spoke with all the hatred he could muster.

"Stupid child. You think this is a game?"

"Let's play.

The youth's eyes spiraled away from their morose charcoal black; bloomed into a bright crimson with three black tomoe obscuring their depths, rotating with chakra. Knowing nothing of the Uchiha nor their kekkei genkai dojutsu, Naitome met the man's gaze with barely contained anger, taking in the full brunt of his opponents chakra. As their eyes locked, Naitome felt

...n e k o r b

While worlds burst and fires raged in his mind. The world had become a monotone gray expanse with Naitome at its center. The plane shifted and changed. He stood on a rock cliff that became an ocean and a wind storm and a demon from one second to the next. He looked around frantically, searching for Sonzairyuu, when he at last heard a voice boom out over the crazed landscape.

"You have never faced one who wields the Sharingan, I see."

Sonzairyuu said, as a chasm opened in the earth and Naitome fell and fell and

L
_A
__N
___D
____E
_____D.

but found little comfort in the dark. Instead, he found himself stranded and bound, chained to an over-sized dead tree, with Sonzairyuu approaching slowly, arms outstretched, holding a large kunai. In a heart beat, Sonzairyuu had closed the distance between them (impossibly fast), as it was now Naitome's turn to feel the cold of a blade pressed into his throat. He struggled against his restraints, allowed his body to pulsate with magnetic energies struggling to control the iron chains that captured him, but to no avail. Sonzairyuu closed the distance and

rings.

pressed the knife deeper into Naitome's skin as

RINGS. TWELVE KUNAI. KATANA.

his face grew colder and darker with each step, ensuring Naitome's early defeat. He plunged the knife deep into the Zantetsuken's neck,a killing blow. A splatter of blood hit the ground with a heavy wet slapping sound, echoing out into the air around them. Through eyes squinting in pain, Naitome could feel the ragged mess that was his throat leak essence all over the earth, while another strike from Sonzairyuu was set to end his life. Naitome braced himself for the pain and tried to extinguish the awkward insistent rambling of his mind, which repeated

rings,twelve kunai, katana, metal necklace,iron flower pot in front of the boutique, Taro's weapon booth

even though he didn't understand why.

The kunai plunged downwards, ready and capable of taking his life.