#secretsand

“I’ve got movement,” Rasa brought the wireless microphone closer to him. “At the Mesa. C5.” His optic nerve latched unto a foreign figure scanning the horizon while Rasa sat safe in an underground bunker beneath the desert sands.

Kaze no Kuni’s Great Desert was Suna’s greatest ally. A vast expanse of levelled sands that left little room to hide. And with Rasa’s Third Eye keeping watch— there was nowhere to run too.

Not even for Konoha’s Yellow Flash.

“Away from the boundary?” came a voice from the ear piece. “We’re not to engage otherwise. He has a flee on sight order.”

“Those aren’t my orders.”

Namikaze Minato is sure to try his luck sneaking into Sunagakure. The Kazekage said, almost as an after thought. Or at least I would send him over to assassinate me if I were the Hokage. Konoha is desperate to cripple at least one village right about now. They’re running low on some resources, I hear. They need the war to end soon.

“Rasa. Careful. Those are everyone’s orders. You’re valuable to the village and you’re not about to lose your head on account of being stupid.”

He adjusted the position of his Third Eye, moving behind Minato. What are you looking at, shinobi?

Rasa caught sight of a village up in the horizon. It’s not a fort nor was it in any particularly strategic location. “Movement. On foot forward to C6, 7— he looks like he’s heading for the village up in C39. Do we have anything on it?”

“Hmm…” Rasa waited patiently as he listened to pages turning. Some scratching sounds. “Not much really. Just a trading center. There’ll be some water… I guess a few camels for food. But nothing Suna will miss.”

He nodded in agreement. Rasa was about to leave it at that when—— “Hey, did you say a trading centre?” His optic nerve watched Minato come closer and closer to it. Going faster than a regular shinobi but slower than his usual speed. Saving chakra. C21. C22. C23.

“Yeah, you know. Camels and their carts all around the oasis. Hah, can you imagine the Konoha people seeing—“

“Does it go to Suna?”

C26. C27.

“What?”

C30. C31.

“We have trading centers with free passage to Suna for the war? Do we let this trading centre freely into Suna?”

C35.

“Yeah— I guess.”

Shit

“Hey! Rasa! Don’t——“

And with that Rasa popped open the lid of the bunker and flew out. On his gold sand. Fast as he could. Straight for the Yellow Flash. Straight until he was close enough for Minato to sense him, turn his way, and meet his eye.

A shower of marked kunai clashed against a wave of gold. Rasa brought him and his gold sand higher and higher. Just out of reach. Just far enough never to be marked himself. But Minato appeared in place of one of the daggers. Shot another one up in the air. Higher. Higher still.  There is enough of an opening for Rasa to duck down under. Gold projectiles sent flying towards Minato. Molding itself into sharpened edges mid flight.

Minato’s eyes were on him. Evaded the attacks, and they were unto a chase. Good. Stay away from that village. Stay away from Suna. Rasa was still just a breath out of reach. He might not have survived this long had he not been a long distance fighter. Had he not planted a little bit of gold dust wherever he went across the desert.

Come and get me.

Further and further into the desert. Just out of range.

See, the Konoha shinobi always fall for this trap and they almost always never learn. A Suna shinobi will engage. Will be overwhelmed by the enemy forces. Will be forced to make a tactical retreat— with their enemies at their heels. Often, they are led into a narrow path, where puppeteers are hiding in the rocky terrain. Waiting for an ambush.

Except, if the one at your heels is someone who has no problem taking down people in a narrow terrain. There’s just too much surface for Minato to mark. Too much places for this one to hide. But Rasa knew that. Rasa knew exactly where he was leading Minato.

Rasa moved on his gold sand forward— then abruptly back. A wall in front of Minato. But the other shinobi simply used it to kick off into a higher ground. Another wall of gold forming behind them. Rasa rising into the air. Another wall to the left. One to the right. The pyramid forming— racing against Minato’s steps. Rasa clenched his fist, ready to crush the Konoha shinobi.

But with a single marked kunai thrown into the air. At the very last step, just as the gold dust enveloped Minato. He teleported out.

“Heh, almost had me there, Rasa,” he stood triumphant atop the pyramid. A second to catch his breath.

“You’re definitely right where I want you.”

Minato’s victory was short lived. A shadow loomed over them both. He turned around and was face to face with an approaching dust storm. When he looked back to where Rasa was, the man was already diving down on his gold sand as fast as possible. Down to an underground bunker he could take shelter in.

It all happened too quickly. The gold dust pushing away the sand just enough for the door to reveal itself. A stab in the shoulder blade. Then he was shrouded in darkness.

A blade against his throat.

“I hate your kunai,” Rasa hissed.

“I hate Suna’s sandstorms,” Minato tried to move away— only to hit his head on the back of the bunker. “Not a lot of room here.”

“You’re taking up all the space. And the air. Why don’t you teleport back home? Better luck on that assassination attempt next time.”

It was hard to read Minato’s facial expression in the darkness that surrounded them. “Well, I’ve got a big enough fish here. Anyone from the Kazekage line would be good enough.”

Rasa didn’t say anything.

He didn’t have to. If Minato wanted to cut his head and present it back to Konoha, he would have done so by now. Konoha’s Yellow Flash has no more room to manoeuvre.

That’s when Rasa felt a hand on his chest— then higher. /Looking for flesh to mark./ A panic. Flung gold sand and all its sharp edges in front of him. Only to spin away. Light in front of him. Blue light, spinning in Minato’s hand. Too close for comfort.

Then, Minato spoke. “Rasa, this war has to end.”

I know. The gods know I’m tired of sending good shinobi to die on the battle field every day.

Minato lowered his hand down. The electric blue fading smaller and smaller until they were once again enveloped in darkness and silence.

“I don’t know,” Rasa confessed, “I don’t know how to make that happen.”

“But I know it won’t happen here,” Minato leaned back. A dull thud of his head hitting the metal end of the bunker resounded. “Ow!” Rasa had to laugh at that. He could hear Minato adjusting himself, finding a good spot to sit on in the darkness. “I still have to bring something back to the Hokage though. Proof of success.”

“Oh, that was your idea to use a marked trader’s cart to get your seals into Suna?”

“Thought I could make it happen. One life to end the war. Otherwise, Hiruzen-sama would have us slaughtering people bit by bit.”

“What? Are nightmares haunting you now, Namikaze?”

A beat.

They both know the answer to that.

“One death,” Rasa sighed. “One death to end a war. Perhaps… if Konoha and Suna had a mutual enemy.” Which they did—- Iwagakure. “Our Kazekage might be convinced to provide a certain amount of intel.”

“And we get to be the executioners?”

“Iwa is at your door,” Rasa pointed out. “They have invaded Kusagakure. It will only be a matter of time until Amegakure falls into their hands as well. We all know how that will pan out if they inch closer to Hi no Kuni.”

“And Sunagakure will…”

“We might be able to help spread their forces thin.” They are Kaze no Kuni’s northern border. “The old fence sitter is more likely to defend the Konoha front.” Rasa shrugged, “Look, if you go into Sunagakure. We will lose men to you. You will lose men to ours as well as to the desert. And you’ll still have Iwa at your tail.”

Minato shifted his weight, "I need assurance."

x.X.x

Rasa trudged onwards, back towards Sunagakure. The heat of the sun on his back. But there was something else that burned on him. A fleshly executed seal right on his chest. It weight just as heavy on him, as the small sharp bit of gold now resting on Namikaze Minato’s chest—- millimetres from the man’s beating heart.

What? Did you expect them to just shake hands on it and just trust that they were talking to good men? Perhaps, in another life. Perhaps, under better circumstances.

But for now— they were two lives on a scale.