Note from THSV: Please read the profile for information on this account. This story was written by sabaku-no-ketsueki and is posted on this account with permission. This story is the winning entry for a story contest in the Hidden Storm village on the website wayoftheninja . org. The topic was 'create a Storm ledgend'. Please enjoy :)

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Freedom Never Cries

The fire was everywhere. But so was the water.

He was trapped, and he knew it. The bright orange flame danced in front of the door, blocking his only escape. It flew up the walls, licking the curtains. His small, one-floor home was groaning under the pressure of the pounding rain.

And finally, the roof collapsed.

He felt rather than heard it cave in. The larger pieces just missed his crouching form, and the smaller debris came down with it, adding to the fire. But that was when the water came flooding in.

He looked up through the new hole in his house to where the heavens had opened. Despite the harsh rain, the fire continued to rage on. Still looking up, he saw other pillars of smoke floating to the clouds, merging as one. He realized his was not the only house affected by the lightning.

The roof was too high to jump out of, and the fire prevented any efforts of climbing. It was hopeless, but he was a shinobi; so he kept searching for an escape. But it soon dawned on him.

I am going to die here.

How odd, to die in a fire. He always assumed it would be a kunai through the head, or a shuriken to the heart, or at least something ninja-like. But a fire? How anticlimactic.

Still, he'd given up. He tested the words in his mind. Given Up. Forfeited. Defeated. It was so out of character, but the smoke was making him cough, and he couldn't think properly.

Just as the tunnel vision was finally closing together, one of the walls behind him came crashing down. But he couldn't turn around; his thoughts were in a haze, and he was so tired…

"…Over here!" A male voice called. "He's alive!" The relief in the voice was obvious, but who was it? It sounded so familiar…

"Captain!" Another male voice yelled, but this time farther away. Captain? Oh, yeah, that's me, isn't it?

"Let's get him outside!" This voice was female. Why was everyone so worried, anyway? He didn't care enough to think about it, though; all he wanted to do was sleep. Why wouldn't they let him sleep?

"We're losing him!" The first voice cried, shaking with worry. He felt himself being picked up, and carried somewhere.

And then he was assaulted with fresh air. He breathed in deeply, and felt the fog in his mind clear. After taking in a few sweet breaths of the clean air and coughing out the smoke, he slowly opened his eyes. Looking up, he saw his three saviors crowding around him. Almost instantly he realized the voices he had been hearing were his three subordinates. With a pang of embarrassment, he noticed how he was still in the arms of one of his ninja.

"You can put me down now, Masahiro," he said flatly.

Masahiro blushed. "Of c-course, sir." Masahiro then proceeded to place his captain back on his feet. "What now, Captain Hisashi?"

Hisashi stared so hard at Masahiro that his entire frame trembled slightly. Even his short, black ponytail shook.

The girl standing next to him whacked a gloved hand upside Masahiro's head.
"Stop quivering, you moron," she said sternly, shaking her head so her light brown bangs fell into her face. "What we need to do is find our leader."

"Obviously," Hisashi murmured under his breath. "Sayaka's right," he said, louder. "He's probably somewhere in this mess."

Looking at their tiny, nameless village, Hisashi finally realized the extent of the damage. Mother Nature had really done a number on them. Numerous fires had engulfed most of their houses, even with the rain. The lightening continued to strike around them, followed by the bone jarring thunder.

"Alright then, we're going to split up and look for him." Hisashi gestured to the left side of the village, where the straw houses were burning the fastest. "Masahiro, the Left Development. Sayaka, the rest of the houses. Shinsuke," he addressed the last member of the team, who was standing quietly off to the side, "you take the rest. Nao-sama probably went to help the rest of village when the storm hit, and we may be worrying for nothing. But still, go look!" With that, they scattered.

Hisashi wondered again if they were wasting their time. Nao was a capable ninja, even if he never told them his real name.

A young boy, about six or seven years old, approached Hisashi in a panic.
"What's going on, Sashi?" he asked fearfully, using the nickname Hisashi despised, but didn't have the heart to say so.

Kneeling down to the child, Hisashi patted his head. "Don't worry, Silver; we'll have this fixed in no time."

Silver sniffled. "We're not going back there, are we?"

It took Hisashi a minute to realize he meant back to their old village. "Of course not."

There wasn't a thing in the world that would force them back to their original village: the Village Hidden in the Stars. The villagers would often say how it should be renamed "The Village Hidden in Hell". Their Kage wasn't even a real leader; he was just a puppet for the government to use to raise taxes and run the village for their own benefit. The word corruption often came to mind when thinking back to those days.

A rebellion was only a dream to the villagers. No one was brave enough—or strong enough—to lead that many people—until Nao popped up.

Though he refused to tell anyone his real name, the villagers trusted him immensely. He was very young—couldn't have been older than seventeen—but he was tall, strong, and kind. His parents were killed when he was ten, when the government had introduced a new, outrageously high "war tax"—though for what war, nobody really knew. Like many people, Nao's parents couldn't pay it, and they ended up in matching body bags. It was then Nao decided to become a shinobi, and a fine one at that.

So when the day came that Nao went around asking for people to come with him, there were few objections. The only question that came up was, why? What's going on? At this, Nao would get a strange sparkle in his eyes, and simply say, "A revolution."

Finally, when he had gathered as many people as he could, Nao explained. "People are dying here, starving to death because they can't afford to buy food along with paying their taxes. They end up living on the streets because the government's taken over the land they live on. It's not right, and we all know it! We don't need this!" He stopped to see most of the crowd agreeing with him. "So what's stopping us from leaving? Let's break away from this corruption, and start over!"

At this, the crowd fell silent. Sure, it really sucked here, in this horrible little village, but at least they were protected. Food was available, along with water, and everything else they needed. No one had the confidence to leave and start their own village.

But Hisashi had immediately stepped forward. Shinsuke and Sayaka followed their leader, and lastly, so did a rather reluctant Masahiro.

Hisashi smiled at Nao. "You'll lead us to greatness."

At this, Nao looked genuinely shocked. "W-well, I didn't think I'd be the one to lead…"

Smirking, Hisashi punched him playfully on the shoulder. "Modest as always, eh?"
Despite the fact that Hisashi was older—though not by much—he looked up to Nao.

Together, they managed to convince most of the villagers to join them. But some still refused to leave—mostly the elderly, who saw no point in trying to leave this late in life, and the select few still loyal to the government. With that, the rebellion packed up and left. The shinobi that had left with them left their headbands behind—in a small pile at the front gate.

And here they were: in the midst of building a new place to call home. That's when the storm hit.

An urgent tugging on his shirt brought Hisashi back to the present. Still kneeling, he asked the young boy, "Why aren't you with the other children, Silver?"

Silver pointed to a building that was burning fiercely, with most of its roof caved in. "I was stuck in that house and couldn't get out, and Nao-sama heard me screaming and kicked down the door to get me."

Classic Nao. "Then what?"

"He got me out, and told me to go with the other kids, but then the roof collapsed on him!" Silver pointed frantically to the same building. "I think he's still in there!" he wailed fearfully.

"Oh, shit," Hisashi then looked down at Silver, who was staring at him. "You, uh, didn't hear that," he stammered. Note to self: swearing around children: bad.
"Go join the others, ok? They're all at the meeting place." When they had first set up camp here, over three weeks ago, they had agreed on a place to go if anything were to happen. It was on the outskirts of their little makeshift village, just inside the forest that surrounded them.

As Silver ran off, Hisashi took off running to the building Silver had pointed out. The fire was slowly burning itself out, but the structure had already caved in on itself. Dropping to his knees, he frantically started digging, and soon saw Masahiro out of the corner of his eye. Calling out to him, Hisashi ordered the young shinobi to find the other two, and bring them to the ruined building. Soon enough, the four of them were digging through the debris.

In the end, it was Shinsuke who found him. He yelled for the others, his normally bored, steady voice shaking.

The others stumbled over to see their beloved leader in Shinsuke's arms, eyes closed, with a wooden beam sticking neatly through his chest.

Hisashi was the one to take Nao's body from his trembling student. He choked back a sob as he searched for signs of life. Hisashi was ready to declare him dead when Nao's eyes fluttered open.

Hisashi gasped slightly. "Nao-sama—" But Nao shook his head, cutting him off. "Enough with the formalities, ok?" His voice was weak; Hisashi had to bend lean in to hear him. Two thick lines of blood ran down both sides of his mouth.

Gripping his friend's hand, he tried desperately not to let the tears flow. But he's so young…too young to die.

Nao's fading eyes drifted behind Hisashi's head. Turning, he saw his team behind him. Sayaka had an arm around Masahiro, and was sobbing quietly into his shoulder, while her other hand was latched onto Shinsuke's. Masahiro looked as if he was trying hard not to cry, but was failing, as there were wet streaks down his face that were obviously not rain. Even Shinsuke, calm, cool, detached Shinsuke, had a look of sadness and grief on his face. He was standing a little farther apart from the other two, but was still clutching Sayaka's hand.

"But," Hisashi said quietly as Nao slowly turned his face back to the sky, "who's going to lead us now?"

Nao smiled. "You'll think of something."

A sudden thought came to Nao. "We still…need a name, don't we?"

Hisashi smiled sadly. "Yeah. Got any ideas?"

Drawing in a shaky breath, Nao coughed out some of the blood in his lungs. His eyes closed, and his head fell to the side. Nao's hand went slack in Hisashi's, but that made him grip harder. Lowering his head, Hisashi finally allowed himself to feel the tears streak down his face.

Nao's dying words were so quiet, Hisashi almost missed them; but they would be legendary.

"How about we call it…Storm."

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