"Kingdom of Sand and Death"
The planet of light had already reached the top of its course, and it was striking down, without mercy, at the four figures crossing the desert. They had been marching for at least half a day, their strong, disciplined bodies hardly requiring any rest.
Every single member of this company of four was covered in a white, worn out cloth, which served as means to keep both the heat and sand away. Nevertheless, one could tell from a mile away that these travellers were not common.
The first in line, and tallest of them, was the leader, not necessarily the strongest, but definitely the most experienced. He carried nothing, but a piece of white fabric masked half of his face. The other half could not pass as good looking.
The last in line, displayed a rather ragged, face, not particularly handsome. Locks of mousey hair would randomly appear under his black hood, and a set of crimson lines had been painted to disguise his expressions. The object he carried on his back- whatever that may be- was wrapped in bandages.
The second in line, was the only female. Despite the harsh conditions, her face constantly portrayed signs of arrogance. Spiky, golden hair and sea coloured eyes completed her portrait. She was the owner of an unusually large fan.
Finally, the third in line was a boy that couldn't have been more than thirteen years old. He was slender, and dragged himself in line with so little energy; it appeared he was on the verge of collapsing. A mane of harsh, messy, scarlet hair embraced his sweaty forehead, parting on one side to reveal a tattooed word. His overall image was one that brought uneasiness at best, the most unusual thing being his eyes. They were a shade of washed out light blue that contrasted with the black marks around them. One could be fooled into calling them 'beautiful' easily, if it weren't for the vast emptiness they revealed. He carried a gourd.
So, the team continued to conquer sand hill after sand hill until its captain would say otherwise.
'I think it is affordable,' stated the ninja with the painted face, laying the bandaged object, which was a puppet, gently on the ground. He leapt on a rock, and shielding his eyes from the sun with his hands, peered at the horizon. The land was barren in all directions. 'Chuunin exam won't be starting for another week. We should be there in two days at most.'
'I don't need to rest yet Kankuro. Neither should you.' Kankuro scowled at his fair haired sister.
'And what about Gaara? You wouldn't want our little bro getting tired and cranky now, would you?' It was Temari's turn to frown at her younger brother's snigger. As usual, this didn't last longer than a moment.
'Ha!' she exhaled, shutting her eyes and smirking with satisfaction. 'I guess I would want him to rest too….if I were afraid of him…'
'Who's afraid of…?' Began the puppeteer, but soon hushed in defeat. A gust of hot air hit them, sprinkling sand all over their hair and clothes. They didn't bother to dust it off. 'Well….' He commented picking up his puppet again, 'It was the captain's call to rest for five minutes. And we have wasted them arguing. Now, where is Gaara?'
A few feet away, the latter was standing stone still. His eyes were piercing the ground in front of him, which was darkened by his own shadow. He avoided blinking to the point of pain.
'Gaara!' came the voice of his annoying brother, 'Get back here! We are about to set off!'
Gaara did not even flinch. The situation he was observing seemed to him a lot less trivial than this journey. So he continued to stare in apathy, and secretly burn.
Half a dozen desert lizards lay at his feet. However, they didn't seem to notice him at all, as they were otherwise occupied. One of the lizards, the strongest of the group, was monstrous in appearance. In contrast to the rest of its kin, it was darker and its back displayed a collection of revolting spikes. The reptile's face seemed disfigured and ugly, even for a lizard. This was definitely a beast, a mistake of its tribe, and it was being treated like the repulsive creature that it was. One by one, the rest of its community attacked it, biting, hitting, pushing, scratching and tearing. It was a miserable sight. Gaara's eyes darkened.
'Come on all right!' he heard Kankuro yell in the background, 'Why don't you listen to your big bro for once?!'
Now his eyes were gradually being blinded by a veil of madness. 'It is too late,' he thought 'I have to do what must be done….', at that, a determined grin, dipped in malice cracked his pale lips, and he raised a palm, as if trying to grip a handful of air. Then, his lips parted, and two words were spoken.
'Desert coffin…'
Kankuro fell silent. He sat next to his sister sharing her silence. They didn't quite know who the unlucky victim of the technique was this time, but there simply was nothing they could do about it. So, they waited. They waited for the next two words, and the freshly created springs of hot blood.
… Desert funeral …
Their younger brother finally appeared over a sand hill. They nodded at him in recognition and immediately stood up in preparation to advance.
'Let's move on,' came the first comment of their captain since they had stopped.
One by one, the siblings followed after him, resuming their route. Even Gaara took one obedient step, before halting to look behind one last time.
He scanned the dry terrain until his eyes fell on the remains of the reptilians. They lay motionless but their blood was still spreading between the grains of sand. Among the corpses, stood the sole survivor of the massacre. The deformed lizard was crawling in blood, looking aimlessly around, at the infinite emptiness. It was dead silent. There were no more of its kind left, and if it were to find some, they would undoubtedly attack again. It was still different from them. It was still a monster.
Gaara felt sick at these thoughts. He raised a hand, trembling fingers tracing the carved word on his sweaty skin. He looked at the lizard again. It had regained some confidence and was now attacking the lifeless forms of its former enemies. 'Love...' he thought. His hand was now held in front of his eyes, which were rapidly moving, as if studying it would help him understand the tattooed word better. The lizard was still trudging through bloody sand. It was now covered in it. Gaara directed his raised palm towards it and whispered two more words.
The lizard found itself wrapped inside a sandy cocoon. It was shady and quiet in there. It was warm too. So peaceful. It lay down, happily drifting to sleep, hardly worried about the next two words the human boy had just spoken. It sounded like 'Desert Funeral'…Then everything went blank.
The team was once again making its way through the unforgiving wilderness, walking in a straight line, crossing acre after acre of identical wasteland. The third in line was a red haired boy with eerie eyes. He clearly was the strongest of the group. So different and alone… This was his legacy. A legacy of blood and solitude. For he was the only heir to this kingdom's throne. A kingdom of sand and death.
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