Land of Wind

[Eros]

The Hidden Sand Village had always been a melting pot of clans, traditions, and personalities. A place where the scorching sun beat down on stone streets and life moved with a rhythm shaped by wind and grit. But even among the countless individuals who called this harsh land home, none were quite like the boy currently sprawled out across the roof of the Kazekage’s building.

He laid there without a care in the world, completely at ease despite being atop one of the most important buildings in the village. His limbs were flung about with zero restraint—one arm hanging lazily off the edge, legs splayed in opposite directions as if gravity itself had given up on arranging him. Each deep, unbothered snore that escaped his mouth was a quiet declaration of just how exhausted he was or maybe just how little bothered he was about everything especially with the affairs of the village.

Without warning, a shadow swooped down from the sky—silent and swift. A winged creature glided effortlessly through the hot desert air before coming to a gentle stop just above the boy’s head. With practiced precision, it delivered a firm peck to his forehead.

Thwack.

“OW—!”

A sharp yell rang out across the rooftop as the boy shot upright, startled and annoyed. His jet black hair was tousled, and his eyes still half-lidded with sleep as he clutched the bird’s beak in frustration.

“You again? Of course it’s you, Fukuro! You stupid bird!” he snapped, clearly not a morning person.

Fukuro blinked, unfazed. The owl’s piercing amber eyes met the boy’s with an unbothered calm, almost as if it took quiet pride in its daily role as the boy’s uninvited alarm clock.

But Fukuro wasn’t just any bird. He was a Desert Owl—an elusive species rarely seen outside the borders of the Land of Wind, and even rarer as companions. These owls were deeply tied to the mysterious Maen Clan, a group whispered about within the village, but not often understood. Most villagers knew little of the clan’s origins, and even less of their customs. They were quiet, unassuming people, not prone to flashy clothes or drawing attention especially as they were assassins for hire. But the boy—well, he was something else entirely. He was draped in white and gold outlined kimono with golden plated rings around his wrist and his right ankle.


The youth was called Yuta, merely a young adolescent who just thought about lounging around within the confines of his own space especially when taking a nap. His companion cared little for that, especially because it was on the Kazekage’s building. Reprimanding him was Fukuro’s biggest entertainment especially when it was to be a pain towards Yuta. Though, Yuta found this as annoyance but stood his upper body up as he glanced down from the building looking at the Sand of time, moving along with wind which blew gently across his face, his face scrunched up. A member of the Maen Clan was now a part of the Shinobi system and ready to leave his mark as Genin.

 

[Erebus]

Desert travel was a horror for those not accustomed to it. From the scorching sun bearing down without rest, to the lack of any changing scenery that was not only mind numbing but made it difficult, near impossible to navigate through. Yet for Mikaboshi, it was like traveling through a familiar neighborhood. His every step went unhindered despite the howling and roaring of the winds, the sand being thrown about, cutting any other normal person like tiny blades. Like this storm, his thoughts were whirling about, raging. With the way his prints in the sand were being swallowed up it was as if the desert was attempting to erase any evidence of his passage through it. As he trekked the desert, as his thoughts swirled images broke through, those of his son, his wife, and the matriarch. His eyes glowed brightly from behind the visor, like lanterns within the storm.

Every so often his course shifted ever so slightly, his stride remaining constant. This wasn't a man who seemed to be wandering aimlessly, lost in the vast desert. No, there was confidence in his every step, certainty in the path he followed unfailingly. As if to reward the efforts of his travels the sandstorm eventually subsided, giving way to a different scenery, a location hidden within the vastness of the Dry Sea and one that should be guarded, yet right now it seemed...chaotic, teeming with Shinobi of the hidden sand. The glow behind his visors dimmed as he approached the shinobi on watch.

"Lady Kazekage requested our Matriarch, I'm here on her behalf."

While the Kazekage had been guided by members of his clan, he can only imagine that she needed someone more skilled, seasoned in the role of a Wayfinder. There was none greater than the clan head, yet despite this Granny Ryō strongly encouraged him to go in her stead, assuring it was the right choice. Mikaboshi didn't understand, but the matriarch was almost never wrong. He couldn't see as far or as deep as she could, couldn't see what she saw....but she certainly saw something. That would suffice for him, and it would have to suffice for the Kazekage as well it seemed.

 

[ZimTheInvader]

Seijūrō hopped from roof to roof, his steps silent and swift, each landing as light as a falling leaf, yet sharp as a blade in the dark. They made their way toward the destination their wayfinder was leading them to, before coming to a stop—leaping from the rooftop to the street below, landing with an eerie and unnatural silence. Anyone paying close enough attention would notice that no physical movement he had made since joining them had produced a sound.

As the orange-haired boy stood behind his new friend, he had gone to speak up—only to hear a mysterious voice chime in. The voice, while not frightening or intimidating, did catch him off guard slightly, causing a small jolt of worry. In the end, though, it wasn't anything the boys truly needed to worry about, as it was not someone they should fear—at least not right now. The voice came from a woman who bore a striking resemblance to Maboshi. It turned out to be none other than the boy’s grandmother.

The older woman spoke, and Seijūrō listened carefully, hoping they hadn’t been caught red-handed. But it turned out she was more interested in meeting her grandson’s friends. With a polite bow, Seijūrō followed Maboshi inside to meet the boy’s grandmother. Once inside the hut, Seijūrō stayed quiet, minding his own business—simply listening as the two spoke, waiting until he was asked to speak, as it was the respectful thing to do.

It wasn’t until he heard the offer of Star Cookies and Dune Cakes that he reacted. Seijūrō had never heard of these treats, but like any kid, he was definitely interested in trying them.

“Thank you for the offer, ma’am. I would love to try some.”

Seijūrō calmly said, following up his friend’s rather excited exclamation about Dune Cakes, then followed the now-excited Maboshi to the table to enjoy the nice snacks that Maboshi’s Granny Ryo had prepared.

 

[Erebus]

Granny Ryō let out a light chuckle, before using the table to brace herself as she rose up. The elderly woman worked her way over into what could only be the kitchen area retrieving a series of ingredients, a smile permanently etched on her aged face. "You have a strong body young man. Don't be impatient, a strong mind will naturally lead you to a stronger body." She spoke as she gathered the ingredients, and began collecting them together before she began to stir. Her words, rather it was clear or not were directed towards the boy the group knew as Seijūrō; the one who was physically the strongest amongst their number. The wooden spoon in her hand clacked against the bowl as she turned up the mixture, slowly at first but gradually growing faster as the contents became smoother.

"Also, there are some things you will never be able to learn or experience by simply watching. Never be afraid to truly take a chance. Every good show must be able to improvise here and there." Words that one might assume were still for young Seijūrō were instead, meant for Tsuno this time. Never stopping to properly address any one person, or let it be known whom she was speaking to, her words came off as random, the mad ramblings of an old lady. The Hokushin, Kazekage and council of elders knew better however. The matriarch of her clan, and the oldest, what she could perceive was far more than any other Wayfinder. Her words were always meant to guide a person onto their path one way or another, even if it was unclear exactly how at times.

She hummed a little tune, forming little mounds of dune shaped batter onto a tray before sliding it into the oven. She clapped her hands together, nodding her head in silent approval. She walked back over to the table, smiling at the group. "Now, tell me. What exactly did you children plan on doing once you caught up with Mikaboshi hmm? What mischief has our little star caught you all in?"

Maboshi pulled his scarf up some more, adjusting it as he slid down in his seat, folding his arms and turning his head away from the Matriarch. It would take some time for the cakes to finish baking, the smell of cinnamon, feint at first slowly rising. The elder's words were less accusatory, rather she seemed like a grandma seeking to listen to the tales of the children, of their adventures. Always valuing youth, she took her time to hear them out, though she had somewhat of an idea...even if they themselves weren't fully aware.

 

[Eren]

The whimsical child listened intently to the symphony of sounds both inside and outside the house—his ears perked, eyes roaming with curious wonder as if trying to take in every detail of his surroundings. Photos, furniture, the kitchen—all within his gaze, weaving together a world of discovery. It felt like he had slipped into his own little universe, until Granny Ryo’s voice floated to him, snapping him back. His carefree expression shifted, replaced by one of keen curiosity as he caught her words about having to improvise here and there to craft the greatest show. Was she speaking about him?

".....!" The child thought.


As the moment settled, the boys were asked what exactly they planned to do once they caught up with Mikaboshi. Tsuno's expression melted from thoughtful curiosity into fierce, determined resolve.

Tsuno pushed back from the table and deliberately stepped to the center of the room. He drew a deep breath to steady himself, then began the story. His hands and body moved with lively energy, painting vivid portraits of each boy’s mannerisms and personality, breathing life into them through his own performance. He recounted how they had ended up here, reenacting moments with passionate flair, weaving the tale like a silent actor whose every gesture spoke volumes. Though some of the acts might have slipped past the untrained eyes...

Only for the child to lift his shoulders in a loose shrug, palms open as if to say he had no idea what the plan was once they actually came face-to-face with Mikaboshi. Whatever answer he might’ve given drifted away the moment the scent of cakes wafted through the air, drawing his attention like a spell. Just like that, his interest in retelling the story slipped from his grasp, leaving the rest to the boys. He pressed himself against the transparent oven door, nose and lips smushed against the heated glass, completely mesmerized by what was baking inside. He drifted back into his own little world, completely absorbed by it—more focused on that than anything else around him.

 

[STORY]

Amaisa remained where ruin whispered louder than any alarm, the vault behind her yawning like a wound carved into the bones of the desert itself. The air carried a heatless sting, not from the sun but from the bitter aftertaste of something sacred being unmade. Sand scuffed softly against her heels as the storm quieted around them, as if the land itself was in mourning. She did not look up when she sensed the arrival behind her—she didn’t need to. The desert shifted differently around those who belonged to it, and Mikaboshi was no stranger to its rhythms. His presence was quiet, but it did not have to announce itself. It was felt.

“You came in her stead.” Her voice, wrapped in silken calm, lacked surprise, only purpose. “Then you understand what sort of silence you’re stepping into.”

She turned slowly, the veil across her face shifting with the wind like the breath of a statue stirred to life. Eyes the color of burnt gold caught him in their gaze, unreadable but unrelenting. Her hand lifted faintly, gesturing behind her without looking—toward the hollow indentation left in the wall of the vault, where once something ancient and sealed had rested for centuries beneath layers of sandstone and time. The seal was torn, the steel twisted open like petals forced to bloom by fire. “It was never meant to be touched,” she said softly. “Let alone taken.” Her gaze flicked downward, then returned to him. “Arikui fell defending it. He and those stationed here didn’t die in some careless scuffle. They were outmaneuvered. Their formations were picked apart. This wasn’t a battlefield—it was a message.” Her voice remained steady, yet the edges of it curled like paper near flame. “Whoever did this knew where to strike, how to move undetected, and what they were looking for. That’s not coincidence. That’s betrayal.”

The space between them collapsed in a breath, and though her lips were concealed by the veil, he would feel the words brush the air between them. Her mask shifted as if she spoke aloud, yet no sound escaped. Somehow, the desert itself conspired to muffle it, to keep the secret buried even in the wind. Only Mikaboshi would hear the name of what had been taken. And only he would understand the depth of its theft. “You’re the one to see this through. I need you to trace whatever remains. The faintest clue, the most meager imprint, anything that leads us to whoever dared to breach this place.” Her hand dropped, fingers curling back into her sleeve. “If it is one of the Coalition... or worse, one of us… I need to know before anyone else does.” She turned away then, stepping back into the vessel’s shadow, but her words did not lose clarity. “Report only to me. Speak to no one else of what you see. Not until I say so. If you find them—do not engage. Not until I’ve spoken with the others.” There was a pause, and in it the desert sighed. “The council must be called. The illusion of peace we’ve so delicately crafted now wears a fracture across its surface...”

At the edge of the rise, where the wind clawed at her silks and the sun cast her shadow long across the dunes, Amaisa paused once more, turning her head slightly so her voice would carry just enough. “If this relic is misused… the world will not be afforded the luxury of dreaming again.”

With that, the Kazekage stepped aboard her vessel and was gone, the sands swallowing her path as though to conceal it.

​

 

[ZimTheInvader]

Seijūrō, who had been sitting there, his usual patient and quiet manner on display, found his quiet broken when he heard the voice of Granny Ryo, who spoke up, giving some advice that, to the boy, clearly was aimed at each of the boys standing there. The words were precise and targeted, and it would not be hard for each to notice which was aimed at them. Well, that was obvious for Seijūrō, though the boy wasn't sure about the others. While they had been travelling together recently, they still knew very little about each other.

"Thank you for your guidance, ma'am. I will take it to heart."

Seijūrō spoke up in reply to her remark, his voice calm and focused. Her words resonated with him, especially when they were compared to his clan's beliefs and ideals on strength. He knew that while he was training his body, he had unintentionally been neglecting his mind. His parents had told him years ago that to be strong in mind is just as important as being strong in body.

"If your body is a blade, then your mind is the hand that wields it."

The words were muttered just quiet enough that only those with the most perceptive hearing could notice. It was a mantra that the Ushijima Clan passed down through the generations, but one that Seijūrō had begun to forget before being reminded by the kind words of the wise Granny Ryo. With his mind more at ease, and a new focus and determination in his mind, he relaxed as he took in the aroma of the sweets, as he wondered alongside the others what they were actually going to do when they found Maboshi's father.​

 

[Erebus]

The aged woman merely smiled at the young children, nodding her head towards the orange headed boy as he gave his thanks, her focus along with Maboshi's turning towards the quiet read head as he began his performance, regaling her with the tale of how they met and what they had done up until meeting her. To those unaccustomed with the boy's means of communication, it wouldn't be a surprise for them to be confused and uncertain as to what exactly he was trying to say or convey.

"Ahh is that so? How intriguing, quite a first meeting indeed."

Granny Ryō spoke as if she had understood his every unspoken word. Her smile and tone all genuine. It was clear to her that they were all unaware as to what exactly they were doing, what the goal in this was, all of them except Maboshi that is. She turns her head towards the young star, patting his head gently before ruffling his hair. He was the little ring leader of this little group, they had met by chance but were being led by him. Helping him with his goals, his plans.

"Well Little Star? What was the goal hmm?"

Maboshi sat there, face partially covered by his scarf as his head continued to be rubbed and patted affectionately by the clan's Matriarch. Between both scarf and visors, what the boy was thinking, how he was feeling in this moment was impossible to tell, impossible for everyone with the exception of Granny Ryō that is. She said nothing further outside the question, did not press the matter or push him to speak. She simply waited, rubbing and patting his head.

"I just..."

He finally breaks the silence, his voice low, quiet and hesitant. He shifted slightly in his seat, fingers gripping the end of his cloak, squeezing and tugging on it lightly. He takes a breath, and silence once more befalls the hut, lingering there for seconds that lasted like minutes.

"I just wanted to find out what was going on so I could help Dad. He always helps me but never lets me help him...not really. I know it might be dangerous but...maybe if I helped...it'll be a little less dangerous? I dunno..."

Unable to maintain the wall he relents to the gentleness of Granny Ryō. He reveals that, he was just a boy who loved his father, and wanted to help him. He knew his dad only ever kept him from helping on things he felt were too dangerous for him, but that worried him. If it was too dangerous to him, then it was dangerous for his dad too! He sits there, emotions laid bare, revealed that throughout the noise, the bluster, the thrill and promise of adventure, he was just a boy wanting to be with his father.​

---

Elsewhere...

Standing behind the Kazekage Mikaboshi remains silent as she speaks, revealing that it was not him she expected to be standing there. He figured as much, yet he'd fulfill his duty all the same. As the Kage speaks Mikaboshi maintains his silence, glancing behind her when she motions to the jagged opening. Her words were cryptid, he was aware that this place seemed important but he didn't know why it was so important, what it held and just what she was trying to say was taken.

He had many questions, but now wasn't the time to ask. As if aware of his confusion and curiosity the distance between them is closed in an instance. The Kage was a beautiful woman, known to stir the hearts of nearly any man who gazed upon her or were ever fortunate enough to find themselves in the same space as her. Even Mikaboshi couldn't deny his heart thumped a beat faster with her being so close. Thankfully his visor and rebreather aided him in hiding it, then there was the image of his wife that gave his heart pause. If that wasn't enough, what the Kazekage whispered in his ear caused him to take a step back in surprise.
​

“You’re the one to see this through. I need you to trace whatever remains. The faintest clue, the most meager imprint, anything that leads us to whoever dared to breach this place.”​

He understood such a mission would have him gone for quite some time. The faces of his wife and son surfaced in his mind. It pained him to leave them, and he knew Maboshi wouldn't take this news well. Still, the Kage, the village needed his help. This was his duty, the duty of a shinobi. He received her orders to report only to her, to move in silence, to track and observe but not to engage. He unconsciously breathed a sigh of relief. He preferred avoiding conflict, his hands didn't need any more blood on them. She reminds him of the gravity of the matter before she departs in her vessel, returning to the village undoubtedly. He stands there in silence for several minutes after she had left, and then there is a glow from behind his visors where his eyes would be.

"I should return home and prepare...and, to say good bye."

He gazes at the empty vault for seconds before turning away. He walked out into the desert, heading back from one journey to begin one anew.​

---

DING!!

A loud chime rings out from the kitchen, piercing through the silence after Maboshi's confession. Granny Ryō clapped her hands giddily, a smile on her face aged dimples pronounced. She slowly makes her way towards the kitchen, humming happily. The oven opened the smell of the baked cakes waft throughout the home, enclosed within the humble hut. She carefully brings the tray over, setting it atop the table. On the tray were several small lumps, their shape and color reminiscent of sand dunes found in the desert. Despite their appearance they smelled divine, a hint of cinnamon found in the scent.

"Alright boys! Have at it!"

She says nothing to Maboshi regarding what he had said, embodying the grandmotherly role to the children present as she offered the baked treats to them. A soft comforting hand rubs his back as she stands there beaming warmly at them.

"There are many ways to help someone. Right now, you all can help me by making sure my baking doesn't go to waste huehuehue."

She pauses, her head turning slightly aside, her smile fading for the briefest of moments. 'So that's it then'. She thought to herself, her smile swiftly returning as she returned to playing host for the young genin. What she felt, and what she was aware of were known only to her. For now, all she could do was help to guide those around her, and hope it was the right path.

 

[LucianRedgrave]

Granny!? Is what Kuromai thought to himself as he caught up with the trio forgoing the offer her sweets as to keep his face concealed or rather the lack thereof. No one had actually seen the boys face since a time before he had gone into the village's ninja academy. When she offered her sweets Kuroami simply shook his head as she welcomed them with open arms. It was clear even as they all huddled around in anticipation for just what she had to offer them that she was providing them with the wisdom of elders. His hand moving up to the back of his head to drink in the knowledge she provided. There was a subtle sense of unease as he looked amongst them. Maboshi not wearing a look of defeat but it was clear that even now as she attempted to peer into the machinations of their minds hoping to root out the cause for their little adventure. Even as that was coming to an end and Maboshi was spelling out what exactly the plan was, it was clear she wasn’t intending to judge. Her intentions were only that of curiosity and jest that even if they were misguided their intentions were pure.

Kuromai couldn’t help but admire Maboshi’s willingness to give in to the gentle caress of granny Ryo’s gentle demeanor. His intentions were no different than the jonin that would inevitably be in charge of the lot of them. He just wanted to extend an olive branch for those that needed the aid of the village. Kuromai’s weight shifted slightly with unease of his own. They were children and even with the skills they did offer what help could they really provide if they were ill prepared. Were they just going to become ankle weights for those that found themselves actually capable. However on the other side of the proverbial coin it was true that even the smallest drop of water could create an even larger ripple. His hand soon moved from the back of his head to his chin cradling the red mask between the web of his thumb and index finger before moving over to clasp Maboshi’s shoulder. He wasn’t going to speak on the matter at hand but instead provide some level of comfort as in his head it seemed the most natural as he gave a curt nod to his compatriot.

It was clear that even as she was finished baking her dune cakes and providing everyone involved with a little glimpse into what age could do for one's wisdom she wasn't going to truly stop them, Kuromai could respect that. After everything was said and done he’d move over to the door they had come through and simply lean against its frame doting on the idea of their current reality. What exactly was the plan once they found out what the adults were up to? Were they planning on running head first into danger or perhaps they would simply continue stalking after Maboshi's father until something beyond their scope finally came to collect. If anyone could see the wheels turning in Kuromai’s head he was certain they would think his inaudible ramblings were that of madness.

 

[Eren]

The moment the dune cakes were finally done—pleasing, warm, and filling the air with that irresistible sweet smell—the child scooted to the side, giving the elder room to work her magic. His eyes followed her every move, wide and gleaming, while his little hands rubbed together in anticipation. His tongue peeked out at the corner of his mouth, betraying just how much he was looking forward to that first bite. Even the thought of tasting one sent a little thrill down his spine.

Of course, it made sense. Kids and sweets go hand in hand, especially ones with a sweet tooth like his. But his excitement wasn’t just about sugar—it was something more. Something about the way he lit up as the elder spoke, announcing that she’d need help finishing the whole batch. It was playful, sure, but it meant something too. Sometimes the best way to show love for someone’s cooking... is to not leave a single crumb behind.


He didn’t respond with words. He didn’t have to. The grin that curled at the corner of his mouth said it all. There was a spark of mischief in his eyes, a flicker of laughter dancing across his face. You could almost hear a chuckle, though it never left his lips. He had a way of showing exactly how he felt without saying a thing—through a raised brow, a shrug, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. In that moment, joy wasn’t just something he felt—it was written all over him.

When the dune cake finally made it into his hands, he didn’t hesitate. He took a huge, eager bite, crumbs bursting out like stardust, clinging to the corners of his mouth. His eyes went wide with wonder, and for a second, it was like the whole world paused. The flavor hit him all at once—sweet, warm, comforting. Like something he’d tasted in a dream, or maybe remembered from long ago. And then came the cinnamon. Soft, subtle, but powerful. It wrapped around the taste like a hug, and that was it. He was hooked. There was no slowing down now. He went in for another bite, and another, each one more magical than the last. He wasn’t just eating. He was savoring every second, completely caught up in the joy of it all.