Echoes of the Centennial

Civilian

The stars had guttered out, like the late night fires by the farm's fields. The sky was a sheet of fading colors, bleeding lackluster into one another, moldy peaches and sallow yellows, greying streaks of navy and indigo above them.

Mornings like these; a cooling sweat on his back, fresh dirt under his fingernails, pleasantly aching muscles with the colors of the sunrise awash in the skies above, they were the ones worth living for. The way the sunlight would play amongst the lush leaves, how the wind would sing.

Kazuma sat there, back positioned against the sturdy apple tree of his childhood, and waited patiently. One hand raised to his brows, shadowing his eyes from the blinding light of the morning sun.

They would be here any minute now, panting and sweating as they ran past the trail down the road. This daily routine of his brought a comforting stability to life. A bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

Spotting the bright yellow-haired one who never tired, never slowed, juxtaposed by the pink one who sweated the most, panted the most, but never gave in; made him smile. He liked those two the most. The loudest of the tribulating children running down their trails day in and out. It was difficult to rectify their chubby red-faced visages with shinobi.

He fidgeted against the ruffled bark of the tree, shirt uncomfortably sticking to his sweat-soaked skin. The day was too hot already, weak winds only bringing more heat his way. The latest heat-wave was a nightmare for every Konoha farmer in the village.

Dark brown hand gleaning the arid dirt between his fingers, he made a note to remind father that the plants would need extra watering. They could probably consider hiring academy students for the job. The orchard was expansive, after all. Father was not getting younger.

A small ball of white fluff was scrambling after the blonde-haired child. Squinting his eyes he thought he could discern legs underneath all the fur. Faint yelps in the distance as the duo slowed to a stop to let it catch up. The blonde one spotted him from a distance, excitedly jumping up and down as he shouted a greeting, small white dog wiring around his legs, streaks of white light following in its wake.

Kazuma simply smiled and waved back, making sure to direct his attention toward the shy, pink-haired one as well, a small red-faced wave directed back at him for his efforts.

Father called to him from the farm, gargling voice conveying none of his unease at having shinobi so close, and so he was the signal to start working again. Calloused hands gathering some dirt in his palm, he crushed it in his fist, sent a final glance toward the children traipsing down the road again, and left to join his belly-aching father.

His longlegged limbs made due haste for the farm.

"Kimiko-chan, have you heard about what happened down by the western, or maybe it was eastern, side of the Land of Wind? Close to Sunagakure even!" Yuki announced eagerly, eyes gleaming with the excitement of gossip, gossip she had single-handedly procured nonetheless. No second-hand fisherman's gossip here.

Her subtle flirtations with some of the traveling merchants had finally paid off. She hadn't heard of something so interesting since the Raikage was assassinated. Leaning in close enough to buffet her forehead against her friend, she winked before dramatically glancing from side to side.

She was under no illusions that there wasn't some loyal shinobi present somewhere at the tavern, listening in and ready to report anything of interest. But a girl had to find her amusement where she could.

Kimiko-chan, regular bore that she was, simply gestured impatiently. Scowling face betraying none of the interest she knew was there. Yuki decided to reward her standoffish behavior by stalling further, calling over a waiter with a small quirk of her lips. Kimiko-chan simply rolled her eyes and looked away, broodingly staring at the shinobi gathered around the tavern, a pensive frown on her stern face.