“How do you describe a raindrop? It’s a tiny, seemingly insignificant bit of water, that when combined with a thousand of its brothers brings beauty to the land. But when you’re faced with the task of describing just one drop, what do you say?

“Brave, yet cowardly in the same breath? The basis of life and yet a symbol of despair? Beauty in a natural form?

“Unique?

“Is that how you’d describe me? For I am rain, and now I shall speak.”

| | | |

It was a cold, bitter night in Amegakure. There was no rain, so a deathly ice decided to lay itself upon the city. It was a night that would turn your nose pink just by sticking it out the door. And yet, Nakamura Kazuma sat on the roof of the former leader’s mansion, completely unaffected by the chill that surrounded him. The tiles of the roof felt dirty and moist under his callused and presently ungloved hands. Kazuma turned his head towards the point in the sky he knew contained the setting sun. He could feel the last of its rather faint warmth, and smiled as it finally disappeared. Night was here, the master of fear and emptiness. He would have rejoiced if night hadn’t been eternal for him.

To most, this night would be silent. They would lie in their beds, helpless against the cold, and hear only the thick silence that forced its way into their ears. They would feel it as it consumed them and wrapped its unloving arms around them, arms that forced them to sleep. But to Kazuma, this night was full of sounds. He could hear the fearful scuttles of animals far below them as they desperately searched for shelter, he could hear the moan of buildings as their structures were altered by the frigid temperatures, and he could even hear the ice slip off his roof as he stood. There was always movement, even in the stillest of moments.

Kazuma turned, and as he did so, the vibrations that his body set off allowed him to know exactly where he stood. He was near the edge, as he couldn’t feel anything beyond the point that was now at his back. He took a careful step forward. Most people would think he was out of his mind for being up on a slippery, dirt covered roof that he couldn’t even tell you the color of on an icy night, but there was no one around to see him, so there was also no one to think that of him.

Kazuma reached the inner edge of his area of the roof. He reached out and his hand met cold stone. It was smooth, but seemed just as dirty as the part of the roof Kazuma now had his feet placed on. He knew that somewhere along this wall was a door leading back into the building. Kazuma had requested that this part of the building be put in a few years ago so he could come out here like he was now. And, the villagers didn’t object. They never objected to anything he asked of them. He had them wrapped around his finger just by living.
Kazuma continued to feel his way down he smooth wall, until he finally found what he was looking for. The material of the wall became moist and smoother yet, but still kind of bumpy, as if it were painted, and it probably was. By feeling around a little, Kazuma was able to grasp a small metal knob that beat out all of the other roof materials in a contest of coldness. He turned this, and was met with a gust of air that was slightly warmer, but smelled of cement after a long rain. For a moment it choked his senses, and Kazuma could barely breathe. But he soon got used to it, and stepped into the room.

In front of him, he heard bits of water dripping down the walls. Every two or so feet, a droplet landed slightly lower than the last one, which indicated steps of some sort. It was always rather moist in this room, even when it wasn’t raining. Kazuma supposed that when the villagers had built it, they hadn’t thought too much about making it waterproof. Kazuma liked getting wet, after all. And so, the ice from outside managed to seep its way through the roof and drip slowly onto the staircase below. Kazuma stepped forward and used the sound of the falling water drops to make his way leisurely down the stairs. He had gotten quite used to these stairs, and making his way up and down them was hardly a problem by now.

Something he never quite got used to though, was the intense musty smell that hung within the room. It overpowered any other smells that might have been present. But, if you have water seeping into a room long enough, then he supposed that all sorts of different fungi and molds would begin to grow. For a moment he actually wondered what might’ve been present. Were the walls and ceiling covered in a soft, spongy moss? His imagination ran rampart then, imagining all sorts of mosses and vines covering the once smooth, stone walls. But, he could tell from the way the water slid down the wall, and the way it felt under his knowing hands, that the walls at least were free of life. He wasn’t about to check the ceiling, however.

At the bottom of the staircase was another door. Kazuma knew it was there, and he knew exactly when he was about to approach it. Coming in here daily allowed him to memorize the room completely. It was small, but it was one of the few he could navigate so easily that he didn’t even have to think about it. He had reached the bottom of the stairs now, and reached out to grasp the door. Only, it wasn’t there. His hand reached out and gripped nothingness.

Fear enveloped him. He must have left the door open. But why? Why would he be so careless? Now he had no idea where he was. It was so dark, darker than it had been in a long time. But he wouldn’t give into his panic. He was the leader of Amegakure. He was their god. Gods don’t panic.

But I am not truly a god…

| | | |

“I shall speak to you of the dream of a man who has now perished. A dream that I, the shadow of this man, must rise to complete. I will speak to you of power. Of power that you could have never imagined: power that not even the dear Kyuubi container could even encompass.

“It is time now, for us to come together and yet remain worlds apart. It is time for shinobi all over the world to despair.”

| | | |

Kazuma had finally made it back into his home. It hadn’t been the most pleasant of experiences- he had nearly fallen over twice, but now he had his bearings again. He was now in the kitchen, making himself a cup of hot tea. He had a cupboard devoted to tea, and had painstakingly learned the Braile alphabet so that he could read the labels that one of the villagers had attached to the boxes for him. Tonight’s tea was jade oolong, and it was busy steeping on the stove while Kazuma drummed is fingers on the counter boredly. The counter actually felt a little grimy. There were a few things clinging to it that felt like crumbs, and it was also rather greasy. He’d have to have someone wash it for him. Or, better yet, he’d do it himself. Making someone do it for him made him feel useless. He hated feeling useless.

Just as he was about to check on the progress of the tea, a knock sounded at the door. Kazuma was curious. It was rather late now, so why would anyone want to come by? They should be asleep in their warm beds, not walking about in the terrible cold. But, the knock sounded again. Kazuma decided not to keep them waiting.

“Coming!” he called. His voice was deep and imposing, and he could barely sound friendly even when he inserted the utmost warmth into it. It was a voice meant for a figure of authority, so Kazuma supposed it fit him well.

He exited the kitchen, and keeping a hand on the wall, moved through his sitting room to the entry hall. His bare feet took in the cold tile of the entry hall immediately, and he was soon able to locate the door from sheer practice. He didn’t even need to bang around on the walls anymore. He turned the knob of the door and opened it slightly. “Who’s there?” he asked.

“Sir,” came a calm, quiet voice. It was feminine, and was very shaky from the cold. He guessed the person wasn’t any older than seventeen, and probably needed something important. “Sir, my heater broke. The neighbors wouldn’t take me in- they said they couldn’t spare the room and blankets. I- I told them that I could bring the blankets, but they, they just…turned me away. I didn’t know where else to go. You’re always so kind to us, and…” Her tone of voice told him that she wasn’t lying. She didn’t falter once, although she did stutter, and her breathing pattern didn’t even alter in the slightest to imply a jump in heart rate. It was safe to let this woman in.

“You are always welcome here. Come in, I was just about to enjoy some tea.” He opened the door wide, and allowed the freezing woman to enter his home. “Might I ask your name?” he asked.

“Oh, yes of course!” She was obviously quite surprised with herself for not telling him yet, though something in her tone gave away the fact that she was slightly disappointed he didn’t already know who she was. ‘Silly girl. She should know I don’t have the time to memorize the voices of every single villager. ’

“I’m Serene.” She said sheepishly.

“Pretty name. You fancy oolong?”

“Anything’s good, thanks.”

“Alright then.” And, staying close to a wall, Kazuma made his way back to the kitchen. She followed.

“Um, would you like me to pour the tea for you?” she asked cautiously.

Kazuma inwardly sighed. Everyone always thought that being blind handicapped him. It annoyed him beyond comprehension. There were some things he couldn’t do that normal people could, and he had to work harder at everything than most, but he was fully capable of living. His mind was crying for him to snap rudely at the girl, but these people had this godly image of him that he didn’t want to shatter. So, instead he consented, though reluctantly.

She quickly poured the tea, and handed him a cup. It was a little cold now from her interruption, but Kazuma could tell that it probably wouldn’t affect the taste. Of course, it could have over steeped, but slightly sour tea wasn’t that big of a deal. All he wanted was the caffeine. “Let’s go sit down in the next room,” he started, “Unless of course you’d rather take your tea straight to a guest room and rest?”

“No, no, that’s fine. I’d love to sit with you a while.” It was sincere.

The first few moments were passed in awkward silence. Kazuma sipped his tea and starred unseeingly off across the room. He knew that Serene had sat down at his right, and he hoped he wouldn’t have to try and look directly at her. It was annoying, trying to pinpoint someone’s exact location, and attempt to stare into their eyes. He could pull it off; he’d just rather not put in the effort. After a while though, Serene made an attempt at conversation. Kazuma could tell she was nervous, he heard her adjusting and re-adjusting her position in her chair, and she was even picking up and setting down her tea over and over without taking a sip. The rhythmic clank of tea on coffee table was beginning to toy with Kazuma’s patience.

“So, how much can you tell about a person by listening to their voice?”

He chuckled. “Enough to know you don’t really care. I don’t mean to rude, but I’d rather not talk about my, er, condition if you please.”

Serene most likely blushed then, as the next thing she said betrayed her embarrassment. “S-sorry.”

“It’s perfectly alright.”

And silence fell again. Serene resumed her fidgeting, and Kazuma continued staring at the wall, wondering what color the wall was. He remembered that names of the colors, but couldn’t remember what colors he had seen…blood was red. It’s all he remembered: seeing blood. It was the only thing he remembered about his life before waking up in one of the few remaining forests in Rain Country sixteen years ago. ‘Sixteen whole years…and they tell me I haven’t aged a day…’ Most people would be overjoyed at the fact that they appeared to be immortal. But to Kazuma, it was just plain obnoxious. He hated being separated from the rest of the human race. As if he wasn’t different enough already, he had to be immortal too. If he died, and Kazuma supposed the statement would be one big ‘if’, he was going to whack the real god a good one.

“What’s it like?” Serene asked. Kazuma hadn’t the slightest idea of what she was talking about. Was she referring to his blindness? Didn’t he already tell her he didn’t want to talk about it? Was she referring to- “What’s it like…” she started again, “What’s it like not being able to remember who you were?”

“Who I was?”

“Well, you must know who you are now. You’re our leader, our god so to speak. There’s no reason for you to dwell on the fact that you don’t remember anything. You’ve started over. You are someone…But still…”

“But not the person that I would be expected to be, if anyone from my past life came knocking at my door.”

“Yeah…”

“You asked me what it’s like…? It’s frustrating at times. I want to know what I did. You found me just outside the radius of the Great Explosion*, and it was right after the first rain you had had in four years. It’s a little strange, no? But I suppose…what I don’t know can’t hurt me. So, even if I wish I could remember sometimes, I know that I’m fine not knowing. I have all of you: the entire village. And, even if I don’t know all of your names, each and every one of you means something special to me.

“I just hope. Deep in my heart I hope that I wasn’t related to Akatsuki in any way.”

Serene frowned, and he felt her gaze land on the ring he wore on his left thumb. It was a worried and sympathetic gaze, but one strong enough for him to feel. He quickly hid his hand. He still didn’t know what the ring was, but he knew that it reminded the villagers of Akatsuki. That in itself was enough to let him know that the ring shouldn’t be his. He had tried getting rid of it once by throwing it into the nearby river, but it had come right back to him the next day. He hated it. It was if it had chosen him…but for what?

| | | |

“They shall cower in fear as our power grows, soon even afraid to move from their homes to fight the coming battles. All shall know our name, and the mere mention of it will cause a wave of fear and panic to wash over those nearby.”

| | | |

Serene finished her tea then. “Thank you for the tea, Nakamura-sama.”

“Anytime. Now, shall I show you to your room?” And with that, Kazuma led the woman to one of the guest rooms that were on the floor above. She entered thankfully, and closed the door quietly, signaling that she wouldn’t be of any disturbance to him from this point on. Kazuma smiled. They really loved him, didn’t they? And he…how did he feel?

He felt empty. But he put on a strong face, forcing them to believe his words. Usually they were true. But, sometimes he found himself doubting the things that left his mind. He wanted desperately to know who he was. Screw who he is now, who was he? What was he?

He was Nakamura Kazuma to Amegakure. But inside, he was a lost, ageless soul with no purpose in life but to please those surrounding him.

| | | |

“And it shall be our job to enforce that fear, to embed it in their hopeless minds. We will strike down mercilessly, leaving no opposing force standing. And soon, we shall take the entire world within our palm.

We, are Akatsuki.”

| | | |

Kazuma smiled. If helping these people was the only thing left for him to do then he would do it. He would…

He would devote his life to it.






*Great Explosion- my name for the explosion caused by Akatsuki’s machine