Another Day (TW?)

As he entered into the desert, there was the quiet, dark thought of ’What would it matter if I did die? If I were to just let them-‘ He shook his head, trying to cut off the morose thought, one that was a reoccurring one, one that did so with ever increasing frequency. He knew that, rationally, it would mean that he would be… well, dead. But there were very few people who would grieve- actually, the only person he could think of would be his uncle… The rest of them would probably throw a party… Well… maybe his former sensei and surviving team mate might grieve the person they had known him as but…

The fact that it cut him, somewhat deeply even, was unsurprising given the fact that it was a very well maintained weapon, although the sudden urge to use it on himself was definitely new. He watched, a little blankly, as the blood dripped from his hand onto the sand, before vanishing down into it. After a few moment of that, he shook himself out of whatever daze he had been in, digging through one of his pouches for a roll of bandages, tearing off a length to wrap the cut with. He flexed his hand, pain radiating from the cut.

He lifted his head to rest his chin on his knees, looking at the shuriken and kunai in the sand. He lifted his hand, manipulating his chakra to make them float. Really, this was more of a game for children- float as many things made of metal as you can, then make them do different patterns. He had them moving in rings, both counter clockwise and clockwise, with the rings making a sphere. He flicking his fingers, making the sphere expand and contract repeatedly. The idea of the game was that it would improve the Jiton user’s ability to multitask- something that became necessary if one wanted to manipulate more than one mass in combat.

Rato gave a startled jump at the sudden voice, his sphere wavering erratically as his heart gave a painful lurch. He exhaled shakily as he realized it was his uncle, as opposed to anyone else. He shrank into the sand at the scolding, mumbling apologetically, “…Sorry. ‘ve never been told not to before.”

The apology was followed by the bitter thought of, ‘You’re the only person who would care.’
He felt the weapons being tugged by another person’s chakra- likely his uncle, given there didn’t seem to be anyone else of their clan in range- and, briefly, considered fighting it and tugging back the weapons with his own chakra, deciding ultimately that he didn’t care enough to pull it back, and let them be taken.

‘Hah. Like they’d let you spend time with me outside the village without them being here.’ He though viciously, then feeling bad about the thought. He shrugged as the man asked him if he wanted to talk, biting his lip before asking, “How has the whole… Kazekage thing been going? Sorry about the fight last week…” He flexed his injured palm, absently worrying about whether his Uncle had seen him do it.