Land of Rivers pt.1
- Degurashi Port, Land of Tea -
It’s raining, again. For the past four nights and days, nothing but non stop wind and rain. Some locals say that it must be the work of the gods of old, as punishment for our disobedience. The Land of Tea was once a relatively peaceful part of the world, with only the occasional spat of violence, but then again the same could be said for anywhere within the shinobi world. If only the rain would stop, then at least we would have something positive in our dreary lives.
Others believe the rain is a gift, not a curse. Perhaps a kind hearted God is washing away our sins, or washing the blood from our hands. The more rational of men would simply say it’s raining, as it does every year and will continue to do so every year from now. Despite the downpour, merchants still work tirelessly, pitching and selling to as many of the occasional tourist or innocent bystander as they can, hosts and hostesses ushering locals out of the rain and into tea houses, the token stray dogs scampering off into some seedy alley in search of shelter. Life continues, as inconspicuously as usual, but it’s there, something not quite palpable, but rather the prickle on the back of the neck, a tingle in the spine. Present, but unspoken.
This is a world at war. But war is never a concern until it knocks on your door, until it kills your children. So life carries on, because what else can it do.
Shun shoulders his bag again, it won’t stop trying to fall off, as though it wishes to flee, except it doesn’t because it’s a bag. The rain hammering at his feet, Shun doesn’t stop. He’s been walking for around six days now, or maybe seven. He’d already lost count. His destination: anywhere other than home, that nameless, godforsaken place he would rather die than return to. He has nothing to warm himself with, though he reckoned a quick katon jutsu would do the trick. Except that wasn’t an option. Since the elusive Ahma become the world’s wealthiest kunai producer, chakra itself has become monopolised. It can be bought and sold to those with the means to own it, although what that entailed exactly, Shun wasn’t sure, as he himself had no chakra to speak of as far as he knew.
It’ll be two days at least till he reaches the border, and crosses into the Land of Fire. Konohagakure. Now there’s somewhere he definitely didn’t want to visit. After all Konohagakure was one of the first great ninja village’s to rebel against Ahma and declare that all citizens may use chakra freely, no charge applicable. Or so they say.
- Daikon, Land of Vegetables -
Ryouko squinted up at the clouds from her perch on the roof. Was it going to rain? She reckoned it would; the sky was greying, the light fading away into darkness despite barely even being lunch time yet. A stomach rumbled. No, it was not hers, she would never admit to that even on pain of death, but she had to admit that said stomach had the right idea. Maybe she should just skip lunch and head straight for dinner? Ah fresh Kintoki Ninjin and rice for dinner. What a funny name, Kintoki.
“Ryo-Chan!”
Oh, great.
”Ryo-Chan! Ryo-Chan, Ryo-Chan!”
“Yes, Aiko-Chan?”
”What’s it like, being able to touch and to taste?” The young girl asked excitedly, bouncing whilst doing so, as though that was the most normal question in the world. The question struck Ryouko a little, reminding her of Aiko-Chan’s current living status. That being: unalived. In truth, Ryouko had been haunted by those not at peace for most her life, although haunted may be little harsh. Truly all these ghosts ever do is bother her or complain about being dead, more of a nuisance than a sadness.
”It’s not that great Aiko-Chan, think of all the gross things I have to touch and hear and taste, and especially smell. You’re very lucky, ya know!”
”What kinds of gross things?”
”Just generally gross things.”
”Like what?”
”Don’t ask Aiko-Chan”
Lightening crackled above, static electricity floating inconspicuously through the air, thunder roaring not long after. Just great.
”You should probably go inside, Ryo-Chan.” Probably.
Ryouko sat at the little half broken table in the corner of the room, staring blankly out the single-framed window, watching the rain pelt down. Aiko-Chan stared expectantly. Ryouko sighed.
”I’m really leaving, ya know.”
”You don’t have to Ryo-Chan, things could get better. The war could stop-“
”It won’t. It won’t for a long time Aiko-Chan, you of all people should know that. It might never stop, not in my lifetime.” She spared a glance at the thin ghost. “It certainly didn’t in yours.”
“Where will you go?” She asked, spirit quite obviously crushed (literally).
”Sunagakure, if I’m lucky. Chakra is still free there, I’ve heard. Or maybe Konohagakure, if they would stop killing each other for five seconds.”
She held a corner of Chakura Kannoshi, watching it slowly become damp, a constant reminder of the stagnant chakra sat passively in her veins, expectant. Expecting her to make use of it or be rid of it. Both of those are dangerous options, with death as an assured companion should she choose to do either.
“Good luck, Ryo-Chan!” The young ghost chirped, clearly trying to dispel the tense atmosphere.
”Thanks, I’ll need it, Aiko-Chan.”
- Sunakagure, Land of Wind -
Storm clouds gathered overhead. How unusual. Sunagakure was less prone to rain than other nations due to its desert terrain. She paid the skies no mind, instead contemplating from atop her position staring down at the village, or what was once a village. She had fought, of course she had, herself and her entire family. As well as the Hoki Clan, and the descendants of the Kazekage, all the great powerful ninja, all working seamlessly together to repel Ahma. But it wasn’t enough. Bodies lay strewn across the village, yet to be cleaned up. Shinobi corpses are now highly sought after when still fresh, the removal of active chakra to be sold becoming an ever growing threat.
What was the point? If we are all destined to die for others’ greediness, then what is the point?
Shinju tried to summon her chakra, even just the tiniest amount would do, but nothing came. No flow of life force, no surge of power in her veins, nothing. Not gone, she would surely die if it had been removed from her. No, her chakra had simply become dormant, unusable. They used this method sometimes, if they deemed a shinobi’s chakra to be too weak to sell, as only the finest, most powerful chakra would do.
She couldn’t stay, there was nothing left for her here, no one left. It wouldn’t do to die in a desert of all places either.
She rose on not-so-subtlety shaking legs, completely exhausted, and made for the edge of the village. Yes, she would leave, but where to? Her corroded chakra pathways would prevent her from using any jutsu, so she’s almost entirely defenceless and alone in a war-torn world.
No matter.
She carried on anyway, despite knowing the dangers. Shinju would rather die attempting to find peace, than to die alone in a desolate land.