Pakura stood atop the boundary wall of the village, as the air lensed in front of her eyes, magnifying the image of the two figures on the platform of sand hovering above the now deserted village.

She observed the man who had appeared out of nowhere and enslaved her village and the traitor of a Kazekage who had bent to his will.

Red and gold hair glinted under the sun, framing a face almost inhuman in its perfection. The square jaw and prominent nose gave his eerily symmetrical visage a masculine cast. His sculpted body, too perfect to ever appear on a mortal, moved with a sinuous grace as he clapped his hands with undisguised glee.

Then, he waved his hands and the desert responded to his call.

Pakura had to adhere her feet to the ground with chakra to keep her balance as the entire village quaked.

The foundations of the village, constituted of sand compressed to stone by the efforts of generations of sand shinobi, shattered as pillars of sand rose from all parts of the village.

After the pillars took shape, an even stronger tremor ran through the village as a huge oppression covered it.

The sand outside the boundary wall seethed with excitement as it gathered in a huge wave that slammed against the wall.

She had to leap off the crumbling structure and retreat into the desert as the roiling sand eroded and assimilated the mortar.

Her palms were moistened with sweat and her body was shivering at the monstrous display of might. Was this what she had to fight against to free her village.

The disparity in strength made her despair.

The torrent of sand finally broke through the blockade of the wall and gushed into the village proper.

She felt her cheeks grow moist from her tears as she watched the familiar streets and shops disintegrate in the onslaught.

She cried as the village she had sworn to protect was destroyed.

Anger and sorrow cut through her fear as the sand submerged the graveyard, desecrating the resting place of the heroes who had offered up their lives for the village.

Some of whom she had fought alongside. Some of whose cold bodies she had brought back to the village personally. Two of whom had brought her into this world.

She recast her sensory jutsu and trained her hate-filled gaze on the Kazekage who had stood by and allowed this travesty to occur.

When the order for the evacuation had been announced, she had been excited at the prospect of this being the prelude to a decisive battle against the monster.

Her hopes had been dashed when she had spied upon the two of them standing on the platform harmoniously.

Desperate, she had sent her message to the Kazekage, hoping that the monster saw it and grew suspicious of him.

She wanted it to spark a conflict between them, forcing the Kazekage to oppose it, giving her an opportunity to rally the entirety of the shinobi forces and resist the monster.

She hadn’t expected him to hand over the letter directly to curry favour with it.

As she watched the desert swallow down the last signs of her homeland, she clenched her teeth so hard, her gums bled. She was a ninja, enduring was their creed.

Her eyes blazed with determination. She would endure in silence till she was powerful enough for vengeance.

The monster waved his hand yet again and the world changed.

At the very centre of the razed village, a large square of sand rose. With a turn of his wrist, it was compacted into a slab of sandstone.

He waved his arms like a conductor at an orchestra and the sand was at his beck and call.

Progressively smaller squares of sandstone emerged on the block, creating a nine layered staircase.

On top of the final square emerged a sandy pagoda, which too had nine stories.

With another flick of his wrist, the entire construction burnt.

The flames licked it from the inside to the outside, fusing the sand into a crystalline glass.

As the flames died out, the rays of the sun refracted through the building. It was as if a butterfly had emerged from its drab cocoon, brightening the world with its resplendent glory.

The staircase was still made of sandstone, except for the four corners of each layer which had been fused by the heat into a greenish glass. The pagoda was a pure transparent crystal.

A perfect blend of the ostentatious and the mundane.

Harmony in contradiction.

Centred on this magnificence, palatial constructions of sand emerged all over the ruins of the village.

Markets, roads, schools, hospitals… a flick of his wrist, a swish of his arm and they were there.

It was hypnotizing watching him work as he built up a settlement from scratch. A consummate display of power and finesse.

As she watched a new village… nay, a city, replace her homeland, a deep sense of confusion welled up within her.

He had callously trampled over the dignity of those who had paid in blood for the village and removed the spiritual repose, every Suna soldier held in his or heart as they went to battle, off the face of the earth.

Yet, he was replacing it with something better.

She couldn’t decide whether or not to hate him for it.

No one who could make something so beautiful could be truly evil, could they?