| abstract | - The moonlight shined brightly over Sunagakure as it illuminated a star filled abyss. The village slept peacefully with only a few enjoying nightly strolls or engaging in some rather illegal actions. Others embraced lovers and children deviously stood awake to play games after their allotted bedtime. Either way, Sunagakure experienced a level of peacefulness brought upon by the Sixth Kazekage. The Sixth kept relations between neighboring countries strong despite many treaties breaking. She managed to retain the Shukaku and halt it's destructive tendencies. Yes, the Sixth Kazekage was a leader greatly respected, loved and feared by all. And she served as inspirations for many aspiring shinobi. Sunagakure gust cooled the desert village as time passed. Soon, it's sands were chilled to those who walked barefoot. And their shifting sensation formed a therapeutic massage beneath. A man, who took a step out onto his balcony for fresh air after a passionate night, saw a rather small silhouette standing above Sunagakure's natural walls. Not only did the mysterious figure possess long flowing hair which followed the wind's directions, a massive shadowy formation also protruded from it's lower back. The man dimmed his eyes and smiled once he realized who watched over the village. The Daimyō's only child stood at Sunagakure's clifftop without fear of the immense drop. Sunagakure's gentle breeze pulled at his unique silver kimono which was decorated with intricate crimson eyespots that matched those found upon the feathers which bristled his large tail. Zenjou's feathers shivered in the cold wind as it swayed to and fro. The gentle breeze kissed Zenjou's deathly skin, ultimately giving it a blushed appearance. His golden eyes, usually capable of piercing the darkness, were closed tightly. Thus outlining the darkened rings around his eyes that he attempted to hide with mascera. Zenjou stood deep in thought. Unfortunately, Zenjou was cursed with a lack of sleep due to reoccurring nightmares. Memories of pain, torment and suffering. He lived hundreds of death's and felt every second of torture. He could barely sleep without waking up in sweat and screaming. Phantoms haunted Zenjou's room and memories etched themselves into his psyche. He saw families burn and friends butchered. And although Zenjou's mind attempted to suppress these visions, certain memories found their way into Zenjou's consciousness. Either way, the young lord attempted to divert his attention from such problems. Since he recently acquired a great success. I've finally become a Genin. He pondered. And tomorrow begins the next step of conquering the lands. But those thoughts, which should have brought him great happiness, instead irritated the young shinobi. For he already knew who'd accompany him on the path of realizing his destiny. And although the he possessed an indifferent view towards his new sensei, the thought of walking besides...him...Sickened Zenjou. The sickening youth of whom Zenjou spoke took the unassuming figure of a child, and a small child at that, slowly climbing the rugged path leading to the isolated clifftop on which his new teammate stood. He too shivered and drew his dark red jacket further around himself, seeking protection from the desert winds. Through half-lidded eyes he glanced at the figure on the rocky outcrop, surveying the vast expanse of their village. Even from his position, in the blanketing darkness of the night, his eyes could make out the delicate feathered tail which spread out elegantly behind him. It was hard to think that a visage of such majesty could incite such fear, even in a child. Something about those feathers, the eyespots the colour of blood. In spite of himself, Isamu shivered, this time not because of the slight, but chilling desert wind which seemed to bite at every bit of his exposed skin. He also seemed unafraid of the height at which he was climbing, not looking down, instead focusing on his footing on the path, and occasionally glancing to the shadowy figure, a sensation which had become all too familiar. Zenjou, the young lord, standing high above the rest, alone, on a precipice that no-one else could hope to reach. Finally drawing near to the solitary figure, Isamu hauled himself up to the plateau on the top of the clifftop, and stood up. Zenjou was still facing away from him and gave no indication that he was aware of Isamu's presence. He approached his new teammate warily, as if he were trying not to wake a sleeping bear. "Zenjou", he said carefully. He felt no ill will towards Zenjou, nor did he particulary like him. He himself did not particulary want to be up here, but felt at least an obligation to introduce himself before the team meeting. That was all, an introduction. Nothing more, nothing less. Sunagakure had a peculiar phrase that went speak of a sandstorm and it shall arrive. And well enough, Zenjou's sandstorm appeared behind him as a chid with crimson hair. However, the young lord neither budged an inch nor acknowledge Isamu's presence. Instead, Zenjou stood proudly over Sunagakure with golden eyes that now glowed radiantly as they looked across the village he called home. The heavens above held the young lord's attention for minutes before he finally decided to look halfly towards Isamu. Zenjou heard rumors of Isamu and his clan from both friends and family. Heki even spoke of them as a family who could force the wind itself to obey their command. A group of shinobi whose prodigious skill made them perhaps one of the shinobi world's deadliest families. They possessed an unrivaled dominance over the desert's wind and forced gods to kneel. Yet the constant appraisals opposed how Isamu displayed himself, or at least how Zenjou perceived him, during their time as classmates. Zenjou only recognized Isamu as an average shinobi without a care who only followed the orders of the wind. While teacher's praised Zenjou for his consistent demonstrations of power and potential, they berated Isamu's lack of drive. He heard of the immense reservoir of power Isamu unknowingly restrained which caused Zenjou to further his opinion of Isamu being an absolute waste. A lazy punk who lives the life of a slacker. How could someone with so little aspiration get so far, a waste of time and space! Zenjou thought while analyzing Isamu's mere presence. He noted everything from the shoes Isamu wore to how his hair was kept. The vast difference that existed between how the T clan was discussed and how he acted confused Zenjou greatly. Even worse; They put this loser on my team...Is this some joke? How can I conquer the world with him slowing me down. Zenjou's inner voice soon became fuel for an internal flame. He felt a certain sensation burn through his very being...The urging rage that lead to the Kaguya Clan's savagery. However, deep breaths calmed the young lord greatly who now stood facing Isamu. His golden eyes peered into Isamu's eyes sharply but he spoke not a word... As Isamu stared into Zenjou's eyes, he saw at once what it was that his teammate held against him. He was not irritated, not even indfifferent, he simply did not like Isamu. At that moment Isamu knew there would be no comprimising, no friendly team relationship. Zenjou simply did not like him and he doubted there was anything that he could do to convince himself otherwise. Examining the rest of Zenjou's body, he could deifantely see the lineage of the Daimyō in him. He wore a majestic silver kimono, pouring off of his body in the moonlight. His hair, equally pale, glinted, reflecting back the silvery light. The most unnerving thing about Zenjou, Isamu had decided, was the multitude of eyes that followed him wherever he went. Crimson eyespots on each and every feather in the royal display of beauty and fear that spread out behind him. Looking away from the mesmerising sight, he reaffirmed Zenjou's gaze for a few seconds. Sighing again he looked away and stuck out his hand. "I'm Isamu. Isamu Takema. Pleased to meet you, I guess". Even he could hear the false, empty tones of his voice, but Isamu did not bother to disguise them. Zenjou's visage transformed from a slight dislike to absolute confusion. At that very moment, one could question whether Zenjou even understood the meaning of Isamu's actions. He seemingly glared through the alien gesture that Isamu had offered with blank eyes that matched Isamu's voice. As if I'd have to introduce myself to a slacker such as himself! Zenjou's inner monologues demonstrated a hint of disgust. A snobbish tone that would surely lead to confrontation if spoken out loud. But Zenjou's lack of social knowledge revealed the method of which he had been raised. To love others meant becoming their tool; Afterall, his birth revolved around a secretive mission to produce the ultimate shinobi for war. Hell, Zenjou's life almost became an absolute hell without humanity. Heki was the first line of defense who stood beside the child's right to a happy life filled with decisions based off free will rather than personal interest. Yet, fighting against Sunagakure's elders and training Zenjou made it humanely impossible for Heki to spend enough time instilling a stronger sense of humanity into the young weapon. This lack of human nature caused him to stare at Isamu as if the Takema shinobi spoke a separate language. He had not a clue on how to respond. Instead, Zenjou only turned away hoping that the phantom of kindness would vanish in a few minutes. "What do you want?" As Zenjou spoke these words and it became clear to Isamu that he was not going to take his hand, he dropped it to his side. Isamu was rarely shocked by anything, but Zenjou's rudeness startled him inwardly, though he did not show it. Even the words What do you want? revealed to Isamu a basic thought process that prevaled within Zenjou's mind, that of desire. Ambition. The idea that everyone always wanted something. And whereas to Zenjou Isamu's gesture may have seemed alien to him, ambition and desire were two things that Isamu just could not understand. And to a childhood Isamu, Zenjou was the very embodiment of these things. Now Isamu had burned through his list of greetings, his personality was laid bare. Now there was no chance of a friendship, Isamu could not be bothered to try and patch up whatever problem Zenjou had with him. "I don't want anything Zenjou. I made a mistake was all. I should have known better". He turned away from Zenjou and began to walk slowly back to the rocky path which led back down the cliff, telling himself that he didn't care, and failing. With his presence hidden by the surroundings and his own intentions, a pair of blue eyes gazed upon the interaction between the two boys. He was, unsuspecting to many, the Jōnin-sensei assigned to this trio. Of course, he would soon regret his decision. "Little children...one has a superiority complex, and the other is entirely carefree..." The thoughts ran within the man's head. The wind began to pick up and a scarf blew away from his head, revealing a crop of blond hair and a surprisingly handsome figure. "Making a monster deal with irritating children..." The man thought to himself as he turned around, finishing his job for today. "You just love torturing poor old Monster Ginryū, don't you, Samiya?" His thoughts concluded before his presence disappeared with the wind, leaving not a trace behind.
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