Land of Wind

[STORY]

 

[STORY]

In the wake of the great war that united the minor nations, yet simultaneously divided them from the Five Great Nations, tensions remain ever present. Peace exists in name alone, though the war has ended nothing was truly resolved. The minor nations remain bitter, defeated and unheard while the greater nations maintain eyes of skepticism and distrust on the defeated. Yes, this thing called peace treads loosely on a razor’s edge, the chord maintaining it liable to break at any moment…

.::SOMEWHERE WITHIN THE LAND OF WIND::.

Within the Land of Wind, the winds howl furiously, constantly kicking up the desert sands, making visibility all but possible. Known as the Dry Sea (乾き海 Kawaki Umi), the desert sands stretch as far as the eye can behold, one’s own feet sinking within the very sands that surround them. When combined with the scorching of the sun one feels as if they’re trudging through a grainy swamp, sapping at both their stamina and their will to carry on. How many lives were lost from hapless travelers blindly wandering through such a place? Undoubtedly more than any man could count. It stands to reason that the Kazekage would take precautions to prevent such an outcome, done in the form of the Hidden Sand ninja scattered and hidden within this very place.

“How much longer before shift change?” A male shinobi calls out, his form barely visible from the sand storm. It is this same storm that makes uncertain as to who exactly he was talking to, impossible to see anyone within such a mess. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?!” Another voice called out. From their words, it seemed they couldn’t hear their fellow shinobi properly. Not unexpected, what with this constant wind howling like some wounded beast. “I SAID- HOW MUCH LONGER UNT- HOLD UP! DO YOU SEE THAT?!” In the middle of repeating himself, something distracts the shinobi, though what he could have noticed in such conditions remains to be seen. Yet, these shinobi are skilled, accustomed to environments such as these. He along with his partner peers out into the Dry Sea, eyes squinting as something slowly begins emerging from the whirling, thrashing sands. It starts off as a blur…then becomes a silhouette…finally it can be seen. It's a person, their body hidden behind a tattered hooded cloak.

“Another person lost in this place.” They concluded, seeing the somewhat uneven steps of the cloaked individual trudging through the knee high sea of sand. “HEY! YOU THERE! STOP AND TURN AROUND! YOU WONT MAKE IT THIS WAY!” They call out, hoping to warn the poor sap. Yet oddly enough, the individual does not stop, does not react to their words at all, continuing along their path. Could it be they hadn’t heard them because of the sand storm? “HEY YOU! I SAID TURN AROUND! YOU HAVE TO TURN AROUND AND GO BACK!” They call out louder this time, yet still the individual does not react or respond in any way, staying true to their course. It is now clear that this is no mistake, this person was no lost traveler. Many Sand Shinobi begin making their presence known, numerous hidden silhouettes appearing through the storm. “ENEMY SPOTTED! ALL SHINOBI PREPARE TO ENGAGE SHOULD THE TARGET CONTINUE TO ADVANCE!” They hoped that through this show of force, it would deter whoever this person was. The cloaked figure finally comes to a stop. Had the presence of so many shinobi brought them to their senses? Frightened them into abandoning this path they were on? Beneath their hood, their face was impossible to see, even more when considering the storm of sand. What could faintly be made out however, was a wide toothed grin.

SUNAGAKURE

“Hurry up with those files!” Amaisa’s voice can be heard through the bustling noise of the Kazekage’s administrative building. Still, even as she shouts out commands her voice is soft and as smooth as silk. The many bodies running around do so vigorously, eager to please her. “Amaisa-sama, has the location for this year’s exam been decided yet?” A shinobi asks, arms filled with stacks of papers reaching up to his chin. “Kazekage-sama, these are the list of names and the files on the Genin being considered and recommended for this year.” The Chūnin Exams were several months away. Many villages were preparing their shinobi to take the exams, yet the location for this year’s exam was yet to be decided. It was difficult, outright impossible it seemed for everyone to agree on one location. Those of the minor nations declared it was time for it to be held somewhere beyond the influence of the Five Major nations, while the Five Kage were hesitant to do so. Since the war’s end there had been a great many number of…accidents during the exam. Many of these accidents involved the death of Genin from the Five Nations. It was clear the Coalition still felt bitter about the treaty, and it seemed they were using the exams to vent their anger, hoping to nip promising shinobi early on through their own genin. Amaisa takes the files of the genin, and begins walking away, stopping briefly. “We’re…still discussing the matter of the location.

That was all she could give the man in response. She knew they were no closer now than they were a few months ago. She continued walking off, her every step drawing the eyes of men and women alike around her, distracted from their duties finding themselves entranced by their Kage’s beauty. She leafs through the various files of the genin. She had to consider many things, their scores and aptitude of course, but also how they would fair should the genin from the Coalition villages try something. She wonders if-

“L-lady Kazekage!” A sand ninja burst through the doors, their every step, every movement carrying with it a trail of blood. His uniform was in tatters, deep lacerations covering his body. The man stumbled to the ground, wheezing and coughing up blood. He was mumbling something as Amaisa rushed to his side. She and the man are surrounded by those who had been working mere moments before, now caught in the suspense of what exactly was going on. What had happened to this man? “Arikui? What’s going on? Tell me, what happened? Who could have done this to you?” Arikui was a rather skilled and competent shinobi. It was him who Amaisa trusted with sensitive tasks. “La-Lady..Kazekage. I’m sorry…I’m so sorry” His wheezing voice cracked and wavered as he spoke. Blood continued to pool from him, seeping from his wounds and mouth as tears trickled down his face. Here was a man dedicated to his mission. The Kage had entrusted him with a task and he had failed. “Quiet Arikui! You have nothing to apologize for. Focus on recovering. “WHERE’S THE MEDIC?!” Kneeled down beside him she calls out, demanding their medical nin hurry here. “It’s gone, Lady Kazekage.” He reaches up with a weak and bloody hand, grabbing her bare shoulder. “It’s gone..they..took…it.” His voice growing softer and quieter as he spoke before finally…he was gone. His hand that had been on her shoulder falls lifelessly to his side. The room grows quiet as the Kazekage remains kneeling there, her pristine skin now stained with the blood of her subordinate.

She slowly rises to her feet. “See that his body is preserved and taken care of. Also, see what we can discover of the enemy who did this to him.” She turns to face those surrounding her. “I need a small team of shinobi to come with me. Someone contact Ryōhoshi, inform her I have need of a Wayfinder.”

In the arid, breathless desert, where the sun ruled unchallenged by the heavens, the silent agony of Arikui’s final words echoed in Amaisa’s mind. The once-vibrant light in his eyes had faded, leaving her with only a disquieting mystery—“It’s gone, Lady Kazekage. They… took it...” The cryptic nature of his dying words gnawed at her, however there was no time for grief and loathing, not yet. Her mind was already darting to the place his last words led her, to the desert’s deepest secret—a place no ordinary shinobi knew about existed, a place veiled in the unforgiving wind. This treacherous place was meticulously chosen, as the Kazekage before her believed it to be the most prime location to house something so precious. A power that could tip the tides of battle.

Amaisa stood as still, frozen like a statue, her features untouched by the emotion burning beneath her poised exterior, face still hidden behind the veil that covers her face. The blood on her shoulder had dried, a grim testament to what was at stake. She summoned her will and, with a single glance to her gathered shinobi, spoke softly, “Ready my escort. We leave... immediately.”

Outside the gates of Sunagakure, the desert winds raged on; the strength of the winds increased to the direction where even residents of Sunagakure dare not venture—The Dry Sea. However for Amaisa, the shifting sands were no hindrance; they bent to her will, she found herself boarding a desert vessel designed and customary to the Wayfinders; also known as the Hokushin Clan and departed the bounds of Sunagakure in a rush. As they traversed deeper into the wilderness, the sandstorm enveloped them, an impenetrable shroud to the untrained eye, but Amaisa’s power over the desert guided her effortlessly—in tandem with the Hokushin—whom she trusted to guide her to that place and piloted this desert craft. The wind carried them, the sands acting very much like an actual sea as it carried them towards the hidden facility, concealed beneath dunes that whispered of the misbegotten unfortunate souls that were either too foolish to find their own guide or lucked out on surviving this desert.

They soon approached the location which should have been guarded, half-buried and would have been initially sealed and camouflaged in with the desert, imperceptible to any who did not know its existence. Instead, as they approached their eyes took in the ghastly sight of destruction. The surrounding area was decimated, sand sinking into massive craters within the desert. Bodies were scattered and littered about, the shinobi who had fought bravely alongside Arikui to defend this place…but to no avail.

“Wait for me here.” She commands those who travelled with her as she ventures into the heart of the destruction before her. She walks past the scattered broken kunai, the corpses, deeper. Further past the large dunes that dip into an unassuming cave. It was dark inside, but she knew the way.

Her journey eventually sees Amaisa approach vault doors with a sense of trepidation... As her fingers brushed over the cold metal, she realized the truth before her eyes confirmed it. The door had been breached. In a way no ordinary thief could ever manage, the lock was undone as if by some unseen force, as though the desert itself had conspired to aid them. In the caverns of this hidden place, the object—Amaisa's prized possession, safeguarded by generations of Kage—was gone...

The hollow space in the groove on the wall stirred an immense amount of unease in her. It is no ordinary theft, she thought bitterly. This is an omen, the beginning of something far more harrowing. The very essence of the desert seemed to mourn the absence of what was once held there as winds howled in cries, a relic so vital to the balance of power that if it was to be known it was gone, its absence would send an invisible tremor through the corridors of every hidden village.

Amaisa stared into the void where the object had once rested, her thoughts racing. Who could have known about this? The sandstorm outside mirrored her inner turmoil. She clenched her fists, eyes narrowing. This was not just an act of theft—it was a challenge, and Amaisa could feel the unspoken tension stretching thin across the desert, like a taut wire ready to snap. Only the Kage, the five most powerful figures in the world, knew what had been taken. The artifact, hidden away in Sunagakure’s vaults, held more than just material worth. It was a relic of history itself, a piece of the past capable of unravelling the future. Each Kage had agreed long ago to keep its existence a secret from even their most trusted subordinates.

She makes her way out towards her entourage, the air around her telling them how dire a situation this was. They remained silent, waiting to hear her next command and, perhaps an explanation of what was going on, and where this place was or rather, what it was meant to be.

Rather giving those with her any information Amaisa instead, reached into her pouch and pulled out a small metallic handheld device used for secure communication between the Kage. Her delicate fingers hesitated for only a moment. The other Kage must know. If one of them truly was involved, them knowing may very well help to reveal who among them was the perpetrator. She keyed the device, her voice as steady as the shifting sands around her.

“Kazekage Amaisa speaking,” she announced, the urgency in her words underlined by the formality of her title. “An incident has occurred in the Land of Wind. I request an emergency council meeting—now. This is a matter of grave importance. It’s GONE.”

Her message was brief, but the weight of it lingered.

As she waited for the council’s reply,

???: “Whaddaya MEAN…?!” When the first Kage’s response crackled through the device, she felt the weight of the moment press down upon her. The peace they all maintained with such difficulty now hung on the edge of a blade sharper than they had ever imagined. The theft of this relic threatened to plunge them back into chaos, but more terrifying was the fact that no one knew who their enemy truly was—or why they had come for this.

Amaisa turned to finally truly face the waiting shinobi behind her, shinobi who guarded and acted as guides all their lives yet hadn't the faintest of clues about this place. “Prepare yourselves,” she said calmly, though her heart beat fast beneath her composed exterior. “A foul wind has blown through here, and I fear it threatens to sweep through other lands as well.” The desert wind howled in answer, but it carried only the promise of the storm to come.
-A-
-New-
-Horizon-

 

[Erebus]

"Hang in there! I'll have you out of here in no time!"

A young voice calls out, the desert winds howling as if to drown him out. It was as if the very desert was seeking to make the owner of this voice a liar, seeking to give despair where the young voice strove to give hope. Who however was the owner of this voice? A young boy, that much was certain. Through the whirling sands, three feint silhouettes could be seen, struggling to breach the sandy veil.

"The desert is merciless today. We should hurry to the village...something feels...wrong."

This voice was older, deeper, rougher. There was worry in his voice, along with a tone of familiarity towards the owner of the younger voice. They double their efforts, warring against the very sandstorm they find themselves in. A battle against nature, the elements was normally a foolish one, especially in such an environment. Many lives have been claimed by the desert, bodies buried beneath scorching sands, yet for these travelers, the cards seemed stacked in their favor.

No longer mere silhouettes, two of the party of three wore unique looking visors over their eyes, undoubtedly this was their protection from the sand constantly kicked and whirled about by the wind, ensuring it didn't get in their eyes, blinding them even if only temporarily. This was also the tell feature of members of Sunagakure's Hokushin Clan. The large man was Mikaboshi, one of the clan's strongest Wayfinders. He's braved many a terrain, protected and safely guided many a lost soul within the Land of Wind's vast deserts. Although physically imposing and intimidating, those who knew the man, knew him to be a gentle giant. While he has fought, he has never relished battle, a fact few would believe when laying eyes upon him for the first time.

"Don't worry dad. It won't be too much longer. When we get there, maybe Granny Ryō will know what's up."

In his company was his only son, Maboshi, a young genin of the Hidden Sand. Maboshi was supporting the body of a young man, one who had been fading in and out of consciousness. They had been traveling for hours on end since coming across the poor soul. He was severely dehydrated, and hadn't the strength to even walk on his own. Needless to say, the man had seen better days. While they were ignorant of who this man was, where he came from or what he was even doing in the desert to begin with, it was not in the nature of their clan to leave such a person alone. They couldn't abandon him, regardless who he might be.

Mikaboshi glanced down at his son, much of his expression hidden behind his visor and stylized rebreather making it impossible to tell exactly what the bear of a man might be thinking or feeling in this moment. Almost simultaneously, a feint blue glow came from behind the visors of the father-son duo, both turning their head towards the same direction.

"See dad! What'd I tell you!"

Curious what the two of them was seeing, as there remained nothing but sand as far as the eye could see. They continued in the direction they had turned to. Every now and then Mikaboshi would glance down at the man in his son's care. It was feint, but he was still breathing, how much longer that would remain true was anyone's guess. Their footprints in the sand disappearing almost as quickly as they were made it seemed they were walking aimlessly towards empty desert...that is, until structures began rising from the distant horizon. It was the village of the Hidden Sand.

They doubled their efforts, the water within the waterskins that hung at their side sloshing about, the containers of water lightly vibrating. 'Could they be reacting to something?' Mikaboshi thought to himself, his attention briefly brought to his own waterskin marked with the Zō (象) Kanji. Driven by that unsettling feeling, the large man reached over, grabbing his son by his cloak, effortlessly hoisting both him and their wayward traveler up off the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust and sand as he hurried them towards the village.

"Wha-! DAD! STOP THIS IS M-"

Unaware of his father's concerns, Maboshi could only try to protest, having wanted to complete this journey on his own...mostly on his own. Little could either one of them have imagined the new horizon that awaited them all.

 

[ZimTheInvader]

Within the confines of a small caldera off to the side of the village—hidden within the great sandstone walls that act as a natural defense—stood a figure obscured by the shimmering veil of a faint sandstorm, his silhouette flickering like a mirage as sand danced around his form. The figure could occasionally be seen through the storm, his body moving silently with swift, violent precision as he executed a string of deadly strikes against the solid sandstone wall of the caldera. Each strike left a divot in the hardened rock, and with every subsequent blow, cracks began to spiderweb across the surface—until, with one final, resounding strike, the section of wall before him shattered and crumbled into the sand at his feet.

"This is great my strikes as getting stronger and more precise. At this rate I'll have the Seven Heavens Breathing Method down pat in no time."

In the aftermath of the crumbling sandstone wall, the swirling sand had begun to fade, and the figure became clear for all to see—it was none other than the young taijutsu specialist Seijūrō Ushijima. Sweat dripping from his brow, he would take a moment to admire his handiwork as the thought of what he should do next ran through his head. The normal course of action was to train more, as he held his clan's beliefs that the only thing one can rely on is their own body, and the only way to build a body that will never fail you is to train harder and longer than anyone else.

With his mind made up, he would glance to the small, singular dead tree within the caldera where his white changshan jacket hung, making sure it was still there before approaching a nearby rock whose surface was unnaturally flat and appeared to be a perfect rectangular slab. It seemed as though someone had flattened it out by hand to form the perfect stable, solid platform for exercise. As Seijūrō approached the stone slab, he would take a long, deep breath before exhaling as he settled himself before making his way up. With his feet planted firmly upon the surface of the slab, he was ready—and in one fluid, controlled motion, he would lean forward onto his hands, kicking his feet up into the air.

Seijūrō now stood strong, unmoving in a perfectly controlled handstand as he removed his left hand from the stone and positioned it behind his back. One would probably expect the boy's form to waver, but no—he instead held strong and began to act, executing a string of perfect one-handed push-ups. His muscles rippled as sweat began to cascade down his face before evaporating upon contact with the surface of the slab.

 

[Erebus]

Once crossing past the threshold into the village Mikaboshi dropped his son and their still unidentified guest. Maboshi landed on his feet, though scrambled to ensure he didn't drop the man he had been striving to protect. He breathed a sigh of relief as he managed to uphold him.

"Hey! That wa-" "Take him to the Jumyōboshi. I will be going to where the matriarch is."

Maboshi stared at his father. From his tone it seemed something serious was going on, and from his words he could tell it also meant that Granny Ryō wouldn't be at the clan compound. The young genin sighed, nodding in silent understanding, watching as his father trudged off into the distance. The direction he was traveling was also the same direction to the Kage building. While curious as to what was going on and also wanting to try and be of some help, he knew asking right now would be pointless. Besides, he had current responsibilities to uphold.

Venturing further into the city of Sunagakure Maboshi eventually and inevitably comes upon a massive wall. He stands before the wall for mere moments, undoubtedly feeling like much longer for the young man before the massive gates open allowing him passage. He ventures inside and passes many humble looking buildings before finally entering a single one. Inside are several individuals, and like him they too are tan of skin, with dirty blonde hair. They all wear similar visors over their eyes and turn to the young genin, looking from him to the person he carried.

"We-I mean I, found him in the desert. He needs help, I was uh- hoping Granny Ryō could help him but, dad said she was busy."

He quickly corrected himself in his explanation, not wanting it to seem as if he couldn't handle things on his own. While others might look suspiciously at the male brought in, his kinsmen instead moved to grab the man from the boy, placing him atop a table as they began looking him over.

"Well done Little Star. We will take care of him from here."

Beaming brightly, he nodded his head, running off to leave them to their work and venture out of the compound back into the village. Everything seemed noisier and busier than usual. He found himself bumped here and there as he walked, his curiosity only growing stronger the more murmurings he heard. 'Alright Suija, lets see what's going on yea?' He thought to himself while affectionately patting the waterskin at his side.

 

[Eren]

The day was no different than usual—a monotonous rhythm that danced with the endless breeze, gusts that carried the golden veil of sand across the land like nature’s own brushstroke. The air shimmered with heat, and the horizon quivered under the weight of the sun—with lizards seen on the horizon. Almost as if it was a foreboding appearance of a particular lizard. Though the environment of their native country was known for its sharp, intense heat to outsiders, to the natives? It was simply a part of their lifestyle—embracing the heat and the intense sunlight caressing their skin. Anyone from outside the country would find themselves sweating, and then there was them... The folks who would be so undaunted by the scorching desert heat. It was almost cinematic. A quiet, surreal scene. A child appeared, whistling—a simple melody that rode on the wind. His arms swung wildly, freely, as though orchestrating the desert's rhythm. His small frame moved without care, unbothered by the blistering air that shimmered like a mirage around him.

A whistle could be heard from the stranger.

Decorated with Kabuki markings—resembling circus clowns—his appearance became more striking as words were no longer needed. His message was conveyed through body language, mannerisms, and posture. It was clear he was simply enjoying the view, completely unaware of what had happened truly.
​

“.......”​

The mute examined his surroundings, his gaze scanning the landscape with quiet intent. His eyes, sharp and curious, eventually landed on a figure in the distance—a child. Someone who, by appearance alone, seemed to be around his own age. There was no spoken exchange. No words needed. Just a subtle shift in attention, a stillness, as if the air itself paused in anticipation. Almost immediately, a flicker of amusement passed through him. The boy—Hokushin, as the name might be known—moved with animated gestures, full of personality and rhythm. It was enough to spark something in the mute. With a silent grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, he began to mimic the child’s movements, not mockingly, but with a strange, playful sincerity. Like a reflection in a warped mirror. As Hokushin affectionately patted his waterskin—perhaps a gesture born from habit or comfort—the mute responded in kind. His hands moved to the space at his side, patting the air where no container existed. An “imaginary” waterskin. It was precise. Intentional. His body mirrored the exact cadence of Hokushin’s movement, like a shadow with a sense of humor.
​

".......!!!"

He had no voice, but in that moment, his silence spoke volumes. Through mimicry, he was reaching out—not to mock, but to connect. As if to say: I see you. The child responded with an idiotic grin, smiling ear to ear as if the sun itself lit up behind his teeth. His hands flailed in an explosive display of joy, and with a sudden leap, he jumped into the air—dancing, almost, in a wild and carefree rhythm.

Was he just saying hello in the only way he knew how? Maybe so—reaching out the only way he could.

And so, the Legendary Tsuno made his arrival!

 

[ZimTheInvader]

Upon the carved stone slab that lay in the centre of the small caldera—its surface worn smooth by years of silent discipline—Seijūrō Ushijima balanced upside-down on one hand. Muscles rippling and veins bulging, his body rose and fell with each push-up, the motion precise and unwavering.

"97, 98, 99, 100!"

As he pushed himself further, he would inch ever closer to his one hundredth consecutive one-handed handstand push-up, and upon reaching this number, he would finally relent, and with one last push, he would swiftly and gracefully propel himself back up and onto his feet. His body ached with pain, having pushed his body to the limit and then beyond with this extra set. This would seem to others as a waste—for one to focus so hard upon strengthening his body like this, going as far as leaving his muscles aching—but to him, the pain and ache of his muscles was a sign of progress and effort. It was a sign that the boy's hard work was paying off.

"Man, my body is so sore. Maybe I did go a little too far this time," the boy would say as he had negative thoughts seeming to creep into his mind, only to quickly be silenced. "Nah, I have to push even harder to achieve greatness. Might Guy would never let sore muscles hold him back."

For Seijūrō, he lived for his goals and ideals. These two things were the main driving force behind his effort, and those were rising to the pinnacle of taijutsu and standing beside legends such as the "Leaf's Noble Green Beast," who was recognized by some of history's greatest shinobi. Might Guy was a man who, with taijutsu alone, battled some of history's greatest shinobi and won—being recognized by Madara Uchiha himself as the strongest shinobi he had ever faced—and his main rival was the First Hokage. Those were the shoes that Seijūrō had to fill to achieve his goals, but for now, that was merely a dream, and what awaited him now was reality—and that reality was that he was still an inexperienced genin who had a lot to learn.

With his mind made up and his exercise concluded for the day, Seijūrō would reach for his changshan jacket and drape it across his broad shoulders before making his way towards the small path that was merely big enough for a single person to pass through comfortably. The path was the only way to reach the caldera without needing to go over the great sandstone walls. As the sun beat down upon him, Seijūrō couldn't help but feel happy, as he loved the sun and the heat that his homeland was known for, his hands resting comfortably in the deep pockets of his black pants as he headed into the village.

Seijūrō, as if still training, would effortlessly weave through the crowds, doing everything in his power to avoid those heading towards him. The boy had a knack for finding a way to train in even the most mundane task of his daily life. Weaving through the crowd was easy for the boy, but as he made his way through, his steady focus and concentration would be shattered when the sight of what appeared to be a red-haired boy adorned in clown make-up was dancing around and flailing his arms before a blonde boy with tanned skin. To Seijūrō, the scene was rather strange, but at the same time, he couldn't take his eyes off it. The two boys had drawn the fighter's attention, and his curiosity had gotten the best of him as he approached the two.

 

[Erebus]

Having calmed and steeled himself he was ready to set out and figure out what the adults, specifically his dad, were trying to keep from him. However the young boy was taken aback by a kid near him, having truly only noticed him when he began to jump and flail around. With eyes covered by his visor and mouth covered by the scarf, it was always hard to get a read on Maboshi who only stared awkwardly before tilting his head.

"Uh..um...ah, hello...?"

He greeted, uncertain what the kid wanted. He folded his arms as he continued to stare at the painted boy, it was uncertain as to what he was thinking. Was he trying to get a read on the kid, was he trying to figure out what he wanted, why he had approached him? Perhaps why, despite being so close and behaving so oddly, the child hadn't spoken a word, not even in greeting.

"Ah! Have you noticed it too?! You think its weird too right?"

With all his thinking, Maboshi had concluded that maybe the kid also sensed how weird everything was and how the adults were acting. That had to be it! He also wanted to get to the bottom of it, that had to be it. Nodding proudly to himself for having figured it out finally he concluded that two heads were better than one.

"Do you have a parent that's also trying to keep you in the dark? Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this!"

With a firm nod he reached his hand out waiting for the painted one to grab it. A regular gesture especially amongst young boys, the handshake to affirm their alliance! "I'm Maboshi by the way, lets-uh..is he also with you?"

His introduction cut short, pointing to the side at the approach of another boy. Right now, he could only assume the guy was a friend of the weirdly painted kid, after all he knew that he didn't know him. It only made sense he'd come over if he saw a friend nearby...right? Again, Maboshi comes to a conclusion all his own, making the pieces fit in his head regardless of how true or not they were.

"Pssst, heeey! Hurry up!" The young wayfinder lowered is voice, waving him over to hurry and join them. Despite what he thought, his actions and behavior were anything but inconspicuous. Still, with how everything was in the village at the moment, the children's' behavior hardly went noticed. He led them behind a building, peeking around the corner to ensure they weren't noticed and followed, last thing they needed were the adults trying to stop them. With three of them now, the plan needed to be tweaked a bit.

"Time to discuss operation starfinder!"

 

[Eren]

"Uh..um...ah, hello...?"
A series of misunderstandings and confusions unfolded, all stemming from a lack of words — especially on Tsuno’s part, whose true intention had simply been to introduce himself to the Hokushin. But as it became clear that the one with the glasses had completely misread the situation, Tsuno slumped into a fit of frustration. Dropping to one knee, his hand met the ground, his posture heavy with the weight of disappointment and sorrow. The confusion had left him disheartened.​

"Do you have a parent that's also trying to keep you in the dark? Don't worry, we'll get to the bottom of this!"

The boy’s expression stood in stark contrast to the situation. Unlike the Hokushin’s parents, his own had given him a joyful upbringing — one filled with warmth and acceptance. His muteness was never treated as a burden but embraced wholly by those closest to him. That kind of unconditional support was something Tsuno had rarely — if ever — experienced beyond the safety of his home. And in moments like this, surrounded by strangers and misunderstandings, the difference was all too clear. His eyes squinted in confusion, trying to make sense of the misinterpretation. Then they opened wide, as if to reject the notion entirely — to deny that. And yet, his thoughts drifted to the last words his mother had spoken to him. They echoed faintly, grounding him amidst the growing noise of doubt.​

A flash of a distant memory

to a forest where he and his parents had once taken a trip. They had gone there together to cut down wood from one of the many sturdy trees, the kind strong enough to be carved into something meaningful. It hadn’t been just a chore — it was a gift. A celebration. His parents had planned to use that wood to craft several puppets for him, a gesture of pride and love for his enrollment in the Ninja Academy. It was a moment etched into him — the scent of fresh bark, the warmth of their smiles, the feeling of being seen without the need for words.​

“Tsuno.”
A gentle, feminine voice called out from afar.

The child turned his head toward the sound. Standing just a short distance away was a woman whose features bore a striking resemblance to his own. She wore the traditional garb of a puppeteer — layered fabrics with subtle patterns woven into the seams — but what stood out most was her long, flowing red hair that caught the sunlight like flame. She was beautiful in a way that was quiet yet commanding, her presence as comforting as it was graceful.​

She knelt beside him, eyes soft, voice steady.

“When you go to the Academy,” she began, “you’ll face difficulties. Communicating with your classmates... your teachers... it won’t always be easy.” Her hand gently came to rest against his cheek, the warmth of her palm grounding him in that quiet moment. With playful tenderness, she began to pinch and tug at his face — light, affectionate motions that only a mother could deliver with such care. Tsuno reacted with a soft flinch, his eyes narrowing slightly, not in protest, but in quiet surrender to the affection. His shoulders eased, and a faint giggle trembled in his chest, silent but present. here was no need for words. That simple, teasing gesture said everything — I see you. I love you. You are enough.
“There will always be people who refuse to understand you — just as there will always be people who do. And some, well... some may struggle at first. But if you put in the effort — if you find your own way to express what’s inside — you will be understood.” She glanced at the small puppet cradled in his arms.

“Your puppets tell me everything I need to know,” she said, smiling. “You want to connect with others. And that desire... that’s powerful. Don’t let the silence fool you — your voice is always there. You just have to choose how to let it speak.”​

The child smiled, a soft and genuine curve of his lips that exposed the small gap between his front teeth — a simple, endearing detail that spoke volumes.​

The memory ends​

Meanwhile, the boy continued his introduction, calling himself Maboshi. Tsuno, in turn, slowly extended his index finger and began to trace characters into the dirt—his tongue stick out. With quiet precision, he wrote his name: Tsuno — each kanji etched with calm determination. It was his own way of introducing himself, shaped by silence but filled with intent. His expression still held a trace of the earlier frustration, but as his mind echoed with his mother’s advice, the weight seemed to soften. He let it go. "There will always be people who don’t understand you... and those who do."

“Let’s-uh... is he also with you?” the Hokushin asked hesitantly. Tsuno’s ears perked up at the question. He gave a quick shake of his head — a clear no — yet the subtle lift of his shoulders, a slight shrug, hinted at more. He wasn’t with them, not yet. But the truth was, he didn’t mind the idea. Misunderstandings or not, he was always open to new connections. In his own quiet way, Tsuno was willing — maybe even hopeful — to make a friend.

Almost like a loyal hound chasing after his best friend, Tsuno followed close behind the others — assuming they all chose to move together. His tongue peeked out slightly in focus, and his hands hovered in the air with exaggerated caution, mimicking the cartoonish posture of someone sneaking around undetected. Each step he took was light, playful, his body language more expressive than words could ever be. It wasn’t mockery — it was Tsuno’s way of joining in, of blending his quiet world with theirs. Through movement and presence, he was saying: I’m here. I’m with you.

"Time to discuss operation starfinder!"
The boy tilted his head curiously toward Maboshi, his expression filled with quiet intrigue. There was a subtle glint in his eyes — not of suspicion, but of interest — as if silently asking a question he couldn’t voice: What is Operation Starfinder?

He didn’t need words. The tilt of his head, the slight furrow of his brows, and the way he leaned just a bit closer toward Maboshi all conveyed the same message — a desire to understand, to be included, to know more about whatever this mysterious "operation" might be. Whether it was a mission, a game, or some grand plan of Maboshi’s, Tsuno was listening — and more importantly, he was ready.​

​

 

[ZimTheInvader]

Swiftly and in a calm manner, Seijūrō reached the two individuals who seemed to be in conversation. Upon his approach, he had overheard some of what the two had been speaking about, and like the silent boy, they too seemed to not know what the kid had been talking about, as his parents were too busy with their training and missions.

"Yo, the name's Seijūrō, nice to meet ya. Also, I don't know this guy, but you seemed interesting, so I came over."

Seijūrō spoke, his eyes glancing down at the floor where the silent boy had seemingly drawn kanji that spelled out Tsuno, which the taller boy could only conclude was his name. He had luckily overheard the other say his own name earlier, and before he could even continue introducing himself and get to know these fellow genin, he found their group already moving out—as he had unintentionally been recruited to join the group of the goggle-wearing boy, Maboshi, who called for Seijūrō and Tsuno to follow him.

"Well, I have nothing better to do today, so why not."

Seijūrō shrugged his shoulders and turned on his heels to follow Maboshi. This group of three created a strange picture for anyone looking upon them, due to the unique variety of their appearances. The boys would stand out like a sore thumb.