Sunagakure, the village hidden in the sands. As one might expect of the desert village, there was no relief from the sun, clouds a rare sight and especially non-existent today. To tourists, this would be unbearable, sweltering. But to the natives, the people who lived here, this was home. Life at its finest. Perhaps if someone was uncomfortable with the heat, they could hide in the shadow of buildings, but otherwise, the only relief was the breeze which seemed perpetually to shift sands throughout the streets. Surprisingly busy streets, the midday crowds and rush not being hindered by the sun as groups of people walked among buildings, to and from wooden stalls that displayed independence via an array of multi coloured banisters and shelters of wool and silk. The beiges of sand and sandstone blended and contrasted starkly to the vibrant hues of fabric, along with the brown and maroon of the wood. A rather aesthetically pleasing sight, at least to anyone not used to it.

Here, walking among the crowds, an androgynous figure clad in equally beige attire traversed in and out of the crowds. Their hair a distinct mess of silver, neither long nor short, clothing rather odd on the left side, yet concealed by cloth on the right at both the arm and leg. The Sunagakure forehead protector found itself tied to this individuals left arm, metal plate covering their elbow and done up like a little bow. In their right hand a long, wooden stick was upright, a little cream ribbon tied near the bottom of this staff, while deep blue eyes scanned about almost erratically. This strange person was Chiaki of the Fukitsuna, and today they felt like browsing the different wares displayed by upstarting shop keepers.

Chiaki looked to the left and right, walking in an almost zig zag pattern among the crowds to go from stand to stand, perusing the many varieties of fabrics, foods and jewels shown on display. Some stalls seemed well priced, interesting, and overall quite professional, while others, either shady or new in the business, were less so to this standard. Not that Chiaki was one to make a comment on such a thing, just continuing on their walk. To their minor dismay, very few stalls seemed to sell copies of books. Even fewer having copies of action books, the most common genre’s seeming to be romance or biography. The non-binary ninja let out a sigh. How boring. They continued their search, dodging and weaving through the crowds rather nonchalantly, as if the crowds may as well not be there, just immobile objects to avoid knocking in to. But one can only avoid knocking into people for so long, especially when you’re deaf in a crowded location. As their staff slipped beneath the loose sands, Chiaki stumbled forwards, knocking face first directly into a stranger. Who could this stranger be? Whoever they were, today was probably not their lucky day. Or maybe it was. Who knows?

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