The scorching sun bore down on the barren desert, casting wavering heat mirages across the horizon. Shizue Kobayashi adjusted the wide-brimmed hat she had purchased before her journey, its shadow offering scant relief from the relentless rays. Her escort, a stoic man named Kaito, walked silently beside her, his hand never straying far from the hilt of his sword. They were an odd pair—the delicate, fashionably dressed mediator from Pebble Country and the grizzled samurai who had seen more battles than he cared to recount.
Ahead of them lay the outskirts of Sunagakure, a village that once stood as a bastion of Wind Country’s might. Now, it was a shadow of its former self, its crumbled walls and tattered banners a stark reminder of its defeat at the hands of Iwagakure. The war had left deep scars, not only on the land but on its people. Tensions ran high between the Iwagakure forces now stationed in the village and the Sunagakure citizens who remained, their freedom curtailed by their conquerors.
Shizue’s task was clear: mediate the growing unrest between the two sides and verify the integrity of the shipments arriving from Iwagakure. Supplies were running low, and rumors of tampering and stealing of supplies had begun to circulate. Her employers suspected foul play, and they had chosen Shizue for her neutrality and her sharp, observant mind. Pebble country was always seen as a good mediator, since they had ties to all of the big 5 in the wealth they brought to Pebble, and they also were chosen as neutral grounds during times of strife. Though she was a genin, her background in diplomacy and her reputation as a healer made her a natural choice for such a delicate mission.
The gates of Sunagakure's ouskirts, a city called Daiura, loomed closer, their once-proud carvings marred by battle damage. A pair of Iwagakure guards stood watch, their eyes narrowing as Shizue and Kaito approached.
“State your business,” one of them barked, his voice rough but not unkind.
Shizue stepped forward, her hands raised in a gesture of peace. “I am Shizue Kobayashi, a mediator from Pebble Country. I’ve been sent to oversee the supply shipments and address the concerns of both parties. This is my escort, Kaito.”
The guards exchanged glances before nodding. “You’ll want to speak with Captain Tetsuya,” one of them said. “He’s in charge of the supply routes.”
“Thank you,” Shizue replied with a polite bow. As they passed through the gates, she couldn’t help but notice the tension in the air. Sunagakure’s citizens avoided the gaze of the Iwagakure soldiers, Shizue herself tried to be as conspicuous as possible, in case Kaito needed to see where she was at. He was ever by her side, a constant reminder that Pebble meant business, and that she would be protected even this far away from their borders.
Pebble, being a protected country, held certain benefits, and an attack on a citizen from this country would certainly cause a stir throughout the rest of the countries in the world. She trusted the reputation of her country's fairness to precede her, so that she would be able to assess what was going on and report back to the respective parties that were concerned. She didn't know exactly who had hired the mission, but she suspected that the head of Iwagakure was tired of hearing about shipments missing supplies, and supplies going missing.
She came up to the first cart and started to go through a list of supplies which were supposed to be on it, and verifying the contents therein.
Supplies and Stores
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Kaida
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- User flair: I was built to love and to burn
Supplies and Stores
Upon entering the city Datura felt her heart constrict in her chest. The journey with Youji was pleasant, it gave her a good distraction from her anxiety about returning home. But the reality in front of her brought it back full force. Buildings still severely damaged, her people weary and beaten down. It looked like home but still felt like a warzone. She had to blink back tears at the current situation here in Sunagakure.
Datura was stopped at the gate alongside some supply carts while Youji went ahead to ensure all the paperwork was in order for her return. She was nervous and couldn’t stop herself from tracing patterns on her palms. As she was looking around, she saw a very gruff looking samurai, the hilt of his katana held firmly in his hand and what appeared to be a young woman standing alongside him chattering to a guard as if she was some sort of diplomat. Datura recognized the symbol of Pebble country adorning their clothing and scoffed. ‘A little late for mediation.’ It had been two years since the invasion. Since her capture. She was worse for wear in terms of physical health, having lost several pounds during her encampment and not being able to sleep much without plaguing nightmares. She was scarred both mentally and physically and found it laughable that after all this time, that’s when Pebble decided to intervene to ensure her home’s welfare.
She locked eyes with the young red headed girl in front of her and turned away. She was overwhelmed and had no interest in being someone’s proof of mistreatment. Instead, she focused on banners and soldiers around her. Tensions were still high, a steep divide between the Iwa guards and Suna citizens. Her home used to be filled with laughter in the streets, children playing and families making memories. There was a sanctuary nearby the gate that was used for community meditation, Datura was saddened to see it torn apart. She had so many memories with Kiyori there; her personal growth was largely attached to that space. Learning how to find peace, move through grief, find her strength to push forward and make a difference. And it was gone. She felt so distant from who she was.
A call from her left told her that Youji had sorted things out and they were clear to move forward. Passing through the gates she saw the young girl again, this time the red head staring straight at her. Almost as if gauging if it was a good idea to speak or not. Datura dipped her head in acknowledgement and kept walking with Youji, wanting nothing more than to go to her family home and ensure the safety of those she had left…or to say goodbye to the ones she didn’t know she had lost.
Datura was stopped at the gate alongside some supply carts while Youji went ahead to ensure all the paperwork was in order for her return. She was nervous and couldn’t stop herself from tracing patterns on her palms. As she was looking around, she saw a very gruff looking samurai, the hilt of his katana held firmly in his hand and what appeared to be a young woman standing alongside him chattering to a guard as if she was some sort of diplomat. Datura recognized the symbol of Pebble country adorning their clothing and scoffed. ‘A little late for mediation.’ It had been two years since the invasion. Since her capture. She was worse for wear in terms of physical health, having lost several pounds during her encampment and not being able to sleep much without plaguing nightmares. She was scarred both mentally and physically and found it laughable that after all this time, that’s when Pebble decided to intervene to ensure her home’s welfare.
She locked eyes with the young red headed girl in front of her and turned away. She was overwhelmed and had no interest in being someone’s proof of mistreatment. Instead, she focused on banners and soldiers around her. Tensions were still high, a steep divide between the Iwa guards and Suna citizens. Her home used to be filled with laughter in the streets, children playing and families making memories. There was a sanctuary nearby the gate that was used for community meditation, Datura was saddened to see it torn apart. She had so many memories with Kiyori there; her personal growth was largely attached to that space. Learning how to find peace, move through grief, find her strength to push forward and make a difference. And it was gone. She felt so distant from who she was.
A call from her left told her that Youji had sorted things out and they were clear to move forward. Passing through the gates she saw the young girl again, this time the red head staring straight at her. Almost as if gauging if it was a good idea to speak or not. Datura dipped her head in acknowledgement and kept walking with Youji, wanting nothing more than to go to her family home and ensure the safety of those she had left…or to say goodbye to the ones she didn’t know she had lost.
Last edited by Kaida on Sun Jan 26, 2025 2:50 am, edited 5 times in total.
Jess
Naegi Datura ~ Jounin ~ Sunagakure
Takanada Miyuki ~ Jounin ~ Kirigakure
Nara Akemi ~ Special Jounin ~ Konohagakure ~ ANBU
Naegi Datura ~ Jounin ~ Sunagakure
Takanada Miyuki ~ Jounin ~ Kirigakure
Nara Akemi ~ Special Jounin ~ Konohagakure ~ ANBU
Supplies and Stores
Shizue adjusted her satchel, taking stock of the grim faces around her. Each glance told a story of defeat, weariness, and barely veiled hostility. It was a landscape Shizue was familiar with, though never in such stark terms. Her hands remained steady as she began the inventory process with the nearest supply cart, her mind working through the steps of diplomacy she might need to employ.
It was during her inspection that she caught sight of a young woman standing near the gate—a Sunagakure native, by the look of her garb and the haunting sadness etched into her features. The woman stood out from the crowd not because of her beauty, though she was striking with her white hair, but because of the raw emotion she seemed to carry like a mantle. Shizue couldn’t help but notice her posture, defensive yet proud, the way her eyes lingered on the ruined sanctuary nearby before she turned them away, unable—or unwilling—to dwell on it further.
Shizue glanced at Kaito, who stood nearby with his usual stoic demeanor, then back to the woman. Her training had taught her to read people, and this one’s story wasn’t difficult to guess. A former citizen of this place, perhaps, returning after great loss. Or someone who had suffered directly under the occupation.
Their eyes met briefly, and Shizue felt a pang of hesitation. She wasn’t here to open old wounds. She was here to ensure the shipments were accounted for, to ease tensions where possible, and to observe the situation with an impartial lens. But there was nothing impartial about the way this woman’s gaze seemed to pierce her own.
When the woman dipped her head slightly, Shizue took it as both acknowledgment and dismissal. She wasn’t here to serve as a balm for anyone’s suffering; this wasn’t her home, and she wasn’t going to pretend she could understand what it had endured. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t offer something—an ear, a word of acknowledgment, or even just a moment of kindness.
Still, Shizue let the woman go without a word, turning her attention back to the supplies. It wasn’t the right time. She watched as the woman disappeared into the streets, escorted by a man whose protective stance mirrored Kaito’s.
Kaito’s voice brought her back to the present. “Should we move on?”
“Not yet,” Shizue replied softly, closing the ledger in her hands. “There’s still more to see.”
But her mind lingered on the woman from Sunagakure, her presence a stark reminder that this mission wasn’t just about supplies or politics. It was about people—those left to pick up the pieces of a shattered home. And whether or not they welcomed Shizue’s presence, she was here to see the truth of what had happened, even if it was written on the faces of strangers.
Walking up hesitantly, after putting down the ledger of supplies which had been tallied and found a lack of about 10 loaves, 20 pieces of gold, and a couple of other items that could be either eaten or pocketed easily, Shizue bowed to Youji and to Datura, "Greetings from Pebble Country." She said, then straightened. Kaito, who loomed behind her was an impressive sight, a wall of rippling muscle that looked both confused at Shizue's introduction and wary of the two that rolled into town.
It was relatively safe here, but Shizue knew that he had a job to protect her on one of her first outings from Pebble. She continued, "I couldn't help but notice you both caught my eye, and a pair, one from Iwagakure no Sato and one from Sunagakure no Sato is a rare thing to see." She motioned to the crowd where the people from Suna obviously didn't want to be seen near, or even be looked at by the Iwagakure occupiers.
"I also noticed that you arrived almost at the same time as the caravan." She noted, "Did you travel with them, and did you see anything suspicious." She flashed her headband, a sign she was a shinobi from pebble, "I am here to investigate anything that is underhanded to my superior back home. I suspect it's the head of Iwagakure that asked for the audit."
It was during her inspection that she caught sight of a young woman standing near the gate—a Sunagakure native, by the look of her garb and the haunting sadness etched into her features. The woman stood out from the crowd not because of her beauty, though she was striking with her white hair, but because of the raw emotion she seemed to carry like a mantle. Shizue couldn’t help but notice her posture, defensive yet proud, the way her eyes lingered on the ruined sanctuary nearby before she turned them away, unable—or unwilling—to dwell on it further.
Shizue glanced at Kaito, who stood nearby with his usual stoic demeanor, then back to the woman. Her training had taught her to read people, and this one’s story wasn’t difficult to guess. A former citizen of this place, perhaps, returning after great loss. Or someone who had suffered directly under the occupation.
Their eyes met briefly, and Shizue felt a pang of hesitation. She wasn’t here to open old wounds. She was here to ensure the shipments were accounted for, to ease tensions where possible, and to observe the situation with an impartial lens. But there was nothing impartial about the way this woman’s gaze seemed to pierce her own.
When the woman dipped her head slightly, Shizue took it as both acknowledgment and dismissal. She wasn’t here to serve as a balm for anyone’s suffering; this wasn’t her home, and she wasn’t going to pretend she could understand what it had endured. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t offer something—an ear, a word of acknowledgment, or even just a moment of kindness.
Still, Shizue let the woman go without a word, turning her attention back to the supplies. It wasn’t the right time. She watched as the woman disappeared into the streets, escorted by a man whose protective stance mirrored Kaito’s.
Kaito’s voice brought her back to the present. “Should we move on?”
“Not yet,” Shizue replied softly, closing the ledger in her hands. “There’s still more to see.”
But her mind lingered on the woman from Sunagakure, her presence a stark reminder that this mission wasn’t just about supplies or politics. It was about people—those left to pick up the pieces of a shattered home. And whether or not they welcomed Shizue’s presence, she was here to see the truth of what had happened, even if it was written on the faces of strangers.
Walking up hesitantly, after putting down the ledger of supplies which had been tallied and found a lack of about 10 loaves, 20 pieces of gold, and a couple of other items that could be either eaten or pocketed easily, Shizue bowed to Youji and to Datura, "Greetings from Pebble Country." She said, then straightened. Kaito, who loomed behind her was an impressive sight, a wall of rippling muscle that looked both confused at Shizue's introduction and wary of the two that rolled into town.
It was relatively safe here, but Shizue knew that he had a job to protect her on one of her first outings from Pebble. She continued, "I couldn't help but notice you both caught my eye, and a pair, one from Iwagakure no Sato and one from Sunagakure no Sato is a rare thing to see." She motioned to the crowd where the people from Suna obviously didn't want to be seen near, or even be looked at by the Iwagakure occupiers.
"I also noticed that you arrived almost at the same time as the caravan." She noted, "Did you travel with them, and did you see anything suspicious." She flashed her headband, a sign she was a shinobi from pebble, "I am here to investigate anything that is underhanded to my superior back home. I suspect it's the head of Iwagakure that asked for the audit."
Supplies and Stores
Youji had slept more soundly than he had in years. It had been early in the morning when he had finally drifted asleep, and he awoke to the beaming sun streaming through the hotel windows. After a much-needed shower and breakfast, he and Datura had stopped by the markets to procure some new clothing, mostly for himself. His winter gear that he had set out with from Iwagakure wouldn’t bode well for him on the final stretch through the desert to Sunagakure. Instead, he picked out some simple black robes and loose-fitting pants. When in the desert, whites, tans and black were each common colors. Black would focus the heat onto his clothing rather than any portion of his exposed skin, and the loose-fitting material would allow the heat to disperse, whisked away by even the slightest breeze before it transferred to him.
Here in Daiura, wind country’s largest city and bustling trading port, Iwagakure’s presence was significant. There were perhaps one hundred shinobi of the hidden stone stationed to oversee the supply lines and maintain order. Youji wore his Iwagakure headband across his forehead and his pair of katana at the left side of his hip, each wrapped in black cloth. His cerulean-blue eyes scanned their surroundings attentively as they walked closely to one another to meet the caravan headed to Sunagakure. It would be at least a 4-5 hour trip they had told him last night when he had volunteered to escort them in. The sun was already rising and with it the sweltering temperatures. It seemed hard to believe it was only Spring and that just yesterday they had been in Rock country, trekking through snow.
Already Youji found himself sweating lightly, despite the local attire. “If this is Spring, I would hate to experience the Summer heat” he lamented as he sighted the caravan waiting for them. They were a little late to be sure, and he was glad that he was right that they wouldn’t be so brazen to leave without a shinobi escort. Especially after the attack on the supply lines the night before. He noticed the way Datura’s face became sullen as she observed the damage to the sandstone buildings, the religious monuments in particular seemed to be treated with little regard by the Iwagakure invaders. Likely the temples were attacked and ransacked deliberately to reduce morale, and it seemed to have the desired affect. Everyone he looked, the wind country natives sneered at him, hatred in their eyes. Since Sunagakure’s fall, Datura was the first Suna shinobi he had made contact with, and he hadn’t seen the aftermath of the war himself. His heart sank knowing that at least in part he was responsible for this, though no one man could stop the march of the Iwagakure war machine. It seemed the Tsuchikage and self proclaimed Kazekage was intent on conquering the entire world, uniting everyone under Earth country’s banner. Yet if differences between nations could not be resolved then it seemed it would be an empire of tyranny.
As he made his way towards the caravan leader, they were approached by a beautiful young woman and a large, muscular man. Youji assessed the more intimidating figure, he was sure he could dispatch him quickly if need be. Though he relaxed slightly as the woman introduced herself as a citizen of Pebble country. Nonetheless, Youji took a step forward, putting himself between Datura and the newcomers. His left hand rested on the saya of one of his swords, his thumb just beneath the guard. “I suppose it is” he responded warily. He dipped his head respectfully after her bow. “Haziwara Youji; Special Jounin” he introduced. His eyes narrowed at the headband, “I’ve never heard of shinobi in Pebble country” he considered, was she perhaps a rogue shinobi that had moved there? Whatever the case, she seemed to have some authority as a peacekeeper between shinobi nations. He knew the samurai army of Pebble had taken over Iron country’s duties as peacekeepers after the former neutral nation had been conquered by a rogue shinobi of Kirigakure. And from what he heard, Kemurigakure, the hidden village founded in Iron, along with its leader; Mistaki Shio, had all been obliterated in recent years. He considered how to respond to her questions. He supposed it benefited Iwagakure to be forthright. “There was an attack last night on the train bringing in supplies from Rock country. I put a stop to it. It was Sunagakure rebels” he said, whispering that last bit of information under his breath. The last thing he needed was for locals to view Datura as a traitor to her people. He wouldn’t reveal her part in putting down the rebels if he could help it. “I’m not sure if that accounts for the missing supplies though” he considered. It was certainly possible some items had been pocketed before he dispatched them. He hadn’t recovered all the bodies in order to check them and he hadn’t stayed for the inventory count afterward. There was certainly room for Iwagakure shinobi to use the attack as a convenient scapegoat to line their own pockets.
Here in Daiura, wind country’s largest city and bustling trading port, Iwagakure’s presence was significant. There were perhaps one hundred shinobi of the hidden stone stationed to oversee the supply lines and maintain order. Youji wore his Iwagakure headband across his forehead and his pair of katana at the left side of his hip, each wrapped in black cloth. His cerulean-blue eyes scanned their surroundings attentively as they walked closely to one another to meet the caravan headed to Sunagakure. It would be at least a 4-5 hour trip they had told him last night when he had volunteered to escort them in. The sun was already rising and with it the sweltering temperatures. It seemed hard to believe it was only Spring and that just yesterday they had been in Rock country, trekking through snow.
Already Youji found himself sweating lightly, despite the local attire. “If this is Spring, I would hate to experience the Summer heat” he lamented as he sighted the caravan waiting for them. They were a little late to be sure, and he was glad that he was right that they wouldn’t be so brazen to leave without a shinobi escort. Especially after the attack on the supply lines the night before. He noticed the way Datura’s face became sullen as she observed the damage to the sandstone buildings, the religious monuments in particular seemed to be treated with little regard by the Iwagakure invaders. Likely the temples were attacked and ransacked deliberately to reduce morale, and it seemed to have the desired affect. Everyone he looked, the wind country natives sneered at him, hatred in their eyes. Since Sunagakure’s fall, Datura was the first Suna shinobi he had made contact with, and he hadn’t seen the aftermath of the war himself. His heart sank knowing that at least in part he was responsible for this, though no one man could stop the march of the Iwagakure war machine. It seemed the Tsuchikage and self proclaimed Kazekage was intent on conquering the entire world, uniting everyone under Earth country’s banner. Yet if differences between nations could not be resolved then it seemed it would be an empire of tyranny.
As he made his way towards the caravan leader, they were approached by a beautiful young woman and a large, muscular man. Youji assessed the more intimidating figure, he was sure he could dispatch him quickly if need be. Though he relaxed slightly as the woman introduced herself as a citizen of Pebble country. Nonetheless, Youji took a step forward, putting himself between Datura and the newcomers. His left hand rested on the saya of one of his swords, his thumb just beneath the guard. “I suppose it is” he responded warily. He dipped his head respectfully after her bow. “Haziwara Youji; Special Jounin” he introduced. His eyes narrowed at the headband, “I’ve never heard of shinobi in Pebble country” he considered, was she perhaps a rogue shinobi that had moved there? Whatever the case, she seemed to have some authority as a peacekeeper between shinobi nations. He knew the samurai army of Pebble had taken over Iron country’s duties as peacekeepers after the former neutral nation had been conquered by a rogue shinobi of Kirigakure. And from what he heard, Kemurigakure, the hidden village founded in Iron, along with its leader; Mistaki Shio, had all been obliterated in recent years. He considered how to respond to her questions. He supposed it benefited Iwagakure to be forthright. “There was an attack last night on the train bringing in supplies from Rock country. I put a stop to it. It was Sunagakure rebels” he said, whispering that last bit of information under his breath. The last thing he needed was for locals to view Datura as a traitor to her people. He wouldn’t reveal her part in putting down the rebels if he could help it. “I’m not sure if that accounts for the missing supplies though” he considered. It was certainly possible some items had been pocketed before he dispatched them. He hadn’t recovered all the bodies in order to check them and he hadn’t stayed for the inventory count afterward. There was certainly room for Iwagakure shinobi to use the attack as a convenient scapegoat to line their own pockets.
Last edited by Izanagi on Sat Mar 01, 2025 6:10 pm, edited 2 times in total.
Karagata Shinjiro - Kiri Bannin; Jinchuuriki, Overseer of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, Kintsugi
Hyuuga Takeshi - Konoha Jounin; Anbu
Takeda Ichiro - A-Rank Waterfall Country; Black Wake, Chishiki, Setsuzoku
Haziwara Youji- Iwagakure Special Jounin
Jouchaku Shigeko - Kiri Genin; HHD
-
Kaida
- Posts: 193
- Joined: Sun Dec 22, 2024 11:41 pm
- Location: British Columbia Canada
- User flair: I was built to love and to burn
Supplies and Stores
The Spring heat warmed Datura’s body, though it did little to warm her mentally and emotionally. The toll on her spirit was obvious as her eyes tracked the extent of the damage done to her home. The people downtrodden, monuments and religious establishments sundered. She could barely find it in herself to laugh along with Yozei as he lamented the weather assaulting him. She imagined it to be quite the shift for him, going from cold and snowy mountains to a dry warm desert. She thought she’d be happier to be going home, but in truth she thought she’d have been happier to stay in the hotel with Yozei. Away from all this carnage and upheaval.
The black robes he had found suited him, and surely, they would offer some reprieve from the sun. Though the weather was milder than she was used to. Datura herself was in a white flowing dress with gold embroidery, no sleeves and two leg slits going up to just above her knee. It draped itself across her frame quite flatteringly, accentuating what curves remained. She knew that they had made an odd pair but wasn’t prepared for that to be noted just yet. She was content to let Yozei handle the conversation as her mind was elsewhere, but didn’t want to come off as rude. Following his lead, she introduced herself. “Naegi Datura, Suna Jounin.” Giving a halfhearted nod to the woman before them she let herself continue to survey their surroundings, unable to pull her eyes away.
The conversation droned on with her barely paying attention. She noted bits and pieces that soured her stomach. It was laughable that this young woman was sent on a mission to assess the quality of their lives under the guise that Iwa cared about them at all. What they cared about was conquering and tearing down anything outside of their scope of life. She could feel the rage once more building up through her lungs and had to forcibly swallow it down. Reminding herself of her lessons with Kiyori, a clouded mind helped no one and hurt everyone. Only through clarity and objectivity could you see what really lies before you. She breathed deeply to try and settle her emotions. She turned back to the woman, her eyes clearer now. “We are more or less an armed escort after the potential hijacking yesterday.” She moved slightly closer to Yozei then, craving his hand in her own to keep her grounded. She inched over slowly until she could catch whiffs of his scent, feeling her body relax slightly, still maintaining an appropriate distance though considering the circumstances they found themselves in whilst in public.
The black robes he had found suited him, and surely, they would offer some reprieve from the sun. Though the weather was milder than she was used to. Datura herself was in a white flowing dress with gold embroidery, no sleeves and two leg slits going up to just above her knee. It draped itself across her frame quite flatteringly, accentuating what curves remained. She knew that they had made an odd pair but wasn’t prepared for that to be noted just yet. She was content to let Yozei handle the conversation as her mind was elsewhere, but didn’t want to come off as rude. Following his lead, she introduced herself. “Naegi Datura, Suna Jounin.” Giving a halfhearted nod to the woman before them she let herself continue to survey their surroundings, unable to pull her eyes away.
The conversation droned on with her barely paying attention. She noted bits and pieces that soured her stomach. It was laughable that this young woman was sent on a mission to assess the quality of their lives under the guise that Iwa cared about them at all. What they cared about was conquering and tearing down anything outside of their scope of life. She could feel the rage once more building up through her lungs and had to forcibly swallow it down. Reminding herself of her lessons with Kiyori, a clouded mind helped no one and hurt everyone. Only through clarity and objectivity could you see what really lies before you. She breathed deeply to try and settle her emotions. She turned back to the woman, her eyes clearer now. “We are more or less an armed escort after the potential hijacking yesterday.” She moved slightly closer to Yozei then, craving his hand in her own to keep her grounded. She inched over slowly until she could catch whiffs of his scent, feeling her body relax slightly, still maintaining an appropriate distance though considering the circumstances they found themselves in whilst in public.
Last edited by Kaida on Sat Mar 01, 2025 9:52 pm, edited 4 times in total.
Jess
Naegi Datura ~ Jounin ~ Sunagakure
Takanada Miyuki ~ Jounin ~ Kirigakure
Nara Akemi ~ Special Jounin ~ Konohagakure ~ ANBU
Naegi Datura ~ Jounin ~ Sunagakure
Takanada Miyuki ~ Jounin ~ Kirigakure
Nara Akemi ~ Special Jounin ~ Konohagakure ~ ANBU
Supplies and Stores
Shizue sighed and tried not to look too out of her depth. What kind of caravan hired both a Special Jounin and a Jounin to guard it? She had accepted the mission thinking it was a routine security job, something simple to keep her occupied while she traveled. Now, she was beginning to suspect otherwise. She didn't know exactly how deep this rabbit hole went, but was more than willing to talk to these two to see, and if they proved to be a dry well, she would pump some of the other members of the caravan for more information.
She glanced back at the caravan and raised her eyebrows at Kaito, who shrugged, his hand resting idly on the hilt of his katana. His silence spoke volumes: he was just as wary as she was. She didn't know whether or not she should be more on guard, but decided that playing at being friendly was better than starting a bloodbath with a Jounin and a Special Jounin. If there was a depth meter, she was certainly in the deep end of this business.
Turning back to the others, she nodded to the Special Jounin, Youji, who seemed to be standing slightly between her and his superior—a Jounin from Sunagakure, whose expression was unreadable. It was a quiet but clear display of where authority lay. Shizue met his gaze evenly. "I am somewhat of a rarity," she admitted. "I was taught unconventionally, as well as conventionally. I call myself a shinobi so that people are more at ease with me. I notice that saying ‘samurai’ means something very different here than it does back home."
She gestured her sides, conspicuously bare of any weapon that could be considered a sword. "And I do not practice with a single-bladed weapon, so I could hardly be called a samurai—one who lives and dies by the sword. Kaito here—" she inclined her head toward the quiet man beside her "—however, is one of the samurai from Pebble. He's escorting me since I am a ways from home." She didn't know how much she could say of herself, or how much that statement said about her, her family, or her upbringing.
Kaito gave the faintest nod but said nothing, his gaze flickering to the surrounding streets and buildings. His presence was a quiet, solid thing, a contrast to Shizue’s more open demeanor. She was used to working alone, but traveling with a samurai had been a new experience. His discipline and efficiency were admirable, though she sometimes wondered how much he actually thought about the work he took on. He seemed to be ever vigilant, which made her ill at ease, it was like traveling with an animate statue. Even on the way here, he kept guard, never flagging. She wondered if she would ever be as hardened as Kaito was.
Shizue turned her attention back to Youji. "The attack last night—do you know how many there were, what their rough descriptions were, and how many might have escaped?" She pulled out a small notebook and began scrawling notes, her handwriting quick and precise. Shizue gave Youji a grateful smile when he admitted that the missing supplies might not all be accounted for. "I am here to gather as much information as possible," she assured him. "Not to judge anyone by it, or to make decisions or enemies."
Then she turned to the Jounin, Datura. "Naegi—" She tapped her paper with the pen, squinting slightly. "I feel like I’ve heard that name before. Is that a clan in Sunagakure?" She had done some research before arriving, but reading something on a scroll and seeing the place firsthand were two different things. She didn’t have an eidetic memory, hence the notes, and she wasn’t entirely sure if she was being polite or not.
She glanced between the two men, Kaito and Youji, sensing the tension between them. It was obvious, even without her trained instincts. There was a history there, something deeper than just professional wariness. Shizue considered pressing, but then thought better of it. Instead, she slipped the notebook away and stretched lightly.
"How about I buy us all some drinks? Maybe a proper meal," she suggested, flashing a disarming smile and hoping to ease the tension that had been building since she had approached the two. "I haven't eaten something that wasn’t road food for a while, and I already took inventory of the caravan. I can get your statements there in a more comfortable setting, with more background noise and where the walls have less ears or if we're lucky none at all. The caravan leader seems less than willing to talk at the moment."
She tilted her head toward the squat, stocky man in charge of the caravan, who was currently arguing with one of the city guards. The guard, for his part, managed to look bored, annoyed, and constipated all at once. The height difference alone made the exchange almost comical, but Shizue had no interest in dealing with that mess right now.
Kaito nodded in agreement, subtly keeping an eye on their surroundings. While he rarely spoke, he had a way of making his agreement known with body language alone. His approval meant he also agreed that discussing this out in the open might not be the best idea.
Shizue looked back to Youji and Datura. "So, do either of you know where to get some good food around here?"
She glanced back at the caravan and raised her eyebrows at Kaito, who shrugged, his hand resting idly on the hilt of his katana. His silence spoke volumes: he was just as wary as she was. She didn't know whether or not she should be more on guard, but decided that playing at being friendly was better than starting a bloodbath with a Jounin and a Special Jounin. If there was a depth meter, she was certainly in the deep end of this business.
Turning back to the others, she nodded to the Special Jounin, Youji, who seemed to be standing slightly between her and his superior—a Jounin from Sunagakure, whose expression was unreadable. It was a quiet but clear display of where authority lay. Shizue met his gaze evenly. "I am somewhat of a rarity," she admitted. "I was taught unconventionally, as well as conventionally. I call myself a shinobi so that people are more at ease with me. I notice that saying ‘samurai’ means something very different here than it does back home."
She gestured her sides, conspicuously bare of any weapon that could be considered a sword. "And I do not practice with a single-bladed weapon, so I could hardly be called a samurai—one who lives and dies by the sword. Kaito here—" she inclined her head toward the quiet man beside her "—however, is one of the samurai from Pebble. He's escorting me since I am a ways from home." She didn't know how much she could say of herself, or how much that statement said about her, her family, or her upbringing.
Kaito gave the faintest nod but said nothing, his gaze flickering to the surrounding streets and buildings. His presence was a quiet, solid thing, a contrast to Shizue’s more open demeanor. She was used to working alone, but traveling with a samurai had been a new experience. His discipline and efficiency were admirable, though she sometimes wondered how much he actually thought about the work he took on. He seemed to be ever vigilant, which made her ill at ease, it was like traveling with an animate statue. Even on the way here, he kept guard, never flagging. She wondered if she would ever be as hardened as Kaito was.
Shizue turned her attention back to Youji. "The attack last night—do you know how many there were, what their rough descriptions were, and how many might have escaped?" She pulled out a small notebook and began scrawling notes, her handwriting quick and precise. Shizue gave Youji a grateful smile when he admitted that the missing supplies might not all be accounted for. "I am here to gather as much information as possible," she assured him. "Not to judge anyone by it, or to make decisions or enemies."
Then she turned to the Jounin, Datura. "Naegi—" She tapped her paper with the pen, squinting slightly. "I feel like I’ve heard that name before. Is that a clan in Sunagakure?" She had done some research before arriving, but reading something on a scroll and seeing the place firsthand were two different things. She didn’t have an eidetic memory, hence the notes, and she wasn’t entirely sure if she was being polite or not.
She glanced between the two men, Kaito and Youji, sensing the tension between them. It was obvious, even without her trained instincts. There was a history there, something deeper than just professional wariness. Shizue considered pressing, but then thought better of it. Instead, she slipped the notebook away and stretched lightly.
"How about I buy us all some drinks? Maybe a proper meal," she suggested, flashing a disarming smile and hoping to ease the tension that had been building since she had approached the two. "I haven't eaten something that wasn’t road food for a while, and I already took inventory of the caravan. I can get your statements there in a more comfortable setting, with more background noise and where the walls have less ears or if we're lucky none at all. The caravan leader seems less than willing to talk at the moment."
She tilted her head toward the squat, stocky man in charge of the caravan, who was currently arguing with one of the city guards. The guard, for his part, managed to look bored, annoyed, and constipated all at once. The height difference alone made the exchange almost comical, but Shizue had no interest in dealing with that mess right now.
Kaito nodded in agreement, subtly keeping an eye on their surroundings. While he rarely spoke, he had a way of making his agreement known with body language alone. His approval meant he also agreed that discussing this out in the open might not be the best idea.
Shizue looked back to Youji and Datura. "So, do either of you know where to get some good food around here?"
Supplies and Stores
Youji noted Datura’s body language, she seemed distant, nearly dissociating due to the signs of Iwagakure’s war on her people’s lands. He had hoped there would have been more repairs made by now, though it seemed Iwa cared only for securing defensive positions and trade routes, placing little value on monuments of cultural significance. He spared a sympathetic glance, wishing again he could offer physical comfort, though he knew it would only draw more unwanted attention to their situation. The pair would face many such challenges when working alongside one another, publicly they would need to ensure a professional image during their joint missions.
The Special Jounin nodded, finding himself genuinely interested in Shizue’s training. “The world is certainly changing” he remained guarded. He had fought alongside samurai during the war, commanded them into battle but the idea of shinobi sharing their secrets with samurai nations still seemed wrong to him. Not because he feared what they would be capable of, but rather because the way of the shinobi would surely corrupt the honor and integrity that made samurai what they were. He respected their warrior code and had often wondered if he would have made a better samurai than a shinobi, though ultimately his prodigious talents with Katon would have been wasted if he had trained only in the sword. “These days the line between samurai and shinobi is blurred. Soon, the distinction will only be a thinly veiled difference in ethics” he surmised. It was a shame, to see the end of an era nearing. Yet the war had proven that shinobi forces were far superior and as a result samurai nations were forced to adapt in order to survive.
Youji nodded to acknowledge Kaito, meeting the gaze of the hardened warrior before him. He briefly wondered if Kaito had been there at the Iron Banner festival in Pebble, right before Iwagakure invaded Wind country. It had been a time of tentative peace, all nations gathering for festivities even as Iwa made their moves to spark the world into war once more, their greed for more land unsated. Now, Iwagakure on behalf of the Rock Daimyo had more than tripled the land mass they ruled over since that day just a few years prior. One by one the minor nations each fell under Iwa’s iron fist.
The Iwagakure shinobi’s bright blue eyes narrowed as Shizue inquired about the numbers of the rebel assailants. “There were eight of them. Five were killed, three captured and turned over to Iwagakure authorities stationed here in Daiura” he explained. “None escaped, but not all the bodies were recovered. Three of the dead fell off the train, still somewhere out in the desert” he stated, though he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming. He had informed the Jounin commander in charge of the city of the finer details, Shizue didn’t need to know anything that might compromise Iwagakure. “There were four other casualties as well, two civilians of Rock country and two samurai of Pebble, killed by one of the rebel Suna shinobi, the one I believe was the leader of the group” that was all he wished to speak of the matter for the time being. He was sure Iwagakure forces would reveal other details, painting the picture of a terrorist attack meant to incite war. He wished he could say they were wrong but certainly the rebels intended on doing more than simply stealing supplies. They had rigged the passenger compartments to explode and would have killed all 136 passengers if they hadn’t been there to stop them.
Youji held up a hand as Shizue offered to buy the pair food and drinks. “We appreciate the offer but we’re just about to depart to Sunagakure with the caravan. I’m sure you would be welcome to join us if you don’t mind the trek. Should only be about a 5- or 6-hour hike” he offered. He was sure that after crossing the desert together and braving any dangers that he would be more trusting of this woman and her companion. “Plenty of time for conversation and getting to know one another out there” he said with a gentle smile.
The Special Jounin nodded, finding himself genuinely interested in Shizue’s training. “The world is certainly changing” he remained guarded. He had fought alongside samurai during the war, commanded them into battle but the idea of shinobi sharing their secrets with samurai nations still seemed wrong to him. Not because he feared what they would be capable of, but rather because the way of the shinobi would surely corrupt the honor and integrity that made samurai what they were. He respected their warrior code and had often wondered if he would have made a better samurai than a shinobi, though ultimately his prodigious talents with Katon would have been wasted if he had trained only in the sword. “These days the line between samurai and shinobi is blurred. Soon, the distinction will only be a thinly veiled difference in ethics” he surmised. It was a shame, to see the end of an era nearing. Yet the war had proven that shinobi forces were far superior and as a result samurai nations were forced to adapt in order to survive.
Youji nodded to acknowledge Kaito, meeting the gaze of the hardened warrior before him. He briefly wondered if Kaito had been there at the Iron Banner festival in Pebble, right before Iwagakure invaded Wind country. It had been a time of tentative peace, all nations gathering for festivities even as Iwa made their moves to spark the world into war once more, their greed for more land unsated. Now, Iwagakure on behalf of the Rock Daimyo had more than tripled the land mass they ruled over since that day just a few years prior. One by one the minor nations each fell under Iwa’s iron fist.
The Iwagakure shinobi’s bright blue eyes narrowed as Shizue inquired about the numbers of the rebel assailants. “There were eight of them. Five were killed, three captured and turned over to Iwagakure authorities stationed here in Daiura” he explained. “None escaped, but not all the bodies were recovered. Three of the dead fell off the train, still somewhere out in the desert” he stated, though he wasn’t being entirely forthcoming. He had informed the Jounin commander in charge of the city of the finer details, Shizue didn’t need to know anything that might compromise Iwagakure. “There were four other casualties as well, two civilians of Rock country and two samurai of Pebble, killed by one of the rebel Suna shinobi, the one I believe was the leader of the group” that was all he wished to speak of the matter for the time being. He was sure Iwagakure forces would reveal other details, painting the picture of a terrorist attack meant to incite war. He wished he could say they were wrong but certainly the rebels intended on doing more than simply stealing supplies. They had rigged the passenger compartments to explode and would have killed all 136 passengers if they hadn’t been there to stop them.
Youji held up a hand as Shizue offered to buy the pair food and drinks. “We appreciate the offer but we’re just about to depart to Sunagakure with the caravan. I’m sure you would be welcome to join us if you don’t mind the trek. Should only be about a 5- or 6-hour hike” he offered. He was sure that after crossing the desert together and braving any dangers that he would be more trusting of this woman and her companion. “Plenty of time for conversation and getting to know one another out there” he said with a gentle smile.
Karagata Shinjiro - Kiri Bannin; Jinchuuriki, Overseer of the Seven Swordsmen of the Mist, Kintsugi
Hyuuga Takeshi - Konoha Jounin; Anbu
Takeda Ichiro - A-Rank Waterfall Country; Black Wake, Chishiki, Setsuzoku
Haziwara Youji- Iwagakure Special Jounin
Jouchaku Shigeko - Kiri Genin; HHD
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Kaida
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Supplies and Stores
Datura caught Yozei’s glance and gave him a small smile in return, her eyes lighting up briefly at the sight of him. She knew she was distant, but it was hard to wrap her head around what had happened to her home, and she wasn’t even in Suna yet. There was no telling what the village would look like upon arrival, and no way to prepare her for it. She wasn’t sure what she had thought happened to Wind country’s state of affairs in her time away, but this certainly wasn’t it.
She walked a little way away from Yozei, her eyes drawn to a dismantled statue of faith, her heart cracking at the sight of it. Religion had a high value in their culture, though she had never found a specific faith to follow herself, she knew there was something out there greater than those who walked the earth. She used to find peace in it, comfort even, knowing that whoever or whatever it was had a plan. Now, it made her angry. What possible plan could this be leading to? The things that made Suna different were why they were attacked in the first place. Their unaggressive stance on life made it easy to overthrow them and subsequently have their most revered monuments destroyed. Further pouring salt into an already gushing wound.
She trailed her fingertips along the fallen statue, lost in her thoughts. She trusted Yozei to fetch her when it was time to go and gave herself this moment of grief to process what it really meant to be going home. She knew that she would be missing friends from the war, possibly even family. But she had hoped to find comfort within the same walls that sheltered her and raised her. Now, anxiety gripped her heart at the thought that those walls might not be standing anymore.
Datura clued back in to the conversation upon hearing the description of the rebels, and her heart sunk. Having to kill her own people brought her no joy, no matter how many lives it saved. Watching Hideaki die...still felt like some twisted nightmare. A boy she had grown up with, turned out so differently. Though she wasn’t surprised it still felt wrong. She felt out of place after so long away from home and the only thing that made any of it right was Yozei, and the connection they shared. She breathed deeply for a few more minutes, focusing on that feeling and pushing her grief aside. There would be time to process it all later, perhaps she could visit Kiyori and sort it out more. For now, they needed to go.
She walked back over to Yozei, a small smile falling on her lips as she stared at him and the young woman. Standing beside him she subtly placed the tip of her hand to his elbow. “The more the merrier I always say, I am anxious to get home though. Perhaps it’s time we departed. I can tell you about my clan and Suna, I’m sure you’ll love it.” Her eyes glanced over to the woman, her rosy cheeks dimpled slightly at the friendly offer. “What was your name again?” Throughout her shock, she had completely forgotten her manners, letting her emotions get in the way of common decency.
She walked a little way away from Yozei, her eyes drawn to a dismantled statue of faith, her heart cracking at the sight of it. Religion had a high value in their culture, though she had never found a specific faith to follow herself, she knew there was something out there greater than those who walked the earth. She used to find peace in it, comfort even, knowing that whoever or whatever it was had a plan. Now, it made her angry. What possible plan could this be leading to? The things that made Suna different were why they were attacked in the first place. Their unaggressive stance on life made it easy to overthrow them and subsequently have their most revered monuments destroyed. Further pouring salt into an already gushing wound.
She trailed her fingertips along the fallen statue, lost in her thoughts. She trusted Yozei to fetch her when it was time to go and gave herself this moment of grief to process what it really meant to be going home. She knew that she would be missing friends from the war, possibly even family. But she had hoped to find comfort within the same walls that sheltered her and raised her. Now, anxiety gripped her heart at the thought that those walls might not be standing anymore.
Datura clued back in to the conversation upon hearing the description of the rebels, and her heart sunk. Having to kill her own people brought her no joy, no matter how many lives it saved. Watching Hideaki die...still felt like some twisted nightmare. A boy she had grown up with, turned out so differently. Though she wasn’t surprised it still felt wrong. She felt out of place after so long away from home and the only thing that made any of it right was Yozei, and the connection they shared. She breathed deeply for a few more minutes, focusing on that feeling and pushing her grief aside. There would be time to process it all later, perhaps she could visit Kiyori and sort it out more. For now, they needed to go.
She walked back over to Yozei, a small smile falling on her lips as she stared at him and the young woman. Standing beside him she subtly placed the tip of her hand to his elbow. “The more the merrier I always say, I am anxious to get home though. Perhaps it’s time we departed. I can tell you about my clan and Suna, I’m sure you’ll love it.” Her eyes glanced over to the woman, her rosy cheeks dimpled slightly at the friendly offer. “What was your name again?” Throughout her shock, she had completely forgotten her manners, letting her emotions get in the way of common decency.
Jess
Naegi Datura ~ Jounin ~ Sunagakure
Takanada Miyuki ~ Jounin ~ Kirigakure
Nara Akemi ~ Special Jounin ~ Konohagakure ~ ANBU
Naegi Datura ~ Jounin ~ Sunagakure
Takanada Miyuki ~ Jounin ~ Kirigakure
Nara Akemi ~ Special Jounin ~ Konohagakure ~ ANBU
Supplies and Stores
Shizue stood in the dry, hot desert air, feeling the heat settle deep into her bones. The sun beat down overhead, and the dry winds swept across the landscape, carrying the faint smell of sand and dust. The heat was nothing new—she had lived in the harsh climates surrounding Sunagakure for most of her life. The winds, however, were something else entirely. They had a way of whispering the world’s secrets, or so she liked to think. Perhaps that’s why she didn’t mind the desert’s harsh embrace so much. It held its own kind of beauty, one that people from cooler climates often didn’t understand. She didn’t mind the way it stripped the unnecessary away, leaving only the essentials behind.
Her eyes flickered back to the caravan, noting the tired and wary faces of those who had traveled with it. The dust, the faded colors of their clothing, the way their feet shifted in the sand—everything about them seemed to whisper of exhaustion. Of long days spent under the scorching sun, and long nights under the harsh, unforgiving sky.
Shizue felt a surge of empathy for them, but it was a quiet one. She had learned over the years to keep her emotions in check, to avoid getting too entangled with the people she encountered during her work. The desert didn’t care for attachments. She had seen too many people come and go—some thriving, others breaking beneath its weight.
She had already written down everything she needed regarding the missing supplies from the caravan. Her careful eyes had swept over the crates and wagons, noting the small discrepancies in the cargo that the bandits had taken. There was no need to ask too many questions now. It was clear that the supplies had been stolen during the attack, likely to be sold off in some distant market. The caravan had been severely compromised. However, there was something more in the air that tugged at her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on yet. The attack itself didn’t feel random. It felt as though the attackers knew exactly what they were after. She had no doubt that there was more to this story than just a simple robbery.
Shizue’s eyes narrowed as she thought about the rebels. There was something familiar about their methods, the way they had moved, the way they had planned the attack. The timing, too—it wasn’t just an attack on a caravan. There was a larger message here, one she wasn’t sure the caravan or the people surrounding her were privy to. She couldn’t help but wonder what the true motive was behind the assault. It seemed strange, too—so much time and effort put into a seemingly small act of theft, with such precision.
But that was a question for later.
The more immediate matter at hand was the journey ahead. Six hours across the desert would take them to Sunagakure. She’d been there many times before, but it always felt different each time, as if it changed with the wind itself. The shifting dunes held secrets, and those who moved through them couldn’t escape the constant watch of the desert. People like her, people of knowledge, could understand that—if they were observant enough. She had spent years studying the land around the desert village, learning its rhythms, its whispers. It wasn’t just the people who had stories to tell. The sand, the wind, the heat—they all had something to say if you were willing to listen.
Shizue could hear Kaito, her ever-steady bodyguard, moving silently behind her, his footsteps a mere whisper against the desert floor. He was already preparing their things, a sign of his thoroughness. He never spoke much, but she had always trusted him. He was a steady force, a grounding presence. Even in moments like these, when everything around her felt like it was shifting and changing, he was constant. His silence was a comfort, a reminder that there was always someone there, watching her back. It was a small thing, but it mattered.
She adjusted her cloak, the heavy fabric offering a little bit of relief against the scorching heat. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do for now. She was used to the desert’s heat by now. Her body had adapted to the dry, stinging air that had once made her lungs ache with each breath. Now it was second nature. She could feel the sweat beginning to bead on her forehead, but she didn’t wipe it away. There was no point. The sun was unrelenting, and all she could do was continue moving forward.
She turned back toward Youji and Datura, who were already preparing to leave. It wasn’t often that she joined other groups on their travels. Typically, she preferred to remain a step outside, observing and analyzing, but this time was different. They were heading to Sunagakure, and there were things she still needed to know.
Shizue didn’t make a habit of accepting offers like theirs, but there was something in the way Youji had spoken earlier, in the way he had offered the journey, that had caught her attention. It wasn’t just about the mission or the interview anymore—it was about what lay beneath the surface. She had learned long ago that you could learn more about people through what they didn’t say than what they did. And right now, she was curious.
Her gaze met Youji’s, sharp and calculating, but with a small hint of something more. Something that might have been curiosity, or perhaps understanding. There was no telling with Shizue. She had always been a difficult one to read.
“Six hours across the desert,” she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible above the wind. The thought of the long trek felt somewhat daunting, but it also felt like an opportunity. She could ask her questions, learn more, and perhaps uncover more than she had anticipated.
Turning to Kaito, she gave a quick nod. "Get the supplies ready. We're traveling with them." Her voice was firm, a command without hesitation.
Kaito nodded once, his stoic face giving no indication of anything more than quiet agreement. He was efficient, prepared, and never questioned her decisions. He moved off to their packs, already beginning to organize their things for the journey ahead.
Shizue glanced over at Datura as she walked back toward her and Youji. There was a subtle shift in Datura’s expression, an almost imperceptible change, but it didn’t go unnoticed. She had been a soldier once, and soldiers were good at reading people. The others might have missed it, but Shizue didn’t. She caught it like a glimmer in the sand.
The wind swept past again, and Shizue felt it bite into her skin. The heat was stifling, but the wind carried with it a strange sense of anticipation. Something about this journey didn’t feel entirely safe, and though the caravan had just arrived and the immediate danger had passed, the unease hadn’t left. She could sense the undercurrent of tension in the air, as though there was more waiting for them, hidden just beneath the surface.
“Shall we go then?” she said, her voice sharp and measured, her eyes never leaving Youji and Datura.
It was more a statement than a question. She was ready now, ready to move on. The desert had a way of swallowing everything, leaving only the echoes of what once was. And in that silence, she would find what she needed.
Her eyes flickered back to the caravan, noting the tired and wary faces of those who had traveled with it. The dust, the faded colors of their clothing, the way their feet shifted in the sand—everything about them seemed to whisper of exhaustion. Of long days spent under the scorching sun, and long nights under the harsh, unforgiving sky.
Shizue felt a surge of empathy for them, but it was a quiet one. She had learned over the years to keep her emotions in check, to avoid getting too entangled with the people she encountered during her work. The desert didn’t care for attachments. She had seen too many people come and go—some thriving, others breaking beneath its weight.
She had already written down everything she needed regarding the missing supplies from the caravan. Her careful eyes had swept over the crates and wagons, noting the small discrepancies in the cargo that the bandits had taken. There was no need to ask too many questions now. It was clear that the supplies had been stolen during the attack, likely to be sold off in some distant market. The caravan had been severely compromised. However, there was something more in the air that tugged at her, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on yet. The attack itself didn’t feel random. It felt as though the attackers knew exactly what they were after. She had no doubt that there was more to this story than just a simple robbery.
Shizue’s eyes narrowed as she thought about the rebels. There was something familiar about their methods, the way they had moved, the way they had planned the attack. The timing, too—it wasn’t just an attack on a caravan. There was a larger message here, one she wasn’t sure the caravan or the people surrounding her were privy to. She couldn’t help but wonder what the true motive was behind the assault. It seemed strange, too—so much time and effort put into a seemingly small act of theft, with such precision.
But that was a question for later.
The more immediate matter at hand was the journey ahead. Six hours across the desert would take them to Sunagakure. She’d been there many times before, but it always felt different each time, as if it changed with the wind itself. The shifting dunes held secrets, and those who moved through them couldn’t escape the constant watch of the desert. People like her, people of knowledge, could understand that—if they were observant enough. She had spent years studying the land around the desert village, learning its rhythms, its whispers. It wasn’t just the people who had stories to tell. The sand, the wind, the heat—they all had something to say if you were willing to listen.
Shizue could hear Kaito, her ever-steady bodyguard, moving silently behind her, his footsteps a mere whisper against the desert floor. He was already preparing their things, a sign of his thoroughness. He never spoke much, but she had always trusted him. He was a steady force, a grounding presence. Even in moments like these, when everything around her felt like it was shifting and changing, he was constant. His silence was a comfort, a reminder that there was always someone there, watching her back. It was a small thing, but it mattered.
She adjusted her cloak, the heavy fabric offering a little bit of relief against the scorching heat. It wasn’t much, but it would have to do for now. She was used to the desert’s heat by now. Her body had adapted to the dry, stinging air that had once made her lungs ache with each breath. Now it was second nature. She could feel the sweat beginning to bead on her forehead, but she didn’t wipe it away. There was no point. The sun was unrelenting, and all she could do was continue moving forward.
She turned back toward Youji and Datura, who were already preparing to leave. It wasn’t often that she joined other groups on their travels. Typically, she preferred to remain a step outside, observing and analyzing, but this time was different. They were heading to Sunagakure, and there were things she still needed to know.
Shizue didn’t make a habit of accepting offers like theirs, but there was something in the way Youji had spoken earlier, in the way he had offered the journey, that had caught her attention. It wasn’t just about the mission or the interview anymore—it was about what lay beneath the surface. She had learned long ago that you could learn more about people through what they didn’t say than what they did. And right now, she was curious.
Her gaze met Youji’s, sharp and calculating, but with a small hint of something more. Something that might have been curiosity, or perhaps understanding. There was no telling with Shizue. She had always been a difficult one to read.
“Six hours across the desert,” she muttered to herself, her voice barely audible above the wind. The thought of the long trek felt somewhat daunting, but it also felt like an opportunity. She could ask her questions, learn more, and perhaps uncover more than she had anticipated.
Turning to Kaito, she gave a quick nod. "Get the supplies ready. We're traveling with them." Her voice was firm, a command without hesitation.
Kaito nodded once, his stoic face giving no indication of anything more than quiet agreement. He was efficient, prepared, and never questioned her decisions. He moved off to their packs, already beginning to organize their things for the journey ahead.
Shizue glanced over at Datura as she walked back toward her and Youji. There was a subtle shift in Datura’s expression, an almost imperceptible change, but it didn’t go unnoticed. She had been a soldier once, and soldiers were good at reading people. The others might have missed it, but Shizue didn’t. She caught it like a glimmer in the sand.
The wind swept past again, and Shizue felt it bite into her skin. The heat was stifling, but the wind carried with it a strange sense of anticipation. Something about this journey didn’t feel entirely safe, and though the caravan had just arrived and the immediate danger had passed, the unease hadn’t left. She could sense the undercurrent of tension in the air, as though there was more waiting for them, hidden just beneath the surface.
“Shall we go then?” she said, her voice sharp and measured, her eyes never leaving Youji and Datura.
It was more a statement than a question. She was ready now, ready to move on. The desert had a way of swallowing everything, leaving only the echoes of what once was. And in that silence, she would find what she needed.