A morning breeze gently blew in from the East, a breath of cool air soothing the desert, the Sun piercing some light clouds off in the distance, having just broken the horizon, and gazed upon the barren lands of Kaze no Kuni. Along these shifting sands, a trail of footprints crept, following the rising sun to the East, facing the breeze head on. The winds of Kaze no Kuni would erase these tracks only a few minutes after the wanderer leaving them passed.
The one leaving the tracks continued on in a straight line, never deviating, not in a rush, but keeping a steady pace. The footprints lead to a pair of Desert Willow Geta, black in color, the lift keeping the wanderer’s feet from contacting the sand as slowly it’s temperature rose. A long and tattered cloak obscured most of the figure’s features, but as the wind kissed the light fabric, it’d tug and lift at the breeze’s will, and reveal what some could see as a familiar outfit...A blackened silverweed outfit, and crossing the man’s back--a blade as deadly as its wielder, Sabaku no Kaiminari. The former Kazekage, Elite Jounin from Sunagakure, the Desert Rogue, Azuma Asakaze...the wind gusting enough to rip the cloak’s hood from his head, revealing much longer hair, and even a beard on the 29 year old Shinobi. A stoic expression, nigh void of all emotion, was painted on the broken mask of Azuma’s face. Scars like cracks. His mismatched hues pierced the horizon, every step taken steady and deliberate, a man fallen from former grace, he would push forward.
Once the ruler of a nation, now a simple rogue, wandering, protecting caravans from a distance, taking out random gangs of bandits, a man whose presence had only become that of a ghost...Rumored, tales of sightings, a living legend of the desert, who’d abandoned his former life and became true shadow, a force of the shifting sands, presence felt but never seen. This is what had become of the man who once swore his life to Sunagakure...betrayed by former loves, lost faith in the village he called home for so long, wounds deeper than any kunai or sword could ever cut.
These vast sands had been his new home for the past year...but now, he moved on. Azuma could no longer handle his own mental torment. His guilt. His self loathing. He once loved these lands...now they only reminded him of his failings of the past few years. The rise, and the fall. The betrayal. A man who’d loved, and lost. A man who’d tried to fly high, only to find his wings melting. He needed to escape...but he couldn’t escape it all. Even longing for relief from his torment, he couldn’t...he was a man of honor, even in this broken state. He had to do what he could, protect others, be a force of good in the world...maybe to him it was atoning for his past mistakes.
With every steady step, the man kept on his new path…and with every step, he distanced himself from these lands...Part of him wanted to go back. Part of him wanted to try again. But he’d been broken beyond repair...Azuma could not be fixed. He could never return to his old life...as the man walked Eastward, he was only but a ghost, a shell of a man once filled with life, love, and dedication, now torn and jaded, only breathing to continue his ‘atonement’. Today...Azuma Asakaze was no more, a man who’d died a year ago...leaving only his shadow, the Desert Rogue.
[Retirement post]
The one leaving the tracks continued on in a straight line, never deviating, not in a rush, but keeping a steady pace. The footprints lead to a pair of Desert Willow Geta, black in color, the lift keeping the wanderer’s feet from contacting the sand as slowly it’s temperature rose. A long and tattered cloak obscured most of the figure’s features, but as the wind kissed the light fabric, it’d tug and lift at the breeze’s will, and reveal what some could see as a familiar outfit...A blackened silverweed outfit, and crossing the man’s back--a blade as deadly as its wielder, Sabaku no Kaiminari. The former Kazekage, Elite Jounin from Sunagakure, the Desert Rogue, Azuma Asakaze...the wind gusting enough to rip the cloak’s hood from his head, revealing much longer hair, and even a beard on the 29 year old Shinobi. A stoic expression, nigh void of all emotion, was painted on the broken mask of Azuma’s face. Scars like cracks. His mismatched hues pierced the horizon, every step taken steady and deliberate, a man fallen from former grace, he would push forward.
Once the ruler of a nation, now a simple rogue, wandering, protecting caravans from a distance, taking out random gangs of bandits, a man whose presence had only become that of a ghost...Rumored, tales of sightings, a living legend of the desert, who’d abandoned his former life and became true shadow, a force of the shifting sands, presence felt but never seen. This is what had become of the man who once swore his life to Sunagakure...betrayed by former loves, lost faith in the village he called home for so long, wounds deeper than any kunai or sword could ever cut.
These vast sands had been his new home for the past year...but now, he moved on. Azuma could no longer handle his own mental torment. His guilt. His self loathing. He once loved these lands...now they only reminded him of his failings of the past few years. The rise, and the fall. The betrayal. A man who’d loved, and lost. A man who’d tried to fly high, only to find his wings melting. He needed to escape...but he couldn’t escape it all. Even longing for relief from his torment, he couldn’t...he was a man of honor, even in this broken state. He had to do what he could, protect others, be a force of good in the world...maybe to him it was atoning for his past mistakes.
With every steady step, the man kept on his new path…and with every step, he distanced himself from these lands...Part of him wanted to go back. Part of him wanted to try again. But he’d been broken beyond repair...Azuma could not be fixed. He could never return to his old life...as the man walked Eastward, he was only but a ghost, a shell of a man once filled with life, love, and dedication, now torn and jaded, only breathing to continue his ‘atonement’. Today...Azuma Asakaze was no more, a man who’d died a year ago...leaving only his shadow, the Desert Rogue.
[Retirement post]
