Somewhere in a long forgotten spot off the border of what was once Konoha there stand two statues lost to time. They tower over the spilling hills and tipping rivers, each with one arm outstretched in a defiance that mimics the natural impression of the cliff side they were carved into. Their faces are worn from the wind and rain, but their expressions remain unimpressed by even the most recent destruction.
They have seen the beginning and the end, witnessed the carnage and compromise of untold ages, presided over the birth and death of legends.
And here they waited.
Just as he remembered them.
A bandaged arm drifted lazily out of it's heavy tan shroud, the hand attached grazing the young refugee's hairline and brushing back some of his unkempt blue locks. It was a quiet night, the stars overhead glazing the horizon behind him in a way that seemed foreboding when compared to the heavy blanket of gray that hovered perpetually in the distance. How one storm cell could sit so plainly against the drifting winds from the east was impossible to say, but it didn't take a genius to tell that the effect was no natural occurrence.
Takayama removed his sunglasses, sweeping the rest of his hair back cautiously as he did so. No sudden movements. After all these years he wondered if his father would even remember the promise he made to meet back in this place.
Somehow more likely scenarios had refused to register in his mind up to this point, but as he squinted his eyes and made out the distant lights of Leaf City shimmering in the darkness ahead, he was forced to acknowledge the possibility that the unthinkable had happened.
Setting up camp was a slow and nostalgic process, collecting bits of fallen timber and arranging them in a teepee over some crumpled newspaper he had acquired at the port outlying Tsuchigakure before striking a match and letting the tinder catch flame. ANBU san had been kind enough to pack him a few meal rations, which was tonight's saving grace since he hadn't seen a single thing worth hunting once he had stepped foot in the country. Eventually he got the response he was hoping for, just not the voice he had hoped to hear it from.
"Uhhh... Heya..."
Taka looked up from the eddy he had swirled into his disturbingly burnt coffee, cold gray eyes only glimpsing the speaker for a second before glancing over his shoulder at the valley behind him.
"Yoh~"
It was a boy, barely old enough to be considered man at least, sporting an overloaded backpack and a pristine button up shirt with some company kanji branded on the lapel. His hair was a bright yellow, even in the dim of night, and his blue eyes reflected the warmth of Taka's small campfire wantingly. They were left in silence for a moment, the boy clearly not prepared for the brevity of the response he had gotten.
"... Uhh, I-I'm an associate with Yamato's clothing line out of southern fire country and I'm kinda sorta-"
"Sit."
Takayama had already started pouring another hot cup of his upsetting coffee into an extra tin mug he had left sitting out next to him for no obvious reason. The boy's expression suggested that he wasn't sure if he should be grateful or suspicious, but he obeyed all the same and seemed to decide after a few moments of warmth that the risk was worth it.
"Thanks, I really appreciate it..." The boy had said it with a smile until he had tasted the offered cup of coffee, after which he blanked out for a moment or two and may have twitched. Takayama wasn't sure, the brunt of his focus had gone to his ears so he could feign staring at the campfire without seeming too aware. "... How long have you been sitting here? The Daimyo's been chasing off most people, even the merchants. They only let anything in and out of the city through the caravans, that's why I'm still out here."
"Three hours, forty-six minutes... And by the look of the freshness of your shirt compared to those old straps of leather on your feet, I'd say you're not just strolling through."
"I-Uh.. W-what d'ya mean?"
"Maybe it would be better if I asked your friend by the rocks over there."
The silence grew tense, only the snap and pop of the mild campfire between them left to camouflage the now apparent sound of shuffling and falling pebbles at the cliff's edge. The boy simply stared.
"...You're Zenzo's kid, aren't you?"
[Entering Fire Country ~ Topic Entered and Left]
They have seen the beginning and the end, witnessed the carnage and compromise of untold ages, presided over the birth and death of legends.
And here they waited.
Just as he remembered them.
A bandaged arm drifted lazily out of it's heavy tan shroud, the hand attached grazing the young refugee's hairline and brushing back some of his unkempt blue locks. It was a quiet night, the stars overhead glazing the horizon behind him in a way that seemed foreboding when compared to the heavy blanket of gray that hovered perpetually in the distance. How one storm cell could sit so plainly against the drifting winds from the east was impossible to say, but it didn't take a genius to tell that the effect was no natural occurrence.
Takayama removed his sunglasses, sweeping the rest of his hair back cautiously as he did so. No sudden movements. After all these years he wondered if his father would even remember the promise he made to meet back in this place.
Somehow more likely scenarios had refused to register in his mind up to this point, but as he squinted his eyes and made out the distant lights of Leaf City shimmering in the darkness ahead, he was forced to acknowledge the possibility that the unthinkable had happened.
Setting up camp was a slow and nostalgic process, collecting bits of fallen timber and arranging them in a teepee over some crumpled newspaper he had acquired at the port outlying Tsuchigakure before striking a match and letting the tinder catch flame. ANBU san had been kind enough to pack him a few meal rations, which was tonight's saving grace since he hadn't seen a single thing worth hunting once he had stepped foot in the country. Eventually he got the response he was hoping for, just not the voice he had hoped to hear it from.
"Uhhh... Heya..."
Taka looked up from the eddy he had swirled into his disturbingly burnt coffee, cold gray eyes only glimpsing the speaker for a second before glancing over his shoulder at the valley behind him.
"Yoh~"
It was a boy, barely old enough to be considered man at least, sporting an overloaded backpack and a pristine button up shirt with some company kanji branded on the lapel. His hair was a bright yellow, even in the dim of night, and his blue eyes reflected the warmth of Taka's small campfire wantingly. They were left in silence for a moment, the boy clearly not prepared for the brevity of the response he had gotten.
"... Uhh, I-I'm an associate with Yamato's clothing line out of southern fire country and I'm kinda sorta-"
"Sit."
Takayama had already started pouring another hot cup of his upsetting coffee into an extra tin mug he had left sitting out next to him for no obvious reason. The boy's expression suggested that he wasn't sure if he should be grateful or suspicious, but he obeyed all the same and seemed to decide after a few moments of warmth that the risk was worth it.
"Thanks, I really appreciate it..." The boy had said it with a smile until he had tasted the offered cup of coffee, after which he blanked out for a moment or two and may have twitched. Takayama wasn't sure, the brunt of his focus had gone to his ears so he could feign staring at the campfire without seeming too aware. "... How long have you been sitting here? The Daimyo's been chasing off most people, even the merchants. They only let anything in and out of the city through the caravans, that's why I'm still out here."
"Three hours, forty-six minutes... And by the look of the freshness of your shirt compared to those old straps of leather on your feet, I'd say you're not just strolling through."
"I-Uh.. W-what d'ya mean?"
"Maybe it would be better if I asked your friend by the rocks over there."
The silence grew tense, only the snap and pop of the mild campfire between them left to camouflage the now apparent sound of shuffling and falling pebbles at the cliff's edge. The boy simply stared.
"...You're Zenzo's kid, aren't you?"
[Entering Fire Country ~ Topic Entered and Left]