Team Gaman: The Assessment

The sandstorms this morning were milder than usual for this time of year, though, by anyone else’s standards, sandstorms were never mild. Gaman sat among the desert dunes calmly, bending the sands around his body, and leaving a clear path behind him. His students had to get to the location somehow, and though he eventually expected them to be able to navigate in such weather, he currently needed them at their fullest potential. The path stretched for nearly a mile, a singular linear line with walls of sand hailing and flailing around them, almost like a prophetic sea being split in half. Gaman’s arms were folded across one another, requiring not even the motion of his hands to maintain his pathway.

“Really, it’s not bad at all I don’t think,” Gaman begun speaking, seemingly to himself as there were no other people currently around. He paused for a moment as if he was listening to a voice, and then he spoke yet again: “Seriously? I mean, I’m not even using my hands to maintain this one. That’s how not bad at is.”

For as long as anyone could remember, Gaman always spoke to himself. Many of the villagers had just thought he was truly crazy, but Gaara, and the elders knew for other reasons why he was in constant thought and conversation. dwelled deep within him, and Shukaku never, as every one of his Jinchuriki could testify at one point, shut up.

“Look, if I think they are in any real danger, I’ll just stop the entire sandstorm, how does that sound?”

“And I’ll admit that you were right. But if they don’t get in any real danger then you have to….um, I dunno actually. You can’t really offer me much, I don’t think,” Gaman thought deeply.

“Oh, I know! You have to promise to stay out of my dreams, at least for just a week. You always interrupt the best pa-,” Gaman stopped, interrupting himself. His smile widened, and grew more sly and confident.

“It seems that they are approaching. Prepare yourself.”