Kinsha age 16
More Kinsha-drabbling...
She turns sixteen the day she becomes a jounin of Sunagakure, but not even she remembers it. Among the shifting sands of the desert, where many of Sunagakure's shinobi do not even know the year of their births and await every day as the moment of their deaths, such things are unimportant. By sunrise she's already been awake for nearly two hours, too keyed-up to sleep. She doesn't think she's scared; she's faced death in the teeth nearly every day of her life, and she's far too stubborn to run.
So she sits cross-legged by the darkening embers of a dying little fire, polishing the wooden case of her fan till it shines smooth and silken in the cold grey predawn light. A finger of sunlight sweeps over the horizon, pulling gold from the sand and her hair, sparks from the fire, an ebony gleam from her fan. One of the blanket-swaddled figures across the fire from her shifts and mumbles in his sleep. Kinsha tucks her polishing rag back into her hip pouch and pushes herself to her feet.
The Kazekage is still there, sitting silent as a stone Buddha on the sweeping crest of the dune above their little camp. It's light enough now that she can make out the chiseled lines of his face beneath the mask, the gleam of the sun in his dark hair. When she woke a little before three o'clock he was already there, a spiky-haired silhouette against the stars, brooding over the camp; she doesn't think he's moved since then.
She gains the summit of the dune, slipping a little with the loose sand and the heavy weight of the fan on her back. She winces at the noise, but she's embarrassed even less often than she's scared; she meets the Kazekage's gaze without wavering.
"You should be sleeping," she says quietly. "Makaze-sama."
The corners of his mouth crinkle under the mask. "This from the kunoichi who's spent the past two hours polishing her fan?"
Kinsha shrugs. "There won't be time later." She hunkers down beside him, driving the butt of the fan into the sand to provide her a little more stability. "When are we going to fight?"
Makaze-sama's dark eyes look a little surprised at her boldness in coming so close, in speaking to him like this, but she refuses to let it drive her away. Probably he still thinks of her as the skinny freckled girl with the fan as big as she was, or even of the tiny child who clutched her mother's hand as the woman swore loyalty to Makaze and his shinobi band. Kinsha's mother died three years before the end of the war; she cried for a day and then took up her mother's fan and went out to join her comrades. She hasn't cried since then. She swore when she was twelve years old, when the war ended and Makaze-sama led his people to the village they would call Sunagakure, that she would be a shinobi to make Makaze-sama proud, and she hasn't forgotten that oath.
"In another hour, I think," Makaze-sama says quietly. "The enemy's perhaps ten kilometers away, but moving slowly; our advance guards will engage them in a little while." He glances over at her again, and for a moment she's sure that his eyes are staring into her soul. She doesn't blink. He looks away after a moment, and then says, "Everyone should be up within half an hour. We'll make you a jounin then. If you survive today, you'll have earned it."
"I will," she says fiercely.
He smiles. "I'm looking forward to it."
...I think Makaze is a pedophile. WHY did I have to do the 20-years age difference? *goes to scrub out brain*
-Ki
She turns sixteen the day she becomes a jounin of Sunagakure, but not even she remembers it. Among the shifting sands of the desert, where many of Sunagakure's shinobi do not even know the year of their births and await every day as the moment of their deaths, such things are unimportant. By sunrise she's already been awake for nearly two hours, too keyed-up to sleep. She doesn't think she's scared; she's faced death in the teeth nearly every day of her life, and she's far too stubborn to run.
So she sits cross-legged by the darkening embers of a dying little fire, polishing the wooden case of her fan till it shines smooth and silken in the cold grey predawn light. A finger of sunlight sweeps over the horizon, pulling gold from the sand and her hair, sparks from the fire, an ebony gleam from her fan. One of the blanket-swaddled figures across the fire from her shifts and mumbles in his sleep. Kinsha tucks her polishing rag back into her hip pouch and pushes herself to her feet.
The Kazekage is still there, sitting silent as a stone Buddha on the sweeping crest of the dune above their little camp. It's light enough now that she can make out the chiseled lines of his face beneath the mask, the gleam of the sun in his dark hair. When she woke a little before three o'clock he was already there, a spiky-haired silhouette against the stars, brooding over the camp; she doesn't think he's moved since then.
She gains the summit of the dune, slipping a little with the loose sand and the heavy weight of the fan on her back. She winces at the noise, but she's embarrassed even less often than she's scared; she meets the Kazekage's gaze without wavering.
"You should be sleeping," she says quietly. "Makaze-sama."
The corners of his mouth crinkle under the mask. "This from the kunoichi who's spent the past two hours polishing her fan?"
Kinsha shrugs. "There won't be time later." She hunkers down beside him, driving the butt of the fan into the sand to provide her a little more stability. "When are we going to fight?"
Makaze-sama's dark eyes look a little surprised at her boldness in coming so close, in speaking to him like this, but she refuses to let it drive her away. Probably he still thinks of her as the skinny freckled girl with the fan as big as she was, or even of the tiny child who clutched her mother's hand as the woman swore loyalty to Makaze and his shinobi band. Kinsha's mother died three years before the end of the war; she cried for a day and then took up her mother's fan and went out to join her comrades. She hasn't cried since then. She swore when she was twelve years old, when the war ended and Makaze-sama led his people to the village they would call Sunagakure, that she would be a shinobi to make Makaze-sama proud, and she hasn't forgotten that oath.
"In another hour, I think," Makaze-sama says quietly. "The enemy's perhaps ten kilometers away, but moving slowly; our advance guards will engage them in a little while." He glances over at her again, and for a moment she's sure that his eyes are staring into her soul. She doesn't blink. He looks away after a moment, and then says, "Everyone should be up within half an hour. We'll make you a jounin then. If you survive today, you'll have earned it."
"I will," she says fiercely.
He smiles. "I'm looking forward to it."
...I think Makaze is a pedophile. WHY did I have to do the 20-years age difference? *goes to scrub out brain*
-Ki