Shiori. That's the name that was bestowed upon the little girl baby found outside the village gates. Many argued that it should be Shiroi instead for not only her shock of white hair, but also for that fact that she was left out in the heavy snow; a definite sign of an approaching blizzard. The leader of this very tucked away village, a tall, strong man with an air of demanded respect around him, made the final decision that this child shouldn't have to bear such an expected name.

This man's name was Katsuo, which means hero or manly, knew what a nuisance it could be to have such a predictable name. He officially named her Shiori, written as poem or weave. Of course it was no mistake that the letters of her name could be arranged to make Shiroi either.

Little did they know the 'shi' in her name would hold more meaning than anyone bothered to think at the time. Standing all alone 'shi' had the possible meaning of 'death'. Which unfortunately for Shiori, would become very evident in her life.

No one thought too much of the young child. She simply stayed with Katsuo and his wife in the ominous stone castle that presided over the village. None of the villagers saw much of her or knew much about her; she was well known but nonetheless not a very important part of their lives. Not yet at least. So their lives continued on as they normally did.

Inside the castle, things were slightly different. Shiori was taken care of well, but not like a normal child would be taken care of in a normal home. The beginning of her life was a spinning wheel of different caregivers with almost no repeated faces. She rarely saw the faces of what would be her adoptive parents- but as the leaders of a village with as many servants as they liked, that should be expected. Despite the lack of familiar faces though she learned and grew like any other child. If not even better that is.

By the end of her 5th year there she had been taught extreme etiquette, manners, dances, songs, and poems. Learning to read and write had been neglected by most of the caregivers so the young Shiori would be behind on that by our standards. However with servants that could read or write anything the family needed, those skills weren't held as very paramount.

Katsuo didn't expect much from his adoptive daughter.

He certainly didn't expect what he came to find one cold night when he returned from conference that had been held in a small tea house in the town.

His wife was dead. Her neck slashed open and her guts spilling from her. She had been slain in the kitchen, along with the rest of kitchen hands and whatever guards had entered the fray.

Guards were dead everywhere.

Servants were ripped apart and strewn across the walls.

The walls and lavish curtains that hung had black marks on them- the air was thick with the odor of smoke. He could only guess that was from either lightning or fire ninjutsu.

This had to have been done by one of the noble families of the village. They were the only ones permitted to learn any sort of chakara control or ninjutsu. The village was named Village of Swords for a reason- they were the masters of swords. Only if you were a member of one of the four noble families, would you be able to learn these techniques.

Anger bubbled. Betrayal boiled within him. One of the very own people that he protected must have done this.

His plot for utter and savage revenge was interrupted.

"Y-you, sir," one of the guards that had accompanied him into the castle after retrieving spoke, "you ne- need to s- see this." He stumbled over his words like a newborn giraffe stumbles over its legs.

Katsuo remained stony and dared to not give away any of his emotions as the guard led the way. After all he had already seen, Katsuo felt as though nothing could anger or shock him much more.

That's where he was right. What the guard had led Katsuo to didn't shock or anger him at all.

It infuriated him.

Shiori sat in the middle of her room. Alive. She played with her delicate tea set as though everything was right around her. Three chairs were around the table that had a fancy porcelain tea set resting on it innocently. Shiori occupied one seat and a stuffed bunny and stuffed bear occupied the other two. They looked innocent. Everything there looked just innocent.

Around her though…

Katsuo couldn't believe his eyes.

The amount of blood on the walls and floor wasn't innocent. It was as though someone had attempted to paint the whole room the crimson substance.

"Of course Mr. Fluff," Shiori spoke softly to the animals as she stood to bow, "You can have more tea! It's my job to serve the guest!" She tipped the intricately painted teapot and poured them some more imaginary tea.

Suddenly noticing the silent crowd that was observing her with mouths agape, she turned to them and bowed, "Welcome home father!" She looked at him and smiled innocently, "Would you like some tea as well?"