This is just a little something that will begin my next major project, once the first one is done
From what I have seen, people seem very interested to have that situation play out. So I will, when stuff gets done, and when I don't have school.
"Dreams never die, you take them to the grave with you"
The sinking debris of the boat surrounded the man. The surface, visible from underneath his element, was slowly fading. He was still alive. He would, however, not remain alive.
He saw the once corrupted man do the right thing, end the tyranny his father had set upon the world. Why wasn't it over in an instant?
Because he was dying with regrets carved into his heart. He wanted to make the world a better place, even though his father didn't. He wanted to be a good person, loved by everyone he knew, he wasn't.
He reinvented himself completely, covering his criminal face with a mask, and shutting away his past forever. His past came back to haunt him.
In the end, his dream failed, and he would take it to the grave.
Shinzui was not one for discovery. There was nothing comparable to the quiet and comfort of home. Therefore, when he saw the strange dark-skinned man, or boy, lying on the dirt ground in an alleyway, he merely sighed in frustration.
He had a natural fear for the unknown, simply because the unknown had made his life so hard. The shinobi were often highly praised for bringing order to the Land of Fire. Shinzui did not see this. He only saw mindless bandits wielding magic and fancy moves to oppress people. At least, that was what the new group was doing.
The gambit. That was simply what they were called. They ordered a fee for their "protection." Shinzui often questioned whether it was from outside threats, or from The Gambit themselves. Probably a little bit of both-
A sharp gasp from the strange man broke his trance. Great, he was alive, which meant instead of simply bringing him to the morgue, he would have to drag him into his house, and probably feed him with whatever little nibbles he had for the day.
He walked through the dreary grey streets of the town. Buildings looked as if they needed some maintenance. But how could one get that when they had no coin to spare for it.
He passed by the beggar. The only difference between him and the beggar, however, was he still had a living place. It was improper to call him a beggar anyway, all he did was sit on the streets. He was good for small talk, and if conversations went long enough, others would give him coin, if they had any to spare.
"Well boy, what have you been doin' out there? Some pretty shady stuff, if yer carr'in 'round a body." The old man cracked a smile, showing yellow teeth. A short, grey beard surrounded these yellow teeth.
"Don't be silly," Shinzui replied, his voice, dull as his appearance, "I found this. Do you think I have any interest in murdering someone? Too much work."
Well, he can't be that dull. His straight hair that stopped at his shoulders was almost as grey as the beggars, but it looked neat. Besides, why was the man calling him boy? He was in his thirties, or he thought he was. Oh yeah, someone told him some time ago he was thirty.
"Lost in thought?" the old man inquired.
"I will be if I don't get home soon enought," Shinzui replied.
...
The journey home was eventless, just walking down more barely maintained walkways. The door creaked open, and Shinzui slugged through the doorway. The man was unceremoniously laid on the dirt floor.
His attire was strange. The strange material was almost skin-tight, but was thick. A hood was visible on the back of his clothing. Brown boots with militaristic patterns completed the outfit.
Was he a gambit? Probably, his clothing, while not the usual shinobi attire, still looked as if designed for combat. The young face, even in unconsciousness had the hardened look of a soldier.
That face began stirring. As consciousness, gradually flowed back, the man could tell he was not in the sea anymore.
"Just got one question to ask you," Shinzui began, "Are you part of The Gambit?"
The man looked puzzled, which meant one of two things. He was not Gambit, having never heard of it, or he was one hell of a liar.
"I do not know what you are talking about," he replied. His voice had some deep menacing quality to it. He sounded like a natural-born leader. However, it made it hard to believe for Shinzui that this man was not part of some shady organization like the Gambit.
"In fact," he continued, interrupting Shinzui's thought process, "I don't even know where it am."
"Well," Shinzui replied, "If you are looking for a town bustling with activity and opportunity, this isn't the one. Ever since those, thugs, started preying on those who made an honest living, we haven't been able to-"
"I'm not interested," the man replied. His face still remained ever stoic.
"I'm not asking for help," Shinzui annoyingly stated. He was not interested in getting tangled with the gambit.
"I'm not providing any," the man stated as well. He then rose slowly from his position on the ground.
He then continued as he sat up, "I am not fit to provide help. I generally don't like people who unfairly oppress the innocent, but I am not exactly innocent myself. I'm a monster, and I am unfit to help."
The man bowed his head after this statement. He did seem generally depressed. Though, anyone would be generally depressed in this town, and that would not change.
Or would it? Was the status quo something he sought to escape? He enjoyed the familiar, the known. And the Gambit had taken that all away.
"Are you implying that you can help this town?" Shinzui suddenly inquired.
The man paused, "I will only make things worse."
"I can take you a tour around town. I don't know if things could get any worse. You've told me you are a monster, but you seem like an okay guy. It doesn't matter now. Besides, why not redeem yourself?"
Redemption? Another chance to live out the dream that had shattered so miserably? Another chance to see if the accursed powers he was given could do more good?
The man smiled. He saw his reflection in the window. To his surprise, he was just a few years older than when he first left home, the time he first took up his new identity, a clean slate.
He would write on that slate by re-writing this world. Equality, justice, fairness. He would have another chance to free an unwilling people from the clutches of whoever was oppressing him. He could finally escape his wretched destiny by being someone different.
Something was pressing against his chest. It must have gotten caught under there, somehow.
He opened his jacket and removed the object, only to stare into the empty eyes of the white mask he bared when his dream for equality was still alive.
The dream would never die. He had another chance to live it.
And Noatak would do it through his eternal mask.
Hopefully, you like!
K-man (I can't spell it) owns Naruto, and Mike and Bryan, own this mysterious fella.