Fishing was a rather profitable venture for villages and countries situated near the ocean. The Land of Waves was one such country, which was probably why almost a third of their society's workforce were fishermen. Kintaro, a tanned individual with spiky dark hair who held such a job, was currently plying his trade on a decently large vessel with a crew of men he worked with regularly. On a several day trip, they were dozens of miles away from the Land of Waves at this point in time, looking to haul in some deep water fish that you couldn't find closer to the coast. Rarity bred profit, after all.

The sun was hanging a little low in the sky, shining down on the relatively calm ocean with its fresh morning rays and creating a bright, but not unbearable glare off the surface of the cerulean sea. All well and good, but unfortunately for Kintaro, it didn't change the fact that he had nothing to do right now. He and his five crew mates were bound to be busy today at some point, but they weren't putting their backs into their daily business just yet. There was no need to rush, since the past four days had been quite bountiful.

So until the captain felt like calling them to action, Kintaro was leaning on the wooden railing of the ship, wondering why he hadn't brought anything to do on this trip for times like this. He'd been on enough voyages to expect this kind of thing, so it was kind of silly to be in this predicament. Maybe the bad situation with his wife had distracted him from diligent packing and preparation for the trip.

Dying of boredom and eager to find any sort of distraction, Kintaro turned his coal colored eyes towards one of his comrades on the deck, a lighter skinned fellow who hid his hair under a white bandana.

"Yuji, don't you have a deck of cards or something? All this waiting around is killing me."

His fellow fisherman kept his gaze on the water, likewise bored out of his skull. All the fish they had caught before had been salted for preservation, the sails didn't need adjusting, and there were no standing orders from the captain, other than to stay on deck and keep an eye out. He was just as bored as Kintaro was.

"I didn't think we'd actually have this much free time to ourselves, to be honest. I didn't bring anything to fill in this much downtime."

Kintaro sighed in frustration. "Figures. Can't believe I wish we were actually back home right now... my wife's been mad at me for weeks over the incident last month, and it would still be better than sitting around out here doing nothing."

Yuji shook his head as he stared out to sea, searching for anything interesting to hold his attention for more than a few seconds. "Well that's what you get for thinking you could use a watermelon for that kind of...thing..."

Sensing something off in the way his buddy petered off, Kintaro cast a curious look his way. "What's up? You sputtered out before mentioning the best part."

His fellow fisherman tried to block out the glare from the sun with his hand as he squinted at the horizon. "Look out that way, do you see that too?"

His interest piqued on this boring day, Kintaro looked up from his net hanging over the edge of the boat and followed Yuji's gaze out to sea. There was some sort of odd looking speck out there, but he just figured that it was another fishing vessel.

"Yeah, what about it? It's just another boat."

"Doesn't it look strange to you? Something's weird about it. You've got that old scope of your dad's right? Just give it a look, it could be interesting."

While doubting the potential for an exciting discovery, Kintaro nevertheless dug around in the pouch at his waist to withdraw the old telescope his dad had once carried while at sea. It had a large crack going down the middle of the lens, but it still got the job done, most of the time.

His hopes weren't high, however, as he used the instrument to get a better look at the silhouette on the horizon, Kintaro realized that Yuji was absolutely right. But this ship was more than just weird, it was unlike anything Kintaro had ever seen.

For one, though it was difficult to tell from this distance, the vessel appeared to be massive, no doubt dwarfing Kintaro's current ride by a ridiculous margin. That was notable enough on its own, yet it was by far the least interesting thing about it. Its design was unlike any ship he had ever seen sailing the waters, sporting torn, triplicate sails with complex rigging that each featured a golden beast that vaguely resembled some sort of winged reptile. The prow of the ship also carried such a visage, complete with golden maw. The sides of the ship's deck were armed with massive bow-like contraptions that Kintaro could only guess the purpose of, though he would have bet his money on them being weaponry.

He was just a fisherman with no experience in battle of any sort, but even so, Kintaro could tell this was a warship.

But even with that conclusion reached, confusion remained. The only nation that really possessed a navy of any respectable kind was the the Land of Water, but this mysterious warship sported no emblems or other descriptive marks to affiliate it with that nation. And even if it did belong to the them, why would it be all the way out here, in neutral waters near the Land of Waves?

Even more unnerving was the lack of movement on the ship. For such a large vessel, surely there was an equally large crew? Yet Kintaro couldn't see any movement at all, even with his telescope, and above all else, this worried him. He hoped they were just too far to discern something like that.

"What do you see, Kintaro? Even from here, I can tell that's no ordinary vessel."

Kintaro was startled out of his observations by the gravely voice of the fishing vessel's captain, a grizzled old man with dark eyes and graying hair, whose face sported a fair share of wrinkles and a scar on his left temple.

"I'm not sure, captain. I think it's a warship of some sort, but I can't see anyone moving around on the decks. The sails are torn too."

The old captain nodded warily, acknowledging the foreboding information presented to him. "Recently engaged in a battle of some sort, I suppose. Well, checking it out couldn't hurt. If it's full of injured soldiers, we can help 'em out and no doubt get on somebody's good side. If it's deserted, we can take the loot back home. We need any type of wealth we can get our hands on with the way the economy is right now..."

The small band of fishermen was indeed eager to investigate the strange ship and possibly secure some loot, though it was not lost on any of them that the inhabitants of the boat could be unfriendly. But considering the torn sails, they were confident they could outrun the mysterious vessel if it proved hostile. That being the case, the small crew was rather swift in angling their own craft in that direction.

The calm blue waters beneath their boat carried the band of fishermen swiftly towards their goal, and the closer they got, the more obvious the size of this unknown ship became in comparison to their own vessel. The captain, who had once served in the Land of Water's navy before retiring to the Land of Waves, whistled in amazement as the phantom ship drew closer.

"Unreal... I never imagined I would see a vessel that made even the Daimyo's flagship look puny. This thing could fit two of the Land of Water's biggest galleons inside of it."

The rest of the fishing crew knew little to nothing about warship classification by size; what they did know was that the ship looming over them was massive, and a larger ship meant more cargo space, which meant more loot.

Eager to board the vessel in question, the crew took almost all of their available rope and knotted a large gutting hook around the end, forming an amateur grappling hook. Of course, the sheer height of the mystery craft made tossing the hook by hand an impossible task, but thankfully one of the men had brought their crossbow from home. Not that pirates bothered fishing vessels very often, but it paid to be prepared.

After an impressive shot from Yuji, the hook was secured on the railing of their target, and the fishing crew began climbing the rope one by one, with only two of them staying behind to keep their own vessel in place as best they could.

Leading the foray into alien territory, Yuji reached the edge of the ship's railing before any of his fellow fishermen, including Kintaro, who was just behind him. That being in the case, he was the first one to peek over the edge, and his first words were not lost on his fellows behind him.

"H-holy fuck…"

Kintaro called up to his awestruck comrade. "What is it, Yuji? What do you see?"

Said comrade shook his head in disbelief as he finished climbing over the railing.

"I don't think I can put it into words. Just come see this for yourself."

Following his advice, Kintaro and the rest of the boarding party followed suit and climbed over the edge of the warship. As each one of them clambered over the railing, they were struck with silence at the altogether alien sight before them.

The deck of the warship was slick with recently spilled blood, clearly from the bodies of the slain soldiers scattered around the ship; but this was not what shocked them. The real cause of their awe was the identity of the soldiers, who were outfitted in equipment the fishermen had never seen before.

The dead men on the deck of the ship were covered head to toe in steel armor, thick metal plates covering every part of their bodies except for the joints, which were protected by some type of underlying metal mesh made of connected rings. Lying around the dead were strange, foreign weapons the men had never seen the likes of.

Sure, it was obvious that they were swords and polearms of some sort, similar to the weapons wielded by many warriors in the Nations, but these instruments of war were crafted in strange styles. The blades were long, straight, and double-edged, unlike the curved and single-edged katana or the Chokuto. The polearms were likewise alien in form. Instead of ending in a curved blade like the naginata, the wooden shafts of these foreign weapons ended in axe heads or metal tips similar but larger than arrowheads, and in cross formations. A few of the fallen warriors had crossbows much bigger than the one the fishermen had, and many others lied slain beside short shafts with spiked metal heads atop them.

Reining in their confusion and intrigue as best they could, the bewildered fishermen looked around the ship for signs of what had killed these alien warriors. Evidence of an intense battle was clear now that they were aboard the ship, as they laid eyes on ripped planks and shattered storage boxes among the bodies of the fallen. One of the metal warriors was pinned to the mast of the ship by a large steel bolt nearly six feet long through his gut, no doubt launched by a contraption similar to the ones on this very vessel. For all of his armor, it had been utterly insufficient against a projectile of that mass.

Some of the other warriors had their helms bashed in by blunt weapons, while the ones that died at the hands of bladed arms were mostly stab wounds in their exposed joints. Some had been killed by blows from behind, though whether this was from an exceptionally chaotic melee or outright betrayal was a mystery.

Some of the fishermen held less trepidation in their hearts than others, and were even bold enough to investigate the bodies closely. Lifting the snout-like helmets of some of the warriors to get a better understanding of who they might have been.

Those brave enough to do so examined the faces of the dead with serious and subdued gazes. While most of the faces of the fallen were undamaged, no doubt protected by their helmets, some sported jagged burns across their faces, as though they'd been directly scorched by bolts of lightning. Strangely, unlike the horrified or fearful expressions of the dead the ex-navy captain had seen during his tour of duty, the faces of these men and women were mostly that of determination and anger, although some had looks of regret frozen on their pale faces, as if they had failed to accomplish one last important task before the end of their lives.

Notably, there were no dead on the deck of the ship that looked different from these metal warriors. Everyone here appeared quite uniform, which was a little odd: the captain was well-aware that soldiers of such uniform appearance were generally on the same side. But if that was true, who had killed these fighters? Unfortunately, there was nothing present to hint at the answer.

Finished with their overall inspection of the carnage, the fishermen grouped together on the edge of the ship, feeling a little guilty about even thinking to strip these fallen warriors of their equipment for the sake of money. While it was an effect of the somber atmosphere mostly, it felt as though these soldiers had died defending their honor, and there could be no greater insult to them, whether they were foreign or not, to loot them after that.

But now that Kintaro had moved away from the destruction, he had a wider view of the now quiet battle ground, and he noticed that the dead bodies were more highly concentrated the closer they came to the captain's cabin. At first, he thought that it was merely a coincidence, but the more he looked at the carnage, the more likely it seemed that the number of dead in that location was either because they had been cornered… or had been defending something.

Kintaro pointed this out to his captain, who nodded somberly, his demeanor completely downtrodden as he was no doubt reminded of past battles and lost lives.

"Well, if we're gonna do anything on this cursed ship, we're gonna find out what these men and women died for. Let's look around."

Leading the way, the captain slowly covered the distance between himself and the captain's cabin, careful to avoid stepping on the rigid limbs of the dead. His crew followed likewise behind him, and they reached the open cabin within the minute, taking definite notice of the fallen iron clad soldier in the open doorway, with a metal bolt lodged in his throat. It was odd, because every other warrior of his same cloth had obviously been killed defending this room, yet this lone man had been struck down from inside.

Shaking the question from his mind, as there was no way he would ever know, the captain stepped over the fallen body and peeked into the dimly lit room. The torches along the walls had long since run out of fuel, and the only light available was the sparse sunlight that peeked through the open door.

After spending a few moments adjusting to the darkness, the captain and a handful of his crew stepped inside, eager to discover what so many had given their lives for.

The cabin itself was relatively small, and consequently, it did not take long for the venturing crew to lay eyes on yet another dead warrior, slumped against the wall opposite to the door, with a crossbow in one cold arm and a small box, no larger than an infant, cradled in the other.

The fishermen gingerly stepped over to the man, as if heavy footfalls would disturb his eternal slumber. Unlike the rest of the metal soldiers, this man bore no helmet, and so his grizzled, wrinkled face and frazzled old gray beard, marred with splotches of blood, were easily visible. The fallen soldier had a full head of wispy gray strands, likewise bloodstained, and a nasty gash across his forehead. Beside him was a metal helmet not unlike his comrades, slightly caved in from the force of a savage blow.

The crossbow in the man's cold and limp right hand was slack, and there was no ammunition in the device, making it obvious that this man had shot the other warrior in the doorway. Why he had killed one of his own was a mystery.

Pushing the question aside, Kintaro leaned down in front of the dead man before him. It just now occurred to him that none of the bodies aboard the ship were deteriorated too badly, meaning that they had not died all that long ago, especially taking the harsh ocean elements into account.

The older man must've been in his forties, or maybe even his early fifties. If anything, he had probably been a veteran, the commander of the soldiers aboard this dreary ship. His visage, while frozen in death, was a satisfied one. Like he had performed one final act of duty before his passing, knowing that he had somehow changed the course of fate.

Looking down to the man's steel-clad arms lined with gold, further reinforcing their conclusion about rank, Kintaro took notice of the small box cradled in the nook of the man's left arm. It had been noticeable when they first laid eyes on him, but now that they had seen nothing else of importance in the captain's cabin, it became painstakingly obvious to the fishing crew that this small container was what everyone here had died to protect.

Their interest piqued to insatiable levels, Kintaro attempted to grab the box and examine it, only to be met with far more resistance than he expected from a dead man. Not that the old warrior was actively resisting him, but he had a steel vice grip on the edge of the container. The rigor mortis effect of death only served to make the cold grip even stronger.

But still, with considerable prying, Kintaro extracted the box from the man's dead embrace, before placing the corpse's arm on his lap instead of limply at his side as a small homage to his ended life, whoever he might have been.

Finding it hard to see anything distinctive on the box in the dimness of the cabin, Kintaro took the object back outside onto the deck, where he and the rest of the crew would be able to examine the container with aid from the sun.

Placing it down in a small space unoccupied by a metal-clad corpse, the fishermen gathered around it. The box was very small, having foot by half a foot dimensions at the most. It was altogether plain, except for gold embroidery on the top. The golden lines wove in and out of each other intricately, forming an emblem that resembled some sort of lizard with wings, although none of the fishermen recognized such a thing aside from the similar design on the sails.

They also noticed that the box was really more of a chest of sorts. It lacked hinges, but was instead a two piece construction. There was a bottom section, naturally, and the top section was just barely a few centimeters wider on all sides, so that it would slide over the bottom section snugly.

After examining the box for a good minute, the captain spoke up, impatient with the current proceedings. "Well, are we gonna stare at this hunk of wood all day or open the damn thing?"

The majority of the crew nodded in agreement, although a few seemed a little nervous about the prospect of opening the container. After all, if the entire crew of this ghost ship had died to protect the thing, then surely it had other fail safes? Traps of some sort?

Nevertheless, the sheer curiosity of the whole situation overpowered the crew's trepidation, as Yuji, the burliest of the crew, picked up the box and attempted to open it. His muscles bulged as he tried to pry the box apart, veins making themselves prominent on his biceps, but despite all of his grunts of effort and annoyance, Yuji's attempt to open the mystery box failed completely.

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"W-what the hell? I can't open the damn thing!"

A handful of Yuji's fellow crewmen snorted in derision, baffled and amused at the strongest of their number being unable to open a silly little box.

"What's the matter, Yuji? Can't get a grip with those meaty sausages you call fingers?"

The accused man glared at his fellows. "Oh yeah? Here, you try. I'm telling you, this thing is sealed shut or something!"

One of the other men accepted the challenge, and took the box into his own arms, only to be met with the same results. After suffering a bout of laughter at his own expense, he passed the object down to the next man, whose success was equally denied.

Soon the befuddling little thing had been passed around to the whole crew, and it was discovered that not a single one of them possessed the strength to open it. Many of them muttered among themselves, a little insulted at being too weak to pry open a box.

Consequently, the men started coming up with suggestions for opening the container, although the most common one was to smash it open, while the rest were almost too ridiculous to even consider. However, Kintaro, who had been silent in his own musings, suddenly spoke up with the most reasonable idea presented so far.

"What about Pozu, back in the town? Isn't he a retired ninja or something? Maybe he'll know how to open it."

Kintaro's fellow fishermen were soon nodding in agreement, as they voiced their support of the idea.

"Yeah, he's like a Jonin from the Hidden Waterfall, right? He's gotta have some tricks for this kind of crap!"

"And I heard he's some sort of a seal expert too. This thing seems sealed to me alright, I bet Pozu will be able to open it for sure!"

As it was decided that the contents of the box would have to be discovered later, the men prepared to return to their own ship. They wanted to do some sort of burial for the fallen warriors here, but they couldn't very well bury these men out here at sea, and they had no means of starting a fire to cremate the dead. They had no choice but to leave this ghost vessel and its corpses to the sea.

But before they left, the captain motioned for his men to check downstairs.

"I sure as hell ain't takin' anything off the dead, but if you find anything downstairs you can take in good conscience, as long as it'll fit on the boat, take it. Anything we can barter off back home will add some money to the town. We need every coin we can get."

A handful of the crew headed off to do just that; Kintaro decided he would rather go ahead and take the mysterious box back aboard their own ship. Using the ropes the fishermen had used to board this floating vessel of death to begin with, he lowered the precious item down to the men who had stayed on the ship, who would no doubt be shocked when they heard of their comrades' findings.

After the better part of an hour, the fishing crew was back aboard their own ship, now loaded down with extra cargo. The men had found extra supplies on the lower decks of the ship, including an armory full of backup gear for the soldiers who had manned the vessel. Now the fishermen were taking hundreds of pounds worth of alien steel armor and foreign weapons back to the mainland, in hopes of selling off the unique items to collectors or arms dealers for a decent price. Of course, more than a few of them were interested in keeping a helmet or mysterious weapon as a memento of what they had discovered here. They were reluctant to leave the ghost ship out at sea like this, but there was no way to bring it back with them, as they could never hope to tow it and the crew wasn't large enough to man such a vast warship, especially with the damaged sails.

So for now, they had to be content with what they had managed to salvage from the ship, and the crew eagerly examined their findings as they angled their vessel for home. All the while, Kintaro sat at the stern of the boat, the mysterious box cradled in his hands almost like the dead man he had taken it from. And although it may have been his own delusions, he felt as though he could feel a rhythmic thumping from within his treasure, shallow and weak.

Maybe the ordeal was getting to his head. But he couldn't shake the feeling that what they had discovered today would have much larger ramifications than any of them could ever know.

----------------------------------------

When one thought of the Hidden Sand, or indeed, the Land of Wind as a whole, three things came to mind before all others. It was hot, it was dry, and there was sand everywhere. Unfortunately, those three things heavily contributed to the dubious distinction of being the least hospitable place in the Elemental Nations. Even the people that lived in the Land of Wind generally didn't feel overly fond of the place, even if they didn't outright hate it. It was always a 'well, it certainly could be better' type of mentality.

Even Baki, Jonin level ninja and frequent counsel to the Kazekage himself, had difficulty thinking of positive aspects of the Hidden Sand Village. If he had not been born, raised, and trained in this very place, he probably wouldn't have been compelled to live there at all. Being raised somewhere from birth could somehow endear even a locale as undesirable as this one to a person: to an extent, at any rate.

Of course, Baki couldn't leave now even if he wanted to. He was too involved in the affairs of his home village to ever consider leaving for any reason at this point. In fact, the Kazekage trusted Baki so much that the high-level ninja had been chosen to personally train his children.

Not that such a task was in the cards for the immediate future, as things stood now. Sauntering along one of the desert village's many streets, surrounded by civilians and floundering merchants alike, Baki raised his gaze to the blinding sun above. Half of his face was covered of course, but he had been living here for so long that the bright ball of flaming light hardly affected him regardless.

The events of the week prior had very nearly been a catastrophe for the entirety of the Hidden Sand, and they had undeniably shifted the future course of the entire village.

All because of one boy. Albeit a very important boy, but still just one child.

It had been no secret to Baki or any of the Sand Jonin that Gaara was a Jinchuriki. Within the young boy was Shukaku, one of the legendary Tailed Beasts. It had also been no secret that Gaara had been nowhere near close to taming the monster, and with every passing year, the mere existence of the Kazekage's youngest son posed an ever greater threat to the village.

The rapidly escalating disaster that was the Kazekage's youngest son had reached a critical boiling point when Shukaku began emerging of its own accord, or maybe because Gaara had flat-out allowed it to. There head been a number of incidents involving the maiming of children and even an adult or two. With the Kazekage convinced that Gaara was a lost cause that would ultimately do far more harm than good, the decision to terminate him had been made, only somewhat begrudgingly and not because of any parental fondness.

Unfortunately, the Kazekage had vastly underestimated his son's strength. Yashamaru, an ANBU-level ninja, was now dead, and Gaara, in his emotional distress, had fled the village entirely and disappeared into the desert. The event had launched the upper echelon of the ninja village into turmoil; a dangerous Jinchuriki who was no doubt more than a little angry with them as a village was on the loose, and even worse for Baki, he was now down a pupil.

He had been chosen to train the Kazekage's three children, but now that one was missing, there was a rift in standard procedure. Shinobi were always supposed to be trained in groups of three, as this provided the basic groundwork for team based operations. Temari and Kankuro alone simply would not do. Of course there were a handful of Academy students Baki could have chosen to fill Gaara's position, but none of the sniveling brats were even near the skill level or potential that the Kazekage's two eldest children possessed. Not to mention that Baki's two soon-to-be pupils were more than a little agitated by Gaara's disappearance, and he doubted they would be pleased to be grouped with some weakling on top of all of that.

"Hey! Get back here you thieving little shit!"

Distracted from his musings by the shout of a furious merchant, Baki returned his one-eyed gaze to the streets before him. The words of anger had been more than enough to let the Jonin know what was going on, but it became even more obvious as he saw a young child dash into an alley, followed by a middle-aged man with a scraggly beard that looked unreasonably upset.

Almost no one reacted to the scene. Ever since the alliance with the Land of Fire had been signed a few years ago, the Hidden Sand had been buried in a financial rut. The Daimyo of the Wind Nation had cut back funding for the Shinobi village as part of the deal, and the result had been a slow, strangled descent into poverty and inefficacy. Seeing an angry merchant chasing down a hungry and desperate kid was a common sight these days.

While Baki may not have been the most emotional of men, it did pain him to see his home village reduced to such a state. But nevertheless, he had no time to intervene on the child's behalf, for Baki had an audience with the Kazekage, who was not one to keep waiting.

With this in mind, the Jonin prepared to double-time it to his destination, but a loud and tormented scream from the alley the child and merchant had disappeared into stopped him short. While a cry of despair and agony may not have been so peculiar had it come from the child… this cry of terror was clearly that of the man that had followed him.

Even most of the civilian villagers stopped going about their daily business at the sound. What could a child possibly have done to make a grown man scream like that?

It was a question that greatly interested Baki, and although he hated to be late to his meeting with the Kazekage, the experienced ninja decided that a brief investigation was worth his time.

Stepping into the alleyway, his silent footfalls muffled by his own training as well as the sand at his feet, Baki was met with a most interesting sight.

The child was leaning against the wall, face hidden behind long blond bangs as he heaved for breath, his limbs splayed out lifelessly to his side. At the child's feet was the man who had chased him, curled into the fetal position, quietly whimpering as his wide eyes stared off into nothingness.

While Baki was not afraid of this child, he was not one to take chances with some sort of unknown power. His most educated guess as to what had caused the merchant's condition was that he had been hit with some sort of Genjutsu. But using even the lowest level of Genjutsu was nearly impossible for a child as young as this one, who seemed to be little more than five or six.

Not to mention, the kid looked absolutely exhausted. Sure, he had been running away, but this looked more like someone who had run a marathon and was about to pass out. It seemed like too much exhaustion to have simply been the result of a brief chase with a merchant.

Hoping that the kid in tattered clothing would not turn on Baki in surprise, the Jonin cleared his throat loudly enough to get the child to acknowledge his presence. With any luck, he could convince the urchin that there was no cause for alarm.

Then again, the child did not seem prone to alarm anyway. Turning his gaze towards Baki with no sense of urgency whatsoever, the tiny blonde simply stared at him, still struggling to catch his breath, but not actually alarmed, as best as Baki could tell. Whether it was because he was too ignorant to know his situation or because he felt no danger from Baki was a mystery.

Now that they were looking at each other directly, Baki could see that the boy's long blond bangs only covered the right side of his face. It was curled to the side in a way that hid his right eye, yet kept his hair away from his nose and mouth. With his right being hidden, only one dark sapphire eye looked up to Baki, expressing an all-around lack of concern with the Jonin's presence, or any sort of emotion Baki would have expected considering the state of the only other adult here.

Getting right to the point, the Sand Jonin pointed to the still trembling man on the ground. He didn't really have time to beat around the bush, and it wasn't in his character anyway.

"What did you do to this man?"

The boy didn't answer immediately, instead choosing to lift a chunk of bread in one hand and take a feeble bite out of it. Presumably, this was the good he had pilfered from the now incapacitated merchant. He clearly struggled a bit to chew, but that just seemed to be due to his lack of energy. After a few moments, the urchin did manage to swallow, at which point he finally answered Baki's question.

"I dunno."

Tiredness aside, the young boy's voice was entirely relaxed and free of worry, leading the Jonin to question whether or not the child even understood the gravity of what he had done to another human being. Either way, Baki was not at all satisfied with this incredibly vague answer.

"You think I'm a fool, boy? You expect me to believe that you don't know how you reduced a man to this state?"

Unfortunately, the child's next answer was not any more informative than his first one. "Well, I just looked at him. With the other eye, not the one I'm looking at you with. The other one does bad things to bad people. Sometimes. Not always."

Certain the blonde in front of him was trying to making fun of him or joking around, and with little time to waste besides, Baki decided to throw away civility for the sake of this mini-interrogation. Drawing a kunai, he held it up for the boy to see. There was no way this kid didn't know more than he was letting on.

"You will tell me what you did to this man… or else food will be the least of your worries."

Now Baki had no intention of hurting this frail child, but he was quite surprised to see the boy's gaze fill with anger and defiance at the sight of a weapon. His voice went from relaxed and carefree to on-edge in a heartbeat. Despite being so young, he clearly understood the gravity of a threat to himself. Baki had no doubt this was due to constant belligerence or threats from people like the merchant he had mysteriously dispatched.

"Go away. I'm just trying to eat."

Irritated that he wasn't even able to intimidate a child properly, Baki inadvertently let a bit more venom than intended seep into his voice. "If you don't do as I say, brat..."

The urchin's single visible eye narrowed as he glared at the older man accosting him. To Baki, it honestly looked like the kid was going to attack, but surely he couldn't be that stupid? Even a homeless runt would be able to recognize the uniform of a ninja.

And yet, for a brief flicker of a moment, Baki felt a a strange sensation on his skin. He was chilled, and yet, he felt the temperature around him rise. He had no idea what was causing this sensation, but the Jonin did know it was unnatural. That's why he moved.

Baki stepped back in alarm as a burst of unnaturally colored azure flames erupted from the sand at his feet, blasting heated grains against the Jonin's flak jacket. It was only a brief flare, and as the small pillar of blue flame, which Baki now noticed was also tinged with green, died down and faded from existence, the Sand Jonin turned his gaze back to the boy, who had returned to eating what was left of his bread. The boy didn't seem alarmed in the slightest with what had just occurred.

"That happens too sometimes. Things catch on fire a lot around me. Usually when I'm mad. It's not really on purpose."

Baki furrowed his brow as he gazed at the child that had returned to a state of seeming calmness. Maybe the kid thought he had deterred Baki somehow. Pretty conceited on his part, but the blonde couldn't have possibly understood how large the gap between them was. That said, Baki was actually pretty impressed by this whole incident.

"You seem to have many abilities you can't properly explain, boy."

"Nah, it's just those two. There's nothing else. What does it mean to you anyway?"

Baki couldn't help but smirk to himself. What it meant was that this boy had a remarkably high degree of untapped potential. Whether he could properly explain them, the child had remarkable abilities, and the flame must have been manifested by chakra. That meant this kid's raw potential outpaced where many Genin twice his age would be, even if it was uncultivated. Frankly, this kid was exactly what he was looking for.

Naturally Baki didn't voice his true thoughts, though he believed he now had a good excuse to present to the Kazekage for being late to his meeting. "How long have you been living on these streets? Have you been a thieving urchin your whole life?"

"I don't know. Not forever. I used to live somewhere else."

Curious regarding this information, Baki asked for clarification. "And where was this 'somewhere else?'"

"I dunno… it had a big tree and a pretty waterfall. That's all I remember. It was pretty, but the people there were mean, so I left. People here are the same though."

Now Baki was intrigued even further. The boy's scant description sounded like another ninja village far from here. Not to mention that there was a vast, inhospitable desert in-between the Sand Village and the rest of the Elemental Nations. Had this child come here by himself?

"I know of the land that you speak of, and it is far from the Hidden Sand… who brought you here?"

The boy tentatively looked around the alley. Baki noticed that the child was deliberately cautious when he moved his head, as if to make absolutely sure he didn't accidentally flip his bangs the wrong way and expose his right eye.

"Some men let me follow them here when they came to sell stuff. I didn't really know them though, and they left a while ago. I stayed. Didn't wanna walk through the desert again."

"What about parents?"

Not at all bothered by the question or his answer to it, the blonde shrugged. "Don't know. I've been alone for a long time. Only the guy at the waterfall place took care of me for awhile. There's never been anyone else."

"You say that like you weren't actually born in that 'waterfall place'. Where exactly were you born, brat?"

"Not here. Not there either. So I don't know."

"Can't you describe it?"

"No. It's too long ago to remember."

With a bemused smirk, Baki turned back to the street, well aware that he had kept the Kazekage waiting for far too long already. Frankly, he needed to learn a lot more about this strange kid, but that could wait. He knew enough to value his potential as it was. That being the case, he briefly turned his one-eyed gaze back to the kid in the alley.

"If you wish for an end to your troubles regarding your hunger, loneliness, and lack of direction, I suggest you come with me."

A confused frown overtook the child's face. "You were going to hurt me. Why help now?"

"Your abilities and mystique are of interest to me."

Baki neglected to mention the child's suitable potential as a substitute for Gaara. There was no need to reveal that detail here.

The blond still seemed doubtful. "I don't think I want to come with you. You're not very friendly."

Well aware of that aspect of his character, Baki could offer no rebuttal to that accusation. However, he had an alternative answer: even though the Jonin wasn't completely sure that Temari and Kankuro would appreciate being used as persuasive tools.

"There are two young children around your age that are closely connected with me. I'm sure they'll be glad to accept you."

Of course, Baki was actually pretty doubtful about that. Kankuro wasn't overly social and Temari was still a little bitter about losing her actual little brother. She didn't understand at her age that Gaara never saw her as a sister in any way. Her immature mind couldn't comprehend Gaara's now even more amplified hate for just about everyone. That being the case, she was still convinced that she was missing out on something; there was just something about young girls and having little siblings that appealed to them. Baki hoped she would grow out of it quickly.

"I don't trust you, Cyclops."

Broken out of his thoughts, and more importantly realizing that the little brat had just addressed him as Cyclops, Baki aimed an irritable gaze at the urchin before him. On one hand, the kid might not be worth the trouble. But considering Gaara's absence, and the fact that Baki hadn't yet encountered another child with such high potential for the shinobi lifestyle, the experienced veteran knew the hassle was worth it.

"Well, I suppose if you're eager to live out on these sandy streets with the blazing sun hanging over your head for the rest of your life, you're welcome to stay where you are. If you're looking forward to dying face-down in the sand, amounting to nothing, decline my offer. Make whatever choice you wish."

Baki turned away from the child with a smirk, acting as if he were about to leave. He may not have been Konoha's legendary Ibiki Morino, but he knew his way around manipulative techniques. And just as he expected, Baki could hear the child behind him rise to his feet, although there was still reluctance in his movements.

"What do you want with a kid like me? You aren't doing this to be nice."

Baki was impressed with the lack of naiveté in this young child. He was smart beyond his years; or he at least possessed some more developed critical thinking skills than the rest of the five or six-year old kids in the village.

"No, I'm not doing this out of pity for you. In fact, I despise weaklings, and I don't really like kids. But even I can see that letting someone like you roam the streets until you died of starvation or a knife in your back would be a waste. You have the potential to…fill a special need for the Hidden Sand: a need for talented and powerful shinobi. Surely that's better than the way you live now?"

Baki made extra sure not to use the word 'replace' when he spoke. While this child really was nothing more than a potential replacement for Gaara, negative words like that would not entice him to come along quietly. He would most likely never match the potential a Jinchuriki like Gaara possessed, but out of all of the young children with the potential to be ninja Baki had seen in the village, this kid was the next best thing.

Not to mention that this child's special ability could have been a Kekkei Genkai, and if that were the case, it opened up the potential for a new breed in the Sand. something like that would definitely be an asset to the village, which currently had no clans to rival the Hyuuga or Uchiha in the Leaf or anywhere else for that matter.

The boy came to stand beside Baki, having already contemplated the situation at hand. "When you say it like that, I'd have to be stupid to say no."

"That you would. But if you are going to accompany me, there is one condition."

The child turned his half-veiled gaze to Baki, expectantly awaiting the next line.

"If you wish to accept my offer, then you will tell me the truth about what you did to the man who tried to hurt you. I must know how a child like you bested an adult, even a useless civilian, so easily. You reduced him to a whimpering, quivering ball in moments. Certainly you must know something more than what you told me."

The blond boy tensed for a moment, unwilling to reveal anything about himself that people tended to criticize and judge. But he knew he would be throwing away a perfect opportunity at advancing his quality of life if he did not answer this Jonin's question.

"I... really don't know. I'm telling you, it just happens sometimes, when I really need to hurt someone. Like I said, there was a man who kind of took care of me in the waterfall place; he said it could be the strongest weapon ever, but I don't know anything about that."

His interest piqued, Baki pressed for a real answer. "The strongest weapon ever? Didn't he say why?"

The boy cocked an eyebrow at Baki. "If I knew I would tell you, Cyclops. I'm just telling you what my... I dunno what to call him, what some other old ninja guy said to me once."

Baki was miffed to receive such an answer, but the young boy beside him seemed truly unable to shed any more light on on the subject. There would be time to investigate this strange phenomenon later, but for now, the Kazekage had been kept waiting long enough.

"Do you have a name, kid?"

"Not one that I can remember."

"I see. Well, we'll find one for you eventually. But for now, you and I both have places to be."

The boy said nothing. His own words had cast a curtain of discomfort over him. Instead, he merely stood silent as Baki placed his hand on the boy's shoulder, using a Body Flicker to transport them both to the Kazekage's tower.

To any of the civilian passerby on the road, the odd pair had simply faded out of existence; but compared to the daily struggle of the village's economic depression, it held no one's attention for more than a few moments. Life in the desert was hard enough without having to worry about scary ninja and dirty street urchins.