Good Grief [Open]

t was but a single day after the Kage Tournament and the attack from the chakra behemoths known as the One Tail and the Seven Tail. Unusual silence hadn't rested, but smothered the village with its depressing weight. The death toll was high and many worthy shinobi were amongst these numbers of lost souls. Having caught a glimpse of one who could presumably be the leader of these Bijuu, Sachio hadn't been able to sleep a wink. His muse for art was nonexistent as well, to the contrary of what one would think after seeing such extraordinary things, but he still found himself searching for the will to paint something, anything. Unlike most days, Sachio wasn't wearing the Arm of Destruction, instead he wore an black short kimono, an army green haori with long sleeves, black shinobi pants, shinobi sandals, and of course for protection his Scroll of the Desert. Though he doubted anyone would attack him after such a major happening, as a shinobi he was obligated to be prepared to defend himself at a moments notice. He also had with him a single sketch pad and a pencil to log anything that came to him while he roved about the sands.

Where he was, was the destruction site or what was previously the arena for the tourney. As the sand crunched underneath each of his steps he could feel the emotions of those who died, the emotions the felt right before their annihilation. He exhaled lightly, anxiety and anticipation for nothing specific weighing on his being, such an odd feeling. For once in his life, Sachio actually felt lost. He always knew there were beings far more powerful than him in the world, far more cruel, but he never imagined witnessing their power would be like this. He felt small and feeble in the grand scheme of things, but he couldn't remain as such.

Dusk would be upon him in an hour, but for now the sky was a shade of blue that worked to calm him. It was dark and seemed endless, a few stars were still visible in the sky as well, but no sun or moon hung over head just yet. All around him was sand or rather the result of the explosion that had killed so many citizens and ninja. He was alone for the time was like a beacon of light during his restless night. Calling him and dragging him out of his home for no reason what so ever. It just felt like he should be here and that's why he had came, that's why many others would come too. It just seemed like the right thing to do, but why?

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