I had heard that the orphanage needed toys. Lord Kazekage had made sure
to notify any “lazy delinquent Academy Students” who might be available
about this task. Having nothing to do, I decided to do some volunteer
work. I realized after a bit of research that the highly intelligent
but underfunded orphans needed some sort of intellectual stimulation.
So, gathering my set of iron fillings, I began to craft shogi sets. As
I worked, I thought of the people these orphans would become. I
recalled the great Shikamaru Nara of Konoha, to whom shogi was a key
part of mental development. After making about six, I took a small
break to regain my chakra and started to pack them. After doing so, I
started the walk to the orphanage donation center, a large, wooden
affair with doors like a barn and a chimney so old, it would probably
break down. “They need more donations”, I muttered. “The institution
won’t be able to survive without money. What will happen to the
children? After all, they are the future of Suna. They’re probably
understaffed as well. Look at all this trash around here!” My
depressing attitude became quite contagious when I reached the inside
of the building. When the volunteers stopped to look at me (big
mistake) they found themselves thinking of collapsing buildings, crying
children, and graveyards. I reached the countertop and gave my donation
to the woman behind the counter. Of all the people in the room, she
seemed the only one not affected by sadness. That was probably because
the air around here was filled with her austerity. “Your name?” she
asked, her voice sharp as a cleaver. “Jorus Kinzokutei, ma’am” I
responded. I probably wanted to keep an attitude of politeness around
her. She seemed rather unstable. “Is this your donation? Shogi?” “Yes,
ma’am.” “Excellent. Finally, someone who realizes the talent of our
children. Very well; thank you.” I left the building and went home,
inwardly glad that I had done good, but outwardly depressed because,
well , that’s just how I am.