Once upon a time, many years ago, a man became known to the world.
He was known as the Sage of the Sixth Paths, and he traveled throughout all countries spreading the religion now known as Ninjutsu.
This man so believed in peace, he desired and sought for it; it was his greatest wish.
But as anyone knew, peace was not something so easily found. It was an elusive deity, a secret place hidden within all the war.
The Sage could feel it calling in his blood, he could feel it lurking around the edges, just beyond reach. But he hoped and searched for a way to capture it, up until he couldn't anymore.
When his body started to weaken, and he found himself confined to his bed, he knew that he had pick a successor to continue the search for peace.
His eldest son, who had inherited the Sage's eyes, believed power was the answer; while the younger son, who had inherited the Sage's body, believed it was love.
The Sage agreed with his younger son and chose him, igniting the first sparks in a war that would one day, drag the whole world into it.
The eldest son was furious, and in his fierce anger, attacked his brother.
The Sage, despite being old and weary, could feel this from where he lay. He cursed his son for his bitterness and wept salty tears for the future of world he was about to leave.
For all the power and wisdom he had acquired through his long life, nothing could fix the mess he'd be leaving behind… that was what he was thinking until a soft knock on his bedroom door surprised him. He bade them come in.
A young woman entered in, she was slight and pale, dripping wet from the rain that must have been pouring down from the clouds he couldn't see.
In her arms, she had a small bundle of blankets.
Despite her weak appearance, the woman had a fiery desperation in her eyes, she came up to the Sage's bedside and fell to her knees.
He could now see that the bundle in her arms was a baby, small and feeble, it's veins showing through translucent skin.
The baby was dying, the Sage could tell from it's labored breaths against it's mother's chest. He raised his eyes to meet the dark orbs of the woman beside him, asking what she needed.
"Strength," she answered, her voice steady and strong, "She was born too early, she is sick and weak. She won't live much longer unless you do something."
The Sage was surprised at this woman, asking for something like this. She didn't know what she was saying.
"What do you want me to do?" His voice was a dry whisper.
"You're going to die soon," she said, though her tone was without malice, "Save her with what power you have. Do what you must to make her strong."
"Strength is a heavy burden to bear, you don't know what you ask." He replied quietly, but even as he spoke, an idea was growing in his mind.
"Then give her the power to bear it!" She cried, "You're going to leave us without a savior, and we're going to fall into war once again."
"You would charge your child with that fate?" The Sage's voice held an odd tone, but the woman didn't notice, she only pursed her lips tightly before speaking again.
"Give her strength."
The man nodded his head and held his hands out to touch the baby. He placed a palm on her forehead and gave a long, tired sigh.
Everything was still for a moment, before the Sage's eyes flashed open, burning white. The woman screamed and tried to fall back, but she was frozen to the spot.
The baby suddenly cried out as well, shocking the young mother, because her baby had been silent from the moment she had given birth. She watched in horror as the baby's eyes opened, showing her the same blinding white as the old man.
Thin spider web-like lines wove themselves over the baby's exposed skin, almost like they were burning themselves into her veins. A white hot patch of light gathered on the child's stomach, flashing so brightly that the woman couldn't see anything for a moment before it disappeared.
When her vision returned, the baby was gone and the Sage lay weakly on his bed, his strength drained. He looked peaceful despite the hysteria growing in the pit of her own stomach.
"My baby?" She cried, "Where's my baby? What have you done?"
"That child will never die, life itself rests within her," he replied, "Bodies will rot and decay, but this spirit will go on until it's no longer needed. She'll be hated and misunderstood wherever she goes; doors will not open to welcome her. People will fear her presence, and go out of their way to avoid her touch.
But when the world becomes desperate and the hatred is too great to bear, she will be sought out and used and through her touch, the world will find rest for a short while longer."
The woman listened in horror at what this man said, at what would become of her child and even though there were things she didn't understand, she could feel the gravity of what had just happened.
She screamed her rage at the dying man, "I didn't want this! Bring her back to me!"
But there was nothing the Sage could do anymore. He had no strength left in his tired body.
With a whisper of a smile tugging at his pale lips, he died, leaving the young mother alone in her despair.