Sand District

[Jeriah]

Satsujo’s breath slowed as she assessed the situation with acute focus. The battle had been intense, with every move calculated and executed in an effort to best her opponent. Yet, the mistake had come at the most critical moment. She had underestimated Hariku's speed and the destructive potential of Sunagakure’s signature Iron Sand. As her swords, one in each hand, slashed through the air, the metallic edges gleamed with the promise of cutting through anything in their path. But as soon as the blades came into view, something had shifted. Hariku’s fabled Iron Sand seemed to almost sense the metal’s presence, drawn to it like a magnet. There was no time for a second thought or hesitation. The very instant Satsujo felt the resistance in her swing, she knew something was wrong, but it was already too late. The Iron Sand had latched onto her swords with a force that sent a shudder through her arms, pulling the blades to an almost impossible standstill.

Her heart skipped a beat as her swords, once her trusted extensions, turned against her. The steel glinted dangerously, poised at her neck, ready to cut with a mere flick of the wrist. A fatality in the making. Satsujo could feel the weight of the situation, the coldness of the blades that mirrored the seriousness of the battle. Yet, there was something else—an odd thrill, a spark of admiration. She couldn’t help but smirk. “Well played,” she murmured under her breath, almost impressed by Hariku’s skill. "This is what I’d expect from a capable kunoichi of Sunagakure. Seems like they haven’t lost their touch." Her focus shifted briefly as the Iron Sand clone that had been advancing on her disappeared, crumbling into grains of sand, leaving behind only the controlled power of her own blades. Just as she prepared to adapt, a voice echoed softly from behind her.
​

“So, you’ve been elected to be the next Kazekage, Satsujo. I have orders to bring you home.”​

The words caught her off guard for a brief moment, and her eyes widened slightly as she instinctively tensed. A sharp awareness washed over her as the situation took a new turn. She knew the voice before she even turned—Hariku, the blonde kunoichi, was closer than Satsujo had expected. Satsujo, still in a poised stance despite the perilous situation, sheathed her twin wind swords back at her waist. She kept her composure as the weight of Hariku’s words settled in, but her expression remained unfazed, almost neutral. “Like you said,” she replied evenly, her voice steady, “I’m on an important mission, and I don’t have the luxury of playing politician for a village that’s already got capable Kunoichi like yourself.” Her words were measured, but there was a quiet undercurrent of determination that was impossible to ignore. Her gaze remained locked ahead as if she could already sense the direction this confrontation was heading. “I would appreciate your help," she continued, her voice now more serious, "but I can't promise you that I’ll be returning to the village...depending on how this ends. This matter has gone on for far too long." The words carried weight, each syllable a reminder of the complexity of her position. Satsujo was no stranger to difficult decisions, and this mission—one that involved personal, political, and strategic stakes—was one she had no intention of abandoning, no matter how much pressure the village might try to exert on her. The wind whistled softly around them, swirling the grains of sand in the air as the desert's heat pressed in, matching the pressure mounting between them.

Location: Suna Peninsula
Posting Order: Satsujo -> Hariku
Post Time Limit (PTI): 3 Days
Skip Points: ll​

 

[Yozu]

Hariku, Angel of Hell

Hariku remained vigilant, her eyes observing every inch of Satsujo's movements, every jerk of her muscles, every breath like a symphony of music, every sound rippled like the drums of war, the call of ones own, immeasurable bloodlust began to build in Hariku's body, she wasn't annoyed, she was truly holding back her desire to fight, her words held some form of comfort, being recognised was something she truly wished Sunagakure would give her, for she is destined for more.


"Maybe, in time I find myself on the seat of Kazekage. But today isn't that day, the council have chosen you."

Hariku dropped down from the branch, now landing directly beside Satsujo, as each foot planted firmly onto the ground, continued the symphony of music, adding her own additional drumbeats, a calming rhythmic dance between two warriors standing side by side.

"Very well. I will aid you in your mission. Perhaps we will uncover something about the previous Kazekage while we're here."

Her voice remained calm, yet stirn, she had no desire of going home empty handed, nor did she wish for one to fatally injure the other, so the easiest choice is to aid in Satsujo's mission.

"Give me a debrief of what you have, I have followed these.. things here, they left behind tracks from the greenhouse to here and are no where to be seen. The creator of whatever they stole is still alive and secured, the area is closed off till other officials arrive to examine the scene and see if anything else can be uncovered."

Location: Suna Peninsula
Posting Order: Satsujo -> Hariku
Post Time Limit (PTI): 3 Days
Skip Points: ll​

 

[Jeriah]

Satsujo stood still, the cool desert breeze lightly swaying her hair, but her mind was anything but calm. Her sharp eyes were fixed on the kunoichi beside her, Hariku, whose very presence exuded a deadly aura. Satsujo could sense it—the raw power, the lethal intent. Hariku was undoubtedly one of the strongest Magnetic Release users she had ever encountered. The sheer magnitude of her abilities was palpable, and it made Satsujo's fingers twitch, the weight of her twin blades a constant reminder of the battle ahead. As much as Satsujo respected Hariku's strength, she also knew that with such a force came the risk of things escalating quickly—too quickly for Satsujo's liking. Yet, despite the initial tension between them, Satsujo couldn't deny the potential for cooperation. She needed Hariku’s help, especially when faced with the insurmountable challenge of infiltrating the underwater base.

Her gaze faltered as she let out a sigh, her frustration evident. The idea of being chosen as Kazekage never sat well with her. She had never asked for the title, never craved the responsibility, but it was thrust upon her anyway. As Hariku mentioned the previous Kazekage, Shishio, and how he could shed light on the mystery surrounding their disappearance, Satsujo couldn’t help but interrupt with a sharp edge in her voice. "Trust me, that dimwit has nothing to do with this. Instead of assisting me, he became a political figurehead—a mascot to show how ‘powerful’ Sunagakure is," she spat bitterly, her tone laced with disgust.

The animosity she held for her former teammate was obvious, and it was more than just political frustration. Satsujo had always been a hands-on leader, someone who took action. Shishio, on the other hand, had succumbed to the politics of power, leaving the real work to fall on others’ shoulders. Satsujo clenched her fists, her hands subconsciously tightening around the hilts of her twin blades. Her eyes darkened as she continued, her voice quieter but filled with a fierce intensity. "There was once this shinobi of the old world, who could temporarily boost your strength through a curse mark, that could give you certain animalistic traits. A mad scientist, who wasn’t particularly born with exceptional shinobi abilities, reopened this research of the old one to one day use on himself."

Her voice trailed off as she recalled the horrors of that time. "There once banded rogue shinobi and orphans, who participated in their experiments. They were strong enough to take out a whole platoon of my men and even managed to destroy small neighboring villages. I was defeated by them," she paused, her face grimacing as the memory resurfaced, "but before they could kill me, all the members under the curse mark’s influence...their bodies' cells were destroyed." Satsujo’s eyes darkened as she stared at the ground, the weight of those lost lives pressing heavily on her shoulders. The air around her seemed to thicken with the emotion of that day—the day when she had failed, when she had seen the devastation unfold before her eyes. "That day, I didn’t know if I was spared by God or given a mission by God. While there was rumors that the scientist died, I couldn’t believe it until I saw with my own eyes, and until this day, I’ve been tracking him." Her voice was low now, almost a whisper. "This ends today."

The finality of her words hung in the air, a quiet determination in her stance. Satsujo's hands clenched tighter around her twin blades, her knuckles white with the intensity of her resolve. There was no turning back now. This mission, ten years in the making, would be the one to set things right, to make sure that the lives lost would not be in vain. Satsujo’s path was set, and she was ready to see it through, no matter the cost.

Location: Suna Peninsula
Posting Order: Satsujo -> Hariku
Post Time Limit (PTI): 3 Days
Skip Points: ll
​

 

[Yozu]

Hariku, Angel of Hell

Hariku listened in silence, letting Satsujo’s words settle between them like dust in the wind. The weight of them, the history behind them, the bitterness dripping from every syllable, painted a picture of someone who had long since abandoned the luxury of choice. Someone who had been fighting this battle alone for far too long.

Her purple eyes remained steady on Satsujo, watching the way her fists clenched, the way her entire body tensed as she relived the past. There was something raw about it, something that made Hariku feel as though she were standing on the edge of a storm, just waiting for it to break.

Finally, she exhaled. Slow. Measured. Her Iron Sand drifted lazily around her, the fine black particles catching the dimming desert light. There was no hostility in her movements, only an ever-present reminder of her power, coiled and waiting.

“You sound more like a soldier than a Kazekage, maybe they were wrong” Hariku remarked, her tone even, neither condescending nor sympathetic “More like someone who’s spent so long fighting a war that they don’t know what peace looks like anymore.”
Her voice was steady, but beneath it was something deeper, something knowing.

Hariku had seen this before, shinobi so consumed by their own missions, by their own sense of duty or revenge, that they forgot what it meant to live for themselves. She wondered if Satsujo even remembered what life was beyond this chase.

She took a single step forward, closing the distance between them slightly. The sand beneath her feet barely shifted. “You think I don’t understand? You think I don’t know what it’s like to chase a ghost for years, to hunt something that has already taken everything from you?”

Her purple eyes locked onto Satsujo’s, sharp and unwavering. “I was raised to be a weapon for my village. To be the perfect wielder of this.” She gestured slightly, and the Iron Sand shifted in the air, moving with effortless precision, waiting for her command. “And when I finally became strong enough, I realized that the people I was fighting for didn’t care. That no matter how many enemies I cut down, how many victories I won, it would never be enough.”

A pause stretched between them, the wind filling the space with its eerie hum.
Hariku exhaled “I don’t care about Shishio or what he did. I don’t care about Sunagakure’s politics.” Her voice was softer now, but no less resolute. “But I do care about you throwing your life away.”

She tilted her head slightly, her expression unreadable, though the faintest smirk ghosted across her lips. “You can talk about destiny and divine missions all you want, but I know what this really is. This is vengeance.”

The weight of her words pressed between them.

Hariku knew the fire that burned in Satsujo’s eyes because she had seen it before, had felt it before. The kind of fire that made people reckless, that drove them into battles they weren’t meant to return from, that was something she would not allow.
The desert wind howled, picking up loose grains of sand, swirling around them in a moment of uneasy silence. Then, Hariku’s voice cut through the air like a blade, smooth yet unyielding.

“If you want my help, say it plainly. If you want to go through with this, then you need to trust that I can help you see it through.”
The Iron Sand shifted around her, twisting through the air like serpents, forming sharp black needles in an instant.

“But if you’re planning to die chasing a ghost, then I’ll drag you back to the village myself, kicking and screaming.”

She met Satsujo’s gaze head-on, unwavering, waiting, not just for an answer, but for something more. For Satsujo to prove to her, here and now, that this wasn’t just a suicide mission. That there was something beyond vengeance driving her forward. That there was still a part of her that wasn’t just running toward death.

The silence between them stretched.

The wind whipped through the desert, lifting the sand in thin spirals that danced in the dimming light of the horizon. The tension between them was tangible, a silent battle waged through locked eyes and unspoken thoughts then, finally, Hariku sighed, rolling her shoulders slightly as if shaking off the weight of the moment. “If you’re not planning to die,” she continued, her voice softer this time, “then you better start acting like it.”
The Iron Sand around her shifted, retreating back into her body, flowing like liquid metal. The air grew still again, but the pressure in her gaze did not waver.

“I’ll help you,” Hariku finally said, her voice leaving no room for doubt. “But not because of the village, and not because I owe you anything.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. “I’ll help you because I want to see this mission through, and because you clearly won’t last much longer if you keep letting your past cloud your decisions.”

There was something almost teasing in her tone, though her words carried an undeniable truth.

Hariku took another step closer, now only an arm’s length from Satsujo. The space between them was tight, heavy with a silent understanding.

“But if you want my help, then you’re going to do this my way.”

Her voice was calm, yet firm.

“No reckless heroics. No half-baked plans. No throwing yourself into danger without thinking things through.”
She leaned in just slightly, her eyes glinting in the dying light. “Agreed?”

There was no challenge in her voice this time, no threat only a genuine demand for commitment, because Hariku had already decided, whether Satsujo liked it or not, she was not going to let her face this fight alone.

Location: Suna Peninsula
Posting Order: Satsujo -> Hariku
Post Time Limit (PTI): 3 Days
Skip Points: ll​

 

[Jeriah]

Satsujo stood there, the wind whipping around her, her fists still clenched tightly at her sides as Hariku’s words reverberated through her mind. The weight of it all was almost suffocating. For so long, she had carried the burden of vengeance, carrying the anger and bitterness of the past like an unrelenting storm inside her. Hariku had seen through it all in a moment—cutting through her deflections and defenses with a single sentence. “This is vengeance.”

The truth hit Satsujo harder than any physical blow she had ever received. She had been running, chasing ghosts from the past, and in doing so, she had been losing sight of who she was, what she was supposed to stand for. The Kazekage, the leader of Sunagakure, shouldn’t have been driven by hate, but it was only until moments ago that she was mandated to be Kazekage, a title that never even sounded right to her. Satsujo’s gaze never wavered from Hariku. She could see the conviction in the woman’s eyes, the same fire that burned within her own chest. Hariku had no ulterior motives, no hidden agenda. She simply wanted to help, but Satsujo had always believed she had to face everything alone.

Her throat tightened as she finally spoke, her voice low but firm. “You’re right. This... This isn’t about the village anymore, or about some duty I’ve been pretending to fulfill. It’s about revenge. It’s about making sure they pay for what they did to my men. To me.” She paused, her shoulders tightening with the familiar weight of her mission. “But I’ve lost so much along the way. I’ve lost sight of what really matters.” Her hands, still clenched into fists, slowly relaxed. “I’ve become what I despised in others. A puppet to my own rage." Satsujo took a deep breath, steadying herself, her resolve solidifying. The wind continued to swirl around them, pushing sand into the air, but for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel so alone. Hariku wasn’t just standing there as an ally; she was standing there as a reminder that there was still something worth fighting for.

“If you’re with me,” Satsujo said, her voice gaining strength, “then we do this together. But I won’t back down. Not now. Not ever.” She finally looked Hariku in the eye, her expression one of determination and clarity. “I’ve been running from my own shadows for too long. But I’ll face them. I’ll face whatever comes next.” The words were simple, but they were the truth. This wasn’t just about vengeance anymore—it was about saving herself from the depths of her own despair. She wasn’t going to keep running. Not from Hariku. Not from the ghosts.

With one final, steady exhale, Satsujo took a step forward, her twin blades at her side, and finally, for the first time in years, she felt like she could stand tall once more. “Let’s do this. Together.”

Location: Suna Peninsula
Posting Order: Satsujo -> Hariku
Post Time Limit (PTI): 3 Days
Skip Points: ll​

 

[Yozu]

Hariku, Angel of Hell

Hariku stood motionless, her eyes unwavering, as the wind continued to lash at them. Each gust carried the weight of the desert’s timeless vastness, but within the silence between them, Hariku felt something shift. The transformation in Satsujo was subtle, but it wasn’t lost on Hariku, the way her shoulders had slackened, the tension in her body slowly unwinding. The tightly clenched fists that had once signified her resolve, the resolute grip on her mission, were now relaxing as though something inside her had cracked, letting in a breath of new air.

Hariku knew that she had witnessed a moment of profound change, the slow shedding of the old skin Satsujo had been wearing for so long, weighed down by rage and grief. Hariku had sensed it was coming, but seeing it unfold was different, it was raw, it was real.

The air seemed to hold its breath, suspended in the delicate balance of transition. Hariku took a single, slow step forward, her footfall gentle on the shifting sand, a soft crunch barely breaking the tense stillness. As she closed the distance between them, she watched Satsujo, whose gaze was firmly planted on the horizon, as if still sorting through the ruins of the past.

This time, Hariku’s expression softened, just a fraction, something rare for her, something she only offered in moments like these. She was accustomed to standing as a pillar of strength, but now she could feel the weight of the moment, the delicate unspoken understanding between them. She wasn’t just the Iron Sand user, the warrior, the tool of her village. She was a witness to this transformation, this rebirth.

"Good," Hariku said, her voice quiet, but firm, carrying a certain approval in it. “You’ve been carrying that weight for too long. But you don’t have to carry it alone.” The words were gentle, yet resolute, as if reaching out to tether Satsujo to something beyond her own struggle. Hariku had fought her own battles with isolation, and had carried the crushing weight of destiny on her shoulders. And for the first time, she realized, she wasn’t just talking about Satsujo’s burden anymore. She was acknowledging her own.

She stepped a little closer, her presence unwavering, like the anchor to a ship caught in a storm. Her eyes, purple and sharp, focused on Satsujo with an intensity that pierced the air between them. "I’ve seen this before. People driven by the past, by revenge, until it becomes all-consuming. But you’re not there yet. And I won’t let you get there." Her words were laced with something deeper now, something protective, a promise to keep Satsujo grounded, even if the weight of her past threatened to drown her.

Satsujo didn’t look away, but Hariku could feel the tension in the air shift. It wasn’t quite comfort, but it was close, closer than she had expected. Hariku’s gaze softened ever so slightly, the mask of stern resolve slipping just enough to let sincerity through.

“We’re in this together now,” Hariku continued, her voice steady, though her words carried an undercurrent of something personal. “And I’m not walking away. Not until this is over, and not until you’ve found something worth living for on the other side.”

The Iron Sand swirled around her like an extension of herself, moving with subtle intention, winding through the air like a living thing. It was a reminder of the power she wielded, the control she held over the elements that could become both shield and sword. Yet, as she shifted, it was not a weapon on display, it was a promise. Her readiness was there, but her intent was clear: she was not here to fight for victory alone.

“Don’t mistake this for charity,” Hariku added, her tone lightening, though still underscored with resolve. “I’m doing this because I believe in this mission. And because you’re damn good at what you do.” She let a smirk flicker across her lips, something teasing, almost playful, as though acknowledging the fire that still burned in Satsujo. The same fire that had driven her to the edge of this very moment.
But the smirk was short-lived. Hariku’s expression darkened just a fraction as her eyes narrowed, sharpening once again. “But, just so we’re clear,” she said, the playful edge gone from her voice now, replaced by a commanding presence, “no more running headlong into danger without a plan. I’m not babysitting you.”

She crossed her arms, her posture becoming even more composed, but the edge of her smirk remained, a reminder of the unspoken understanding between them. “We’re in this together, but that doesn’t mean I’ll let you sacrifice yourself without a damn good reason.” Her words were sharp, yet not unkind. She wasn’t trying to dominate the situation, but to steer it in a direction where they both had something to gain, something more than just an escape from the past.

There was a pause, a breath of stillness as the two women stood, their gazes locking. The desert winds howled around them, but in that silence, Hariku’s focus never wavered. There was something profound in this moment, an understanding forged not in words, but in shared purpose.

Hariku’s eyes shifted toward the horizon, the sands stretching endlessly before them, an expanse full of both possibility and danger. The weight of the journey ahead seemed to settle on her shoulders, but she didn’t flinch. There was no doubt now. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.

“Now, let’s finish this,” she said softly, her voice steady, the words carrying the resolve of someone who had already made the decision. Her Iron Sand shifted again, subtly, almost imperceptibly, but ready to move at her command. The wind tugged at her hair, and the desolate landscape stretched before them, but there was a calm now, a silent energy that spoke of the journey to come.

Satsujo wasn’t alone anymore. And neither was Hariku. They would walk this path side by side, each carrying their burdens, each finding a way forward. The tension that had once hung between them now transformed into something quieter, more focused. They weren’t just allies, they were partners in this.

"Together," Hariku added, her voice carrying the weight of everything they had just agreed upon. “Let’s do this.”

With that final, resolute declaration, Hariku stepped forward, and together, they began the next chapter of their mission, whatever it might hold.

Location: Suna Peninsula
Posting Order: Satsujo -> Hariku
Post Time Limit (PTI): 3 Days
Skip Points: ll​

 

[Mellow]

Oboro's Boat Travel Soundtrack

The air was still, the desert heat blanketing Sunagakure in its usual dry warmth as Oboro sat outside his home, arms crossed behind his head, eyes half-lidded in a rare moment of peace. The wind kicked up small dust clouds around him, the sound of distant voices and the occasional clang of metal from blacksmiths working on new weaponry filling the background. It was a quiet day, a moment of stillness in a shinobi’s ever-busy life, however, that stillness was short-lived. A firm but hurried set of footsteps crunched against the sand, drawing Oboro’s attention. His eyes shifted lazily towards the approaching figure, recognizing the man immediately—Special Jōnin Kaito, a hardened shinobi with a sharp gaze and an even sharper sense of urgency. The moment their eyes met, Oboro knew something was off. Kaito was rarely the type to rush anywhere unless it was serious.
​

Kaito: Oboro, Hariku hasn’t returned from her mission. No word, no message—nothing. I need you to go out and find her to make sure everything is alright. She should be near the Sand Peninsula, You’re one of the fastest we have, and you were the first person I thought of for this.​

Oboro remained silent for a moment, his relaxed demeanor not betraying his thoughts. But his mind was already at work. Hariku was a highly capable kunoichi, one who wouldn't just vanish without cause. Though eventually, he exhaled and shifted in his spot before finally pushing himself up with a stretch. His fingers laced behind his head as he rolled his shoulders, processing the information. It wasn’t just concern for Hariku that piqued his interest—it was the mystery of why she was delayed. Something about the unknown factor made his mind itch.
​

Oboro: Alright then, I’ll go. If she’s taking this long, then something’s keeping her. I’ll see what’s going on but i'm sure she's fine.​

Without another word, Oboro stepped past Kaito, out of his yard, and directly toward the docking area. He didn’t need to prepare; everything he needed was already on him. His puppets, his tools, his skills—they were all part of him, ready at a moment’s notice. The docking area was alive with activity, various shinobi and merchants preparing sand ships for transport across the endless dunes. Oboro’s presence alone was enough to turn a few heads, though most quickly returned to their tasks. He made his way toward the same crew from before—the four seasoned sailors who had accompanied him on his last venture. The shipmaster, a burly young man with a sun-scorched face and a perpetual scowl, raised an eyebrow as Oboro approached.
​

Cordel (Sailor): Back already? Didn’t get enough of the dunes last time?​

Oboro: Change of plans. We’re heading to the Sand Peninsula this time, we need to get there as fast as possible..​

Justina (Sailor): You heard him. Prepare the sails! We’re pushing this thing fast!​

The team moved with practiced efficiency, untying the ship and adjusting the sails as the chakra-etched hull began to hum with energy. Oboro stepped onto the deck, his eyes set on the endless horizon of golden sands stretching out before them. He made his way to the front of the ship, standing at the very nose, his hands tucked into his pockets as the wind began to pick up. The four sailors positioned themselves at each corner of the ship, their hands weaving through a series of hand seals.
​

All Sailors: Wind Release: Gale Propulsion!​

Instantly, a powerful burst of wind struck the sails, inflating them. The ship lurched forward, the wooden frame creaking from the sudden force as it rocketed across the dunes at near breakneck speeds. Sand whipped violently around them, but Oboro remained still, his long red hair billowing behind him as his sharp eyes focused on the horizon. The speed was exhilarating, but he barely paid it any mind. If something was waiting at the Sand Peninsula—whether it was trouble, a message, or something else entirely, he would find out soon enough. In the end, he hoped that Hariku was safe and she was just taking her time.

Location: Suna Peninsula
Posting Order: Oboro → ???
Post Time Limit (PTI): 3 Days
Skip Points: ll​

 

[Jeriah]

Satsujo took a deep breath, the desert air prickling her skin as it ruffled through her hair. Hariku’s words were like a rope being thrown across a gap, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Satsujo felt the slightest tug, a faint sense of hope pulling her toward something other than vengeance. She didn’t move at first, her gaze fixed on the horizon, the endless stretch of sand mirroring the weight that had settled in her chest over the years. The anger, the grief, it was all so consuming that she often wondered if there was anything left for her beyond it. Yet here was Hariku, steady and resolute, offering something different—an opportunity to lay down the burden, if only for a moment.

Satsujo’s lips curved ever so slightly into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. Her eyes, still hard with the scars of the past, flickered toward Hariku. She could sense the sincerity in her tone, the protective instinct that Hariku had wrapped herself in. She had fought against the same fire, the same battle within her heart, the one that pushed her toward her end rather than a new beginning. Satsujo could see it in Hariku’s eyes—the same fire, the same unspoken understanding.

She let out a quiet laugh, the sound raspy with the weight of her years in the desert. “You’re right,” Satsujo said, her voice thick with the remnants of old wounds. “I’ve been carrying this weight for so long, I almost forgot what it feels like to put it down.” Her hands, which had remained rigid at her sides, slowly unclenched, though the tremble in her fingers still remained. She wasn’t used to letting go of control. She wasn’t used to trusting someone else with her burdens. But Hariku’s words, her presence—it was a lifeline. And for the first time in ages, Satsujo felt the possibility of something more than just pain and rage.

She turned to face Hariku fully now, her eyes locking with hers, seeing the strength there, but also something softer, something more vulnerable. “I’m not foolish enough to believe I can do this alone,” Satsujo continued, her tone steadying as she spoke. “And you’ve shown me enough to know that I don’t have to.” Her voice dropped just slightly, a hint of rawness creeping through. “But don’t think for a second that this isn’t a fight for my life. I’ve lost enough to the past. I’m not going to lose to it again.”

Satsujo took a step closer to Hariku, her gaze intense, though it wasn’t just about the mission anymore. She wasn’t sure exactly what had shifted, but the weight on her shoulders felt a little less oppressive, and she allowed herself to admit that the weight wasn’t all hers to bear. Hariku was right—there was more to this than vengeance. The world was far too large to collapse into a singular purpose, no matter how much it consumed her.

Her voice was firmer now, tinged with a resolve that had long since been buried. “I won’t let you down. I won’t let myself down.” She paused, meeting Hariku’s gaze with quiet understanding. “But,” she added with a slight, wry smirk, “no promises about not charging headlong into danger.” The faintest edge of humor found its way into her voice, though the gravity of her words remained clear. “If I’m going to die,” she said, “it’s going to be fighting. Not running away.”

Satsujo stepped back, her expression resolute. “We don’t need to just survive this,” she continued, “We need to take control. We’re both good at what we do—let’s make sure the world remembers that.” The smirk faded, replaced by something more serious, more determined. She extended a hand, not as a gesture of thanks, but as an acknowledgment of the path ahead. “Together, then.”

Hariku’s words had softened her resolve, not broken it, and that was enough to bring her to the next step. This fight, this war, it was far from over—but now she knew, for the first time in a long while, that she didn’t have to face it alone. Here she focused even more awaiting for an opportunity as she could feel a rush in adrenaline, knowing that she and Hariku would be victorious once the figured out the isolated island secrets.

Location: Suna Peninsula
Posting Order: Satsujo -> Hariku
Post Time Limit (PTI): 3 Days
Skip Points: ll​

 

[Baldhead]

Under the scorching sun of an endless desert, a man slowly opens his eyes. Half-buried beneath the sand, he places his hands beside him and pushes himself upright. As grains of sand fall from his body, his tired eyes begin to scan the horizon. His lips are dry and cracked from dehydration, and his cheeks are slightly sunken. He has no memory of how long he’s been here or how he got here at all. Scattered around him, and stretching far into the distance, lie the bodies of shinobi dressed in Sunagakure uniforms. Their fallen forms lead in a single direction, one he begins to follow. His steps are heavy, almost limping, as fragmented memories return like flashes of a dream. Laughter with friends. A celebration among villagers. A stranger offering him a drink, then completely darkness.

Bits and pieces resurface as he goes on being dragged across the sand, a faceless figure pulling him along, a battle breaking out, shinobi clashing and collapsing. Then, a violent sandstorm... and after that, only black. The memories end, and he collapses to his knees, coughing violently. The air is dry and harsh. Behind him lies the last of the fallen shinobi. Ahead, in the distance, a shimmer catches his eye. A spring? Or just another illusion brought on by the heat?

“Please… let it be real. Don’t let my eyes deceive me…”

He forces himself to stand and stumbles toward the vision. As he draws closer, relief floods through him. Water. Actual water. Fish swim beneath the surface, and animals drink peacefully on the far side. He leans forward and catches his reflection. Silver eyes, hair longer than he remembered, and a body in a pitiful state.

Shocked by his appearance, he lets out a deep breath, then suddenly starts to laugh. The animals look up, startled by the sound. His laughter shifts from calm to wild before he plunges his face into the water. The silence that follows stretches for moments, though it feels like minutes. Then he rises again, gasping, and forms a bowl with his hands to drink. Afterward, his eyes see a nearby tree, offering him some shade and protection from the sun.

“I don’t know how I ended up here… or who that person was... but I’m alive.”


He said to himself as his hands instinctively check his body. To his surprise, he still has his scrolls, kunai, and shuriken. His kidnapper hadn’t even bothered to disarm him. Were they foolish? Or simply arrogant, confident the kidnapping would go smoothly? Either way, he feels lucky to have survived. Hours pass, the sun sets, and the moon rises. He remains near the water. The animals have gone, but a bloodstain remains where one once stood. That animal became his meal. Now, beside a small fire, he roasts the meat skewered on a tree branch and eats in silence.

“I guess this vacation has to end eventually.”

He says softly.

“I trust the people back home… but I can’t help but worry. Is Sunagakure still safe…?”

Now nourished and rehydrated, he stands and bows toward the desert, offering gratitude for the water and food. Then, biting his thumb, he swiftly weaves several hand signs before pressing his palm into the sand. Symbols pulse outward from his hand. In a burst of smoke and light, a massive scorpion emerges beside the spring.

“My friend… you’ve grown,”

He says, placing his hand on the beast’s armored head. The scorpion lets out a powerful, echoing cry, perhaps one of joy. The man smiles and leaps onto its back.

“Time to go home… to Sunagakure.”

With that, the scorpion begins its journey. Through a desert that swallows most travelers whole, it carries him across its familiar sands—for this land is nothing less than its home.


The Return to Sunagakure

As the scorpion climbs over a hill of sand, the shimmering outline of a familiar stronghold emerges in the distance, Sunagakure. Its sturdy walls still stand proud, the rivers that flow through it still flow beneath the desert sun, and its buildings now stand tall. The once-humble village has evolved, grown into something closer to a city. A place reborn and far ahead, people walk through its gates, and a smile spreads across his lips.

"I guess I can't have been gone too long."

With that, he rises to his feet and leaps onto the scorpion's tail. As it had done many times before, the tail coils, lowers, and suddenly tightens and then launches him like a slingshot through the sky. The wind roars in his ears as he's flung at incredible speed toward the village, soaring high above the desert below. Behind him, the scorpion turns and silently vanishes back into the vast sea of sand.

His silhouette cuts through the sky, arms swept behind him. From below, anyone who looked up would see what could only be described as a blur, a man propelled by fate itself. His silver eyes scan the world beneath him, merchants, children, shinobi. Fleeting glimpses of life as they pass beneath him in seconds. When gravity begins to pull him downward, he extends both hands forward. A faint blue glow pulses at his fingertips.

Ten shimmering threads of chakra burst from his hands, each one slicing through the air like lightning. Because they move with him and now even faster, they don’t drag behind but stay perfectly in sync. With minimal flicks of his fingers, he latches them to the sides of buildings around the village. And then, he swings himself. Thread to thread, building to building, he swings through the village in a wide, semicircular motion, each arc more fluid and controlled than the last. These threads don’t just support his weight but also the additional force that happens to alter the direction of his motion as well. Each swing builds momentum, until the final one sends him soaring upward once more.

He lands softly, feet touching down on the roof of a building near the village center. Standing tall, he gazes out across the place he once called home. It’s changed, yes—but it’s strong, thriving, and free. After several quiet minutes, he kneels down and pulls out a kunai. With practiced hands, he trims his grown-out hair back to its former length. The motion is calm, almost ceremonial. While the strands fall and the wind carries them away, he thinks to himself:

“I’m back..the puppet master is back home”

Location: Desert → Sunagakure
Posting Order: Shishiō-> ???
Post Time Limit (PTI): 3 Days
Skip Points: ll

​

 

[Mellow]

Oboro's Boat Travel Soundtrack

The ship sliced through the golden dunes like a blade through silk, its sails swollen with chakra-infused wind as it carved a fast path across the Great Sand District. The rhythmic roar of the wind spell pulsing through the sails was the only sound that accompanied them, save for the occasional groan of the ship’s wooden frame reacting to the blistering speed. At the very front of the vessel, Oboro stood on the nose of the ship, his hair snapping violently in the hot desert wind while it was also pulled back into a ponytail from earlier still holding fast despite the pressure. His posture was still, but his eyes were sharp, gazing out toward the horizon with a silent intensity. The wind rushed past him, and for once, it wasn’t enough to drown out the thoughts creeping in.
​

Oboro: Hariku...​

He narrowed his eyes as they sailed further, his expression unreadable, but internally a tension was building. She should’ve returned by now. No sign. No update. It wasn’t like her to delay without reason. Though he hadn’t said much, Oboro trusted Hariku—enough to know something was off. Still, part of him pushed the worry aside, she’s was probably just taking her time. Maybe she got distracted, or the mission got extended. He tried to convince himself—but that creeping sense of unease refused to leave. Then— His eyes sharpened. Far ahead, nestled against the shimmering haze of heat waves and rolling dunes—two figures. At first, indistinct shapes. But as the ship glided a bit closer, his keen vision picked out the silhouettes more clearly. One was unknown to him. A woman—with strange appendages fit for the sand, though he's never seen her before. But the other— Was definitely Hariku. A breath of relief escaped his lips, but his gaze didn’t soften. His mind went immediately back into a tactical state. He raised a hand and signaled behind him, calling out loud enough for the crew to hear over the wind.
​

Oboro: Slow us down—now.​

The sailors responded instantly, releasing their jutsu and shifting the sail tension. The great gusts of chakra-infused wind dropped off like a switch had been flipped, and the sand ship began to slow, carving deep ridges into the dunes as it slid to a smoother pace. Oboro waited—patiently, calculating the precise moment. The ship hadn’t even come to a full stop before he bent his knees and leapt, chakra reinforcing his feet as he flipped through the air with precision and ease, landing in the sand with barely a sound, the trailing wind of his jump stirring a veil of dust in his wake. He landed just beside Hariku, and his feet firmly planted in the hot sand, and immediately locking his eyes on her with concern.
​

Oboro: Are you alright? You had everybody worried something went wrong with your mission, figured you'd got swallowed up by a sand wyrm. So tell me, what happened?​

Despite the joke at the end, there was a weight behind his words. One only someone like Hariku—someone who truly knew Oboro—would recognize. Behind his dry tone was a very real concern. One he’d rather bury under sarcasm than admit outright.

Location: Suna Peninsula
Posting Order: Satsujo → Hariku → Oboro
Post Time Limit (PTI): 3 Days
Skip Points: ll​