A/N: Hello! Thanks for choosing 'The Rebellion.' As I explained at the start of the prologue, this is a 'what if' sort of story. What if the Allied Shinobi Forces won the battle, but not the war? What if they were defeated, so much so that they became scattered and hunted? Read on to find out; it may seem a little slow at the start, but give it a chance. You should see a very familiar face if you look closely enough! :3
Chapter One
"Are we there yet? Seems like we've been walking toward the outer wall forever . . . ."
Gritting her teeth, the dark-haired girl rolled her eyes skyward, praying for patience. "Genji, I swear, if you ask me that one more time, I'm going to make you eat sand."
"If it was a sandwich, I wouldn't mind." Following just behind his companion, red-haired Genji had both hands stuck in his pockets, the long scarf around his neck pulled up over his nose and mouth to prevent him from breathing in any windblown grit. His hair, pulled back in a ponytail, flapped over his shoulder as wind hit the two of them from behind. "Come on, Yurei, lighten up. You're so tense."
"We're going to a ghost town; there's nothing relaxing about that," the girl quipped, scowling harder. Her clothing, in contrast to her friend's varied shades of purple, was a mixture of teal and dark blue; comfortable to wear in almost any setting. A full eight inches stood between the two of them in height, Genji being nearly six feet and Yurei barely passing five.
"Still, it'll be nice to see the old fort after so long." The words were off-hand, but Genji's voice held a touch of irony. Though neither of them wore a hitai-ate, both were former Sunagakure ninja.
They walked on in silence, the outer wall drawing steadily closer as time passed. At long last, they entered its shadow, feeling relief from the harsh desert sun. Unwrapping the scarf from around his face, Genji took a deep breath.
"Man, that feels better. I think my chin was starting to sweat."
Yurei glanced back at him. ". . . Okay . . . ew. Why are we talking about chin sweat?"
"Well, we weren't, but since you brought it up—"
"I AM NOT DISCUSSING THIS WITH YOU."
In the cleft, the cliff walls rising high above them, it was notably cooler. As they paused for a drink, Yurei checked the afternoon light. "About four hours of daylight left. We should find someplace to hole up for the night."
Genji wiped his mouth, eyes carefully scanning the surrounding area. "Yeah. What about the Kazekage's tower? We'd have a good view from there; make sure nothing sneaks up on us."
"Sounds good."
Starting off again, they emerged on the main street, practiced feet treading easily through the soft sand. At one time, it would have been packed flat by the number of feet walking the path, but that was just another thing time had changed.
Despite the heat, Yurei shivered as they walked past the buildings. ". . . Look at this place . . . . Nothing's the same."
"Didn't think it would be." Genji watched the crumbling walls of buildings warily. "I just hope that nothing collapses on us. The way this looks, I wouldn't be surprised if a wall just fell apart on us or a crossbeam tried to bisect me . . . ."
"Ugh. When did you get so negative?"
"When I got surrounded by all this ugly!" He waved an arm in an expansive gesture. "Look around! This place is a mess, and it used to be so nice! Back when people actually lived here!"
Yurei gave a soft snort. "'Surrounded by ugly,' huh? Gee, thanks."
"No! No, you're not ugly, just the city is! It's all dingy and dirty and falling apart —"
"We used to live here, Genji."
He paused, then scowled. "Stop screwing with my head, Yurei. You're gonna make my brain explode." She merely giggled in response.
He watched them from a rooftop, lying flat so that he wouldn't be seen. Suspiciously-narrowed eyes followed as they made their progress along the street, arguing back and forth.
It wasn't so much that he was curious about them . . . but they carried supplies. Supplies that he could use.
Knowing that they planned to shelter in the Kazekage's tower, he squirmed backward, away from the roof edge, before getting to his feet. If he was to have a good chance of stealing some of their supplies, he would need to get there before they did.
He sped along, loose clothing flapping quietly. The man wore a sand-coloured cloak that reached his waist, with faded black pants and a mesh shirt underneath. He had no shoes, his feet wrapped in strips of cloth around the sensitive instep, as well as the ankle. They were calloused and perpetually dusty from treading through sand; the skin was dry, but mercifully unbroken.
At times becoming nothing more than a shadowy blur, the man bypassed the hunting trails of the wild dogs by sticking to the rooftops. It wasn't one of their usual hunting times; that wouldn't be for another couple hours, meaning his two "visitors" would be safe when they reached the tower.
He finally went to ground at the tower's base, looking around cautiously. He had made it well ahead of the two wanderers; now to find a place to hide until he could pounce. Opening the main door, he slipped inside and closed it behind him before slinking off along the darkened passages.
If I were them, where would I set up camp?
Abruptly, he looked up, as though he could see through the other stories to the tower's round top. He grinned. Of course . . . . Why use some dingy little office when you could camp out in the Kazekage's?
The red-headed stranger had talked about having a good view from the Kazekage's tower. They would either use the office with its large windows, or camp on top of the tower itself. If they did the latter, though, the cold of the desert night would undoubtedly force them indoors.
Better safe than sorry. Hide somewhere too small for the two of them.
He made his way up to the top level, to a small door down the hall from the Kazekage's former office. Opening it, he stepped into the small janitor's closet and crouched. He left the door open just the slightest bit, with a tiny crack to see when his 'visitors' arrived.
Fifteen minutes later, they did. They seemed much more subdued now, and considerably sadder. The young woman paused outside the office doors.
"I dunno, Genji . . . ." She folded her arms, hugging herself uneasily. "I don't feel right, invading Gaara-sama's office for a campsite."
"It's not exactly his office anymore," the red-haired man, Genji, reasoned. He pushed the doors open and strode inside. "Stop jumping at ghosts, will you? We were in here all the time before; it's nothing new."
His companion followed him in, and the doors closed. Leaning back against the side wall of the closet, the man settled in to wait. He might as well catch a nap now — he would need to be alert later on.
Five hours passed, with almost agonizing slowness. The man didn't mind; it wasn't as though he had other places to be. He dozed off and on, always listening for footsteps or voices. He caught the occasional shout as the two argued (as they seemed prone to doing) but they never left the offices, and eventually even the shouts stopped.
He waited another half an hour, then got to his feet and slipped out into the hallway. Bare feet silent on the floorboards, he moved through the shadows to the office doors and paused to listen. Inside, he could hear the quiet breathing of the two, both deep and slow, indicating sleep. He eased the door open just slightly.
A kunai appeared in his hand from the folds of his cloak; he stuck the blade inside the new gap, using it as a mirror to see the room within. The girl was lying against the far wall, curled into a loose ball under her blanket. Her companion was under the windows, flat on his back, arms skewed at odd angles in his sleep.
Secreting the knife, the man opened the door further, just enough to squeeze inside and then close it again. The only light — and it wasn't much — came from the moon outside, shining out of a cloudless sky.
The man crossed the floor, silent as a shadow, keeping wary eyes on the two sleepers. He crouched by the girl's pack and undid the buckle. Inside were several packages wrapped in brown paper — dried food for the trip through the desert — and two water bottles, one empty and one partially filled.
He removed the empty water bottle, and three of the food packets; that left three for her, enough that she would be able to survive until she got well out of the desert. Fastening the buckle again, he left his prizes where they were and moved toward the young man's pack.
The deep purple scarf was practically invisible inside the patch of shadow. Sitting in a loose pile, it was directly in the man's path, as he soon discovered. The loose folds of the fabric caught his foot, causing him to stumble. For a moment he teetered, on the edge of losing his balance; in desperation, he reached for the edge of the large desk. His hand hit a paperweight near the edge, nudging it just enough to send it to the ground with a loud thud!
The room came remarkably alive in the span of two seconds. Losing his battle with gravity, the man dropped to the floor in a swath of moonlight from the windows as the other two sat up, alerted by the sudden noises.
Rising fluidly to his feet, the male redhead faced the man on the floor. "Yurei! Need some light, here!"
The man rolled into a defensive crouch, hearing a distinct "Lightning Style: Shock Therapy!" from his right. A blaze of flickering blue light sprang up, sending multiple shadows dancing across the walls, and illuminating all three people.
The young man, Genji, faced the nameless man. "Who are you?" No answer. "You always go around sneaking up on people like that?" He tensed as the man slowly stood straight, watching. "What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?"
"Maybe he's a mute?" Yurei suggested. She stood with both arms half-raised in front of her, tendrils of lightning dancing just above the skin and in between her fingers. As the man's eyes darted toward her, she tried a smile. "Look, we're not going to kill you or anything. Let's just all settle down."
"Yurei, don't smile; with that light, you look really creepy," Genji said dryly.
In a sudden movement, the man whirled and bolted for the door. Shadows shifted on the walls, messing with his vision; a shout from Genji, and a moment later, a live hydro wire connected with his spine.
Dropping to the floor, the man twitched violently, rolling onto his back. Yurei stood over him, hands still glowing, with a regretful expression. "Sorry, mister, but we still need to have a chat with you. Don't worry, we really don't mean to hurt you. Look . . . ."
The glow disappeared from her right hand, and she held it out to him. The man looked at it for a moment, then slowly got to his feet on his own. Yurei took a half step back, gesturing him toward the desk.
Genji was already sitting in the dusty chair, feet propped on the desktop, fingers laced together in front of his chin. His eyes were narrowed as he watched the stranger take a few steps forward. ". . . . Got a name?" he asked bluntly.
"Ryūkei." The man's voice was rough and scratchy-sounding from disuse. He swallowed a couple times, then tried again. "My name is Ryūkei."
Yurei took a small travel lantern from her pack, and set it on the desk. A touch from one electrified fingertip set the wick alight; once it was burning steadily, she let the lightning on her left hand fade. "Ryūkei . . . . 'Exile,' huh?"
'Ryūkei' nodded once in confirmation.
"You're not from Suna," Genji observed. "I never heard of anybody with that name coming from here. Where are you from?"
Hesitating a moment, Ryūkei studied the other male. ". . . . Konoha."
Perching on the edge of the desk, Yurei tilted her head to one side, frowning slightly. "Were you in the war, then?" She nodded toward her friend. "We were, but I don't remember seeing anyone that looked like you."
"Yeah, well, I look a little different now than I did back then," Ryūkei muttered, shifting uneasily. All the questions were beginning to get a little unnerving; who talked this much right after being woken up in the middle of the night?
"I see." Yurei glanced at her teammate, seeming to think about something. He looked back at her for a moment before she turned away. "Look, why don't you crash here for a couple of hours, until morning? We can talk more then."
Genji sat up straight, dropping his feet to the floor. "Hold on just a second, Yurei —"
"Thanks, but I really should —"
"Where do you get off trusting him already —"
"I have my own place I can go to —"
"He tried to steal our stuff, for crying out loud—"
"I wouldn't want to be in the way, so —"
"SHUT UP, BOTH OF YOU." Thin midnight patience broken, Yurei cut across the simultaneous comments from the men. "Genji, you're just cranky because you got woken up. Back to your spot, and go to sleep; you won't even know he's here if you close your eyes. Ryūkei, don't worry about space or being a nuisance; whatever. There's enough room in here for the three of us. Besides, if you go outside now, you'll be freezing by the time you get wherever you were heading. Better to stay here and stay warm."
Slipping off the desk, she left the lantern where it was a sort of nightlight, going back to her own sleeping spot and settling down on her bedroll. "Like I said; we'll talk more in the morning. Good night."
Getting up from the chair, Genji cast a rueful look at Ryūkei. "When the girl says jump, all we can say is 'how high?'"
"Sleep, Genji."
Ryūkei moved to the wall opposite the desk, and settled down, wrapping his sand-coloured cloak around himself. He wasn't sure he completely trusted these two strangers yet, but he was confident that they wouldn't try to assassinate him while he slept. He was far too light a sleeper for them to succeed if they tried.
The room fell into silence again, as night slowly faded toward morning.