The Night Patrol [Vergil]

Chirp chirp . . . Chirp chirp . . . Chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp . . . Chirp chirp . . . Chirp chirp . . . Chirp chirp chirp chirp chirp. The crickets serenade progressed endlessly. Two, two, five . . . Two, two five. It was to this rhythm that the Tsuchikage walked atop the wall. Each step reverberated through the stones, renewing his knowledge of his own position. The chirps echoed out from either side, allowing Kizuato to stay in the center of the long path.

A sudden breeze tousled Kizuato's hair, and he stopped for a moment to enjoy the crisp feeling. He turned his head to gaze in the direction he knew was Iwagakure. But there was nothing. As always, Kizuato saw absolutely nothing. It was empty; neither dark nor light, neither here nor there. But what Kizuato did not see, he could certainly hear, smell, and feel. The sound of families closing their shutters in preparation for the night. The smell of the Doriku Steak House's excellent barbecue. The feeling of footsteps far down the wall as Jounin patrolled the village border.

It was all so familiar.

Nothing ever seemed to change in Iwagakure. As always, the clinking of a hammer tempering a steel blade could be heard from the smithy on the other side of the village. The same smells and sounds and feelings came from Iwagakure as always. Kizuato was certain that even the sights were the same; the only difference was that he could no longer see them. Kizuato sometimes missed the dull, earthy colors of Iwa. It had been so long, he could barely remember what brown was like, or gray, or any other color.

Turning around again, the Tsuchikage began once more to walk along the road, allowing the cricket's chirping to lead him. A few times, people would walk past him. Kizuato would sense them coming through the sound of their footsteps or the vibrations in the ground, and he would step a short distance to the side. "Greetings, Tsuchikage-sama." "Good afternoon, Kizukage." "How are you tonight, sir?" Occasionally, Kizuato would give a short, simple answer, but the questions and answers were all out of respect and loyalty, none of any real emotion or closeness. His people gave him due respect, and in return he gave them leadership and guidance. There was no friendship to be found in the relationship between the Tsuchikage and his village. He was their leader, not their friend.

At one point, the wall expanded slightly as Kizuato came upon a tower built into the mighty stone walls. He could tell because the wind was blocked, and his footsteps created echoes. But he didn't need those things; Kizuato knew the entire city by footstep alone. He went to the window of the tower and leaned out, gazing at the land before him despite the fact that it was invisible to his eyes. "Soon enough . . . Our border is out there . . . And soon enough it will stretch further. We'll engulf the smaller villages, and then Suna and Konoha in turn. Perhaps not in my lifetime, but I'll certainly take the first step," he stated ominously, clenching one gloved fist tightly.

((I thought of the tower as not having a door, since Kizuato entered it without opening a door. The only reason he even knew he was in the tower was because the wind lessened and he could hear the echoes of his footsteps.))


Kizuato's ears caught the rapid footsteps against the stone of the tower; how could he not? Although the individual steps were light, they were so quick and repetitive that he could feel the vibrations running through the tower, even through the soles of his shoes. The Tsuchikage reached into the leather kunai pouch strung to his belt and quickly pulled one of the knives about halfway out. The metal felt cool against his skin, even as a vein running along Kizuato's forearm pulsed in the anticipation of what was about to happen. Who would need to run up that wall so fast? Intruders, perhaps? Yet it's from the inside of the walls . . .

And then the questioning voice met Kizuato's ears. It seemed familiar, and the question was one he doubted an enemy would pose. Was this one of his ANBU or a Jounin? Wouldn't that person know his own Tsuchikage? Kizuato turned around, smiling slightly. "Plenty of Jounin and ANBU are patrolling this wall right now. They patrol it every hour of the day, even at 2 in the morning. How do you know that I'm not one of them? I could just be a Jounin on patrol. Like you." The Tsuchikage laughed lightly at his own conjecture.

By the slight breathing of this man, and the minor sound his heart made with each beat, Kizuato was sure he was of strong build. Probably taller than the Tsuchikage himself was, since Kizuato was only 6 feet tall, and possibly physically more powerful. But, despite the fact that he wasn't entirely certain of who this was, Kizuato knew the voice seemed familiar. Perhaps he had heard it sometime while walking through the village. Kizuato was certain he hadn't ever engaged this man in conversation, but the voice certainly wasn't completely foreign, and he never forgot a voice.

Walking slowly so as not to alarm the other man, Kizuato made his way to the other window. His footsteps were level and controlled, a necessity to walk in a straight line when you couldn't see where you were going and the crickets no longer guided your steps. Kizuato's grip remained tight on the kunai, in case this ninja should choose to attack him after all. He leaned for a moment outside the other window and inhaled deeply. While the other side had smelled richly of the stone, dust, gravel, and thick mud that made up most of their country, this window smelled like the food of their country and the thick smoke that the smithies produced.

Finally, Kizuato turned around to face the man who had spoken to him earlier. Or at least his body faced this man; his head was turned to face the wall behind him, his empty eyes staring endlessly beyond the wall and everything else. "A king may gaze upon his kingdom as he wishes. A lord may view his fief in any way that pleases him. A duke can walk through his county at any time he desires. Why should it be any different for a kage?" Kizuato asked, his voice retaining only a small modicum of the lightness of earlier.

Kizuato let the questions pass, one by one. He listened thoughtfully, completely ignorant of the gesture of peace Vergil had made, as he couldn't see the Sannin lift his hand from the hilt of his sword. Kizuato nodded his head every few seconds as Vergil spoke. Yes, he had heard of the man. Kizuato knew everything that went on in his village; he had to. He knew of the man that was promoted to Sannin; after all, it was Kizuato who had signed the forms that officially recognized Vergil as the high rank. Odd, though, that this was their first time actually meeting.

But the questions and the tone; it was something that few people in Iwagakure dared give to their Tsuchikage. Most people gave him respect, as he certainly had done quite a bit to deserve it. Taking a deep breath, Kizuato leaned out the window once more and inhaled deeply. The familiar, thick air of Iwagakure filled his lungs, and he had to stifle a cough. But he didn't hate this air; no, he loved it. It was familiar, it was that of his village.

Kizuato turned once more to face Vergil. A stout wind blew through the window, tousling his hair and shifting it to the side, revealing the wrinked, reddish scars that covered his forehead and upper cheeks. Kizuato's eyes were staring in the general direction of Vergil, but they had no focus, no real target. A milky blue film covered them.

"Your questions are aggressive. You should learn a bit of respect," Kizuato advised, his voice tense. "From what you've heard? Everyone in Iwagakure knows what is to come; you are not special. Every day you can see the shinobi of the village marching; every day the academy students are drilled hard so they can become full-fledged Genin. And everyday the peace between Iwagakure and the other shinobi villages grows more tense."

Kizuato began to pace now. He could sense Vergil's relatively location, and Kizuato walked slow circles around the Sannin. "You say maintaining peace is best. But every day the peace grows more difficult to preserve; shall I simply wait for it to snap, or should I take the initiative and lead the assault? The second would be best for Iwagakure; what's best for the rest of the shinobi world, I could care less." Kizuato's voice was stern and serious; his mouth was set in a flat, unreadable line. As usual, his empty eyes portrayed nothing.

"Suna and Konoha have become close allies. Iwagakure has no such allies. Kumo looms over us, the greatest threat. Konoha and Suna regard us as a rabid dog, something that must be kept in a cage. I refuse to have my village seen that way; we will expand beyond what we have now. We'll engulf the lesser forces, and then defeat the greater ones. Do you see now?" Kizuato finally concluded.

Kizuato stopped walking for a moment when he heard Vergil stand and move to the window. With a sigh, the Tsuchikage strode across the room to the window opposite of Vergil and took his seat. He sighed and resigned himself to listening to the Sannin as he continued on for a few minutes. Kizuato was very patient, and his face was pointed directly at Veril as if he was watching the man, even though that would've been impossible. His ears picked up every little comment, every change in tone.

Despite the annoyance that was rapidly spreading through Kizuato's mind, his face stayed entirely plain and devoid of emotion, a perfect poker face. Finally, he shifted from leaning on his elbows and sat fully erect. He stared into the nothingness of his own darkness for quite a while, swallowing down the bit of rage that errupted in his stomach and caused a bit of bile to rise in his throat. He would think out his comment before saying it. Vergil raised good points; war was costly, and war was terrible. But war was also a solution. What was the alternative? A pathetic and meaningless existence.

"Do you not think . . . That I haven't thought about these things for quite some time myself?" Kizuato asked slowly as he shifted his weight a bit. "Perhaps a few months is not a great deal of time. But it is certainly more than enough; I know the horrors of war. All of Iwagakure does; what country has experienced more war than the Earth Country? What village, specifically, than this one?" Now standing on his feet, Kizuato walked until he was standing directly before a bare stone wall. He placed a hand on the cold, sleek rock that made up the perfectly structured tower. "What country has started more wars?"

Now turning to face the window he believed Vergil was still sitting in, Kizuato cleared his throat to continue. "War is costly. People die; but people die everyday, from many other reasons. Many reasons more pointless. Would it not be better for the soldier to die in battle, than to die as a farmer trampled by his own horse? What about the boy who could die serving his village, rather than be beaten to death by his drunkard father. Your argument of loss is pointless; people die everyday. It's an unstoppable part of life, and there's no bringing them back," Kizuato explained resolutely.

Now the rage began to build. A tinge of it entered the Tsuchikage's voice as he said, with surprising control and force, "I appreciate what you've done for Iwagakure. All of the village does; I appreciate your loss. But I can't stop a war for one man. The other villages view us as a rabid dog; such is not true. Iwagakure is a caged beast, a creature with enormous potential to shape this world, and yet its power is kept restrained. What better way is there to create peace than to unify the world. To achieve such a massive thing as peace, there must be losses." By the end, Kizuato's voice had simmered a bit, yet it was still clear that he was a bit annoyed.

Kizuato took a few steps closer to Vergil, his eyes cloudy and distant. His lips set in a deeper frown than before. "Do you know why they call this a 'tense' peace? Because our relationship with Konoha and Suna is line a strained wire. Every political movement of each village tugs on the wire or shifts it. Soon enough, it will snap, and the shinobi world will be plunged into war whether I initiate it or not. Iwagakure could be on the receiving end of war, then." Kizuato cleared his throat again, and his voice grew significantly more commanding. "I will not see a war fought on my homeland. Iwagakure shall be the attacking force; we shall seize the initiative, before another country does. Kumogakure has the opportunity available to it; should I sit here and wait for them to mobilize on such a chance? No."

The Tsuchikage turned away from Vergil now. In his mind, the conversation was done. The issue was concluded, and although his ideas had been questioned even in his own mind, he had come out with an even firmer belief in his ideas. Iwagakure must go to war. Kizuato made to leave the tower, but paused for a short moment so he could catch anything Vergil should say, if the Sannin would want to make a final comment.

"If a war is unavoidable, then i just have to do what i can to prevent more people from dying" he said calmly while closing his eyes.
"You have some good points, but initiating a war will not be a thing that i am a part of" he said while trowing himself down from the window.
Falling backwards out of the window, he came down on his feet and went into the rocks and canyons to put his thoughts back together.

"War is never the answer", he said to himself before dissapearing in the canyon.

[[exit]]

Kizuato sighed as he listened to Vergil's statement, yet he made no comment. Vergil clearly felt strongly on this; it wasn't something that the Tsuchikage would be able to change. Still, war would happen, whether Vergil desired it or not. "If a Sannin such as yourself wouldn't support your own village in a time of war, I certainly hope you don't intend to stay in Iwagakure," he stated, despite the fact that Vergil was out of earshot. "The greatest way to prevent more people from dying would be to end the war quickly; a prolonged war leads to a greater death toll. And the greatest way to ensure a short war is to take part in it." By then, Kizuato was simply murmuring to himself.

Finally, he stepped out of the tall stone archway and continued on his way along the wall. He should've turned in for the night, but he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep. Too many thoughts were buzzing around the Tsuchikage's mind, and he wanted a few hours to process them. Once again, ANBU and Jounin greeted him as he walked along, but this time Kizuato gave no response at all.

[Exit.]