Partisan — Roleplayer Guild

Kami Suucho

Kami slowly buttoned up the traditional, very dark-black button up kimono styled top. The only thing that was more dark than the top was the black band around his arm, covering his shinobi forehead protector. He turned around and made himself ready to carry the casket to the front, telling himself that his fallen colleagues had earned the right to be avenged. They didn't deserve this. None of them. He glanced at Kariru, a feeling of empathy creeping over him as he realized that she had been the medical shinobi on duty during that mission. She must feel awful.

Kami had offered to go, as well, but was required elsewhere for more pressing matters. But now it seemed like none of that had mattered, as if nothing was more pressing than the death of his fellow Granite Guardsmen. Slowly and subtly he positioned himself next to Hirorama's casket, though the rest of the Guardsmen seemed to be so far into their own world that they barely noticed him. On command, the caskets were lifted and carried into the ceremonial area. A large crowd had gathered to remember these fallen heroes. Kami realized now that he hadn't even dared to look at Hirorama in his casket. He wasn't sure he dared to.

But he did. Death looks terrifying if it's someone you knew, someone that you cared for. His body seemed stiff, white, cold. Kami looked to the front again, trying to surpress the tears. But he wasn't Hiruzen or Saisho -- Shinobi that seemed uncapable of human emotions to Kami, always analyzing their fellow shinobi or fighting them. But it seemed that today even Hiruzen felt some.. remorse for the loss of their companions. Perhaps not shown in tears, but Kami could read it from his face. He was clearly thinking about things that didn't usually trouble him.

The caskets were placed on a podium and Kami took some distance, as he didn't feel like saying or giving the deceased anything. It would've been wrong of him to do so -- there were others more hurt by their loss. Again he glanced at Kariru, who was now obviously shedding tears. And he glanced at Hiruzen, whom was also shedding a tear or two. A moment long, or perhaps a moment too long, Kami contemplated who was the real victim here. The fallen heroes, who shall be forever remembered. Or those that they left behind, such as Saberu, Kariru and Hiruzen. He shook away the thoughts. It was obvious to everyone that they were both victims, the ones left behind forced to feel like they were supposed to have made it better. Again, he glanced at Kariru. Maybe those feelings were the worst for her.

Saberu's monument turned out to be a beautiful symbolism, something Kami could appreciate. He finished his speech, and bowed before the monument, and as if someone had given the order, everyone bowed at the exact same time, for the exact same length of time it seemed. Almost. Because Kami bowed for a moment longer as he mumbled his thanks to the fallen soldiers of Iwagakure. True sacrifice lies in death, he muttered finally, before finally straightening himself back up again.

After all, nothing else was more valuable than life.

Kanajiro Hanamoto

Kanajiro stood amongst the others of his clan -- silent, respectful, mourning. Many had red eyes from the crying, including Kanajiro. As the caskets passed, many bowed their heads and said a few last words for the fallen. Kanajiro spoke softly, stating that the Gods favor those who protect others. He straightened his head and watched the caskets being put on the podium. Somehow, it seemed peaceful, as if they were finally resting from a life of death, blood and murder. Perhaps they were. Only they themselves would know.

The Tsuchikage spoke words of people that would stab the two Granite Guardsmen in the back, of them being Martyrs of everything the village would endure. And none could deny that the Tsuchikage was right when he said this -- Hirorama and Rei were truly amazing Shinobi who had given all they had to the village and expected nothing back. Kanajiro had had the opportunity to train with Hirorama once, and had spoken with Rei at another point in time. From both those moments it became clear that they were a class above most shinobi, something better and more pure.

And yet, they lay here, in a casket, in a monument. Slain by the enemy, nothing to do about it. Word of the mission had spread through the village quickly. They were dead, lost to the blade of some no-name foe, a lucky shinobi who would be perceived as a hero by their village. It was funny that whenever a hero dies, another rises somewhere else. Likely they had a ceremony right now, too, in the name of 'the Granite Killer.' A war hero they'd call him, while here Iwagakure stood -- burying their sister and brother, their companions and friends, their heroes.

He bowed like the others when the Tsuchikage did, then left for home once the ceremony was over. His body ached, and he wanted to be alone. The group of Hanamoto's dispersed, leaving at the same time together, but heading for different directions after that.

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Partisan Banned

Vuurvos Dion

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