Grasslands
Tomoya stood at the edge of the old port, breathing in the sea air he had grown accustomed to.
A rare moment of self-reflection graced his features, the sun revealing flecks of red hidden in his brown hair. A softened gaze, his eyes adjusted to the last of golden rays piercing through the burning sky, kissing the horizon goodnight.
In Tomoya’s hand was a worn Kusagakure forehead protector, getting ready to be thrown into the ocean. Arm outstretched, the band’s metal insignia gleamed in face of the blazing sun as the hand that was grasping it didn’t let go.
Tomoya quietly stuffed the headband back in his bag and sat on the pier cross legged.
‘It’s too early.’ A single thought floated through his mind, his eyes wandering the oceans meeting land, the Land of Fire bordered the ocean, and past that, many ways away, lay the Hidden Grass Village, Kusagakure.
Tomoya knew very little of his own family history, only knowing that one of his great grandparents happened to be an Uzumaki who immigrated to that small unknown country after the end of Uzushiogakure. It had not been an easy existence, with bright red hair among the masses of bleak brown, a trait that Tomoya himself had inherited.
He had grown up hearing stories of Mito Uzumaki, the wife of the first Hokage from the Hidden Leaf, and the first jinchuuriki. The prowess of fuinjutsu, the sealing techniques that were specialized and perfected over thousands of years by the Uzumaki. All these stories rich in its history, spoken of over weak fires in hushed voices in his poor corner of the world.
It was his family’s greatest disappointment that none of their immediate descendents inherited these gifts, and that the only one who did ran away to the desolate reality of the homeland they only dreamed of.
The fact that Tomoya had inherited an extremely unorthodox Uzumaki jutsu made him vulnerable to the greed that plagues Kusagakure. That village didn’t mind killing hundreds and throwing their corpses to the grass fields that were strong off the decaying bodies that littered them.
“Oh, right. I was here for work…” He sighed loudly while getting up and turned to climb up the sandy hill behind the pier back to his base of operations he affectionately nicknamed, “Anti-Konoha HQ”.
Wasabi was waiting at the more intact building Tomoya was assigned to for resource management. He kept all the imports that they received, and made sure they were being used properly since there wasn’t much to go around. His job at the moment was the most important, but he knew that at some point he wouldn’t be needed.
“Finally… give me back my headband!” Wasabi demanded loudly as she jumped up from her spot.
“Shh… you’ll wake the neighbors.”
“There’s less than sixty people on this whole island!”
“Hm. Well, if you want it back that badly…” He reached into his bag and started muttering under his breath.
“Hey, no fuinjutsu!”
“Too late.” Tomoya pulled the headband up quickly from his bag and dropped it from high up, a seal appeared on his bare upper arm before the headband completely dissolved into it.
“Man, you always know how to piss people off.”
“No, I happen to really like this color. Dark green reminds me of the grass plains I was raised on.... I had to take it from you.”
“Yeah, no need to spout your fake stories. Boruto definitely ordered that one specifically for me! It’s been my color since my genin days.”
“You know he doesn’t have the thoughtfulness to do that.”
“You’re one to talk about thoughtfulness! Ugh, I should just claw your arm apart.”
“Fuinjutsu doesn’t work like that.”
“Oh, yeah, as if you’re the only ninja in the world who knows how scrolls work.”
“The only ninja on this island, I’m pretty sure.”
“You…” Wasabi was tired of this constant arguing, it was like this almost everyday for no good reason. It wasn’t her fault she got riled up so easily. Tomoya always knew which buttons to press, the only one not bothered by his slyness was Mitsuki. If anything, Mitsuki is the one person who can handle Tomoya since they both had a weird mutual respect for one another.
Tomoya knew he’d be an easily forgettable figure if he didn’t have that mouth of his running with some kind of jab at all hours of the day. It secretly gave him joy to see Wasabi Izuno of the Leaf writhe under his every word.
“Izuno… you know we’re allies. And ninjas that are good with fuinjutsu! I know you’re just bored and want to play around. Why do you think I took your headband?”
“Um… I’m an aide to Boruto now. I don’t like ‘playing’”. Wasabi came back with a weak defense for herself, it was clear that she started to get restless on the island.
“I understand if you’re feeling lonely. You only have me, Mitsuki, and Boruto around and I know we’re not the best playmates for you…” Tomoya feigned a frown while patting Wasabi’s head.
“Keep the headband. I won’t chase after you.” She swiped Tomoya’s hand off her head and smoothed her hair back.
“But then I’ll be lonely…” Tomoya crossed his arms behind his back, slowly extracting the headband from the seal in his arm so that the dark green clad ninja wouldn’t notice.
“By the gods, you’re so weird.”
“Maybe so. You should get back to work before Mitsuki catches you slacking off.” As soon as it was removed, he held out the dark green whirlpool headband and gave her a smile.
“Whatever, make sure you don’t skip your meals with us anymore. Mitsuki might get you for that.” Wasabi took the headband happily, her facial expression betraying her aggressive tone, and bowed quickly towards Tomoya before running back up the path to the main road.
‘She’s such a nice girl… but so contrary.’ He laughed to himself thinking about how she just spent those last couple minutes speaking with her voice raised, yet still bowed to him since he was her senior. Tomoya swung the door open to his base, and entered the darkened room.
Pushing through the maze of boxes and scattered papers, the upper floor was accessible with a clumsily tied rope ladder made by Boruto, as a sort of ‘housewarming’ gift. Tomoya was the third member to join the New Uzushiogakure alliance, and an unexpected one at that, so his living arrangements and job were just as hurriedly assigned.
A bare upstairs, as unfurnished a house could get, if one wanted to even call it that. Tomoya climbed up the ladder he also had become accustomed to as ‘home’, and surveyed his tiny space. A futon was pushed into the corner, books tied up and placed in a large tower stacked on top of each other, bags that were used as storage for clothes and other items, and half used candles that was his only light source during the night.
Tomoya was finally alone in his own space. He took off his shirt and reached for the towel he kept hanging on the wall, wiping off the dirt from the day. His scarred hand lightly touched his chest, his palm revealing a seal and he pulled out a sword he had found while scavenging through the wreckage. It clattered on the floor. He did the same thing on his stomach, and out came another sword, in his left bicep, a small knife adorned with a whirlpool carving. On his back he pulled out his biggest find, a spear made from silver, and its hilt glittered with rubies. Obviously decorational, but extremely beautiful among the waste.
It was unknown to even him how many things he had sealed in his body at that point. It didn’t help that the seals dissolved as soon as an object came out or sealed in. This strange trait he had inherited as the ‘Will of the Uzumaki’. Being able to seal almost anything in your own body had its perks, he had no need for storage, or bags, but he kept one to not cause a scene in public.
His great grandfather might have been proud, or confused as to why the sealing jutsu abilities manifested into Tomoya’s body rather than solely his chakra.
Even so, it was no secret that in some way, the small Uzumaki part of him had set root into his soul, and that his goal in the land of his ancestors might be reached if he kept searching among the ruins.