The Price for a Dead Soul

A thud sound was made, much like a corpse being defeated in combat, dropping lifelessly to the cold ground. This one’s situation was merely the same. And there lay, broken in mind and spirit, a cloaked individual who had just lost everything. A war? No. It was nothing of the sort. A war implies that the battle a battle held two fighting sides. Sides?  All this poor soul remembered, was the slaughter that took place. The cloud village was gone, and so was everything he had ever known.

Lying flat on the floor, Kingpin, no; this man was no longer tied to that name. He lifts himself up, stopping, with him on all fours, like an animal. His knees hurt while they pressed on the hard grain wooden floor. He could barely see through the lens of his mask. He slowly removes his mask with his right hand,, his brown dirty hair falls downward, dripping with sweat from the heat of the village as it hung. Anbu, he was not, not anymore. With the mask off he catches a glimpse of the small letters inscribed in the mask on the small gold plate attached to the corner alongside the inner section of the mask.

“In recognition of your services, the Raikage bestows upon thee the rank of Captain. May you r team follow you through the toughest time, ensuring the protection of the village and the Raikage.”

In a burst of rage, violent like never before, he raised his arm high above the air, and smashed the porcelain mask against the ground, it cracked only once to prove its craftsmanship, but soon would shatter into many pieces after Ganki struck the ground with it numerous more times. The gold plate flung away from him, now hidden under the bed. Ganki couldn’t stand it anymore, the lost, and the betrayal, all of it! He continued more with his rant. With his hands, he stripped them clean clean of the gloves and forearm protectors and grabbed a hold of his cloak and vest. With his mighty strength he pulled so vigorously with rage and savagery, he ribbed them into many pieces. The Kage, that’s all he could think of. Dash the village, dash the enemy, and dash the shinobi who fled before the devils tools.  His hands dropped lifelessly to the ground, his shoulders weak as well. Tired, and defeated, that was all he was, and will ever be. A, survivor of a now shamed village brought to ruin, by the very person who was supposed to rule it.

Though, his body now tired from his short fit of rage, his mind was forever so focused on it. The mental pictures began to flow in, what would have happened if the Raikage actually showed up? Surely it would have changed the outcome? Being born into a rich and noble family, the Sakura, his loyalty was absolute to the village, it was his home. Was. He would have died along his fellow shinobi, happily. His friends, he could hear them, as if they were here. His arms and legs grew weak at the sound of them dying out, soon, it was all silent once more. The depression was getting to him, hitting him even more now. He fell hard to the floor, the shards of the mask pressing into his bare skin,, some through his now shredded clothes. He curled his back, his hands grabbed on to his somewhat long hair and pulled. He was breathing way to fast beyond normal, then finally, It happened. The tears of the man who once had everything, then followed down from his blue eyes as he yelled in agony as he cursed the Raikage’s name. He had lost everything, because of the kage.

What was he to do? He had no one to talk to, no one to speak to. However, something, grabbed his attention. Perhaps something had “snapped”, within him. For now, all he could think about, was, the Raikage. Just thinking about the pain he wish eh could inflict on the kage, slow, undying pain. The more he thought about it, the more focus he became. Was this his fix? He once again rose from his hands and feet, barely standing. He surveys the room, noting that it hadn’t changed not one bit. The seal he placed was still here too. Hence how he got here. He walks over to the dresser, opening the draw to look for some new clothes. What he had on, it wouldn’t do. After slipping on the extra set of clothes, he was now dressed on regular village clothing, more like the locals. The hood he wore was brought back, for now. He also had a few kunai and such placed in his pockets and pouch among with his other trinkets, those he couldn’t abandon. Where was he to go? He couldn’t stay here, no matter how peaceful this village was. He was literal dead on the inside; he had no place amongst the people. Walking towards the door, in his depressed like state of mind, as the thought of the betrayal still lingered, he grabbed the headband from his forehead, and held it in his hand. He gave it a good long look, it only made him…, angrier. He flung it against the wall, denting the spot where it the wall even. He, was done with it all.
And now, he opens the door, flinging the hood over his head, covering his face, and proceeded on out, for he had nothing else to look forward to, but the lone road of defeat.

His sword is left in the middle of the room, dug within the hard wooden floor, for it was the word of a anbu, and Ganki was anbu no more.

((Exit))