Summary: The Rinnegan was regarded as a god of creation when the world was racked with chaos and as a weapon of destruction which could return everything to nothingness. Now, follow the first user of the venerable doujustu - the Rikudō Sennin - during his life and to his death during the chaos surging throughout the world, centuries before the formation of the Five Great Countries.

Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or any of the concepts, blah, blah, blah.

A/N: Oh jesus, lol. I can't believe I'm writing this. I... can't really say much. Just enjoy this for what it is. As it stands, there's very little information about the Naruto world's history. I'm probably going to tread on some toes and make many people angry, but I want to craft a believable history. In truth, I'm free to craft the world from scratch... almost.

I'm... not sure on the update frequency, but this is the first fic I've seen in this genre. Umbra Witch is still my first project. This is a side-project - an ambitious one - but a side-project nonetheless.

For now, enjoy.

Rikudō Sennin
Prologue: Chaos Land

Merrily, a fire crackled, the crimson embers dancing throughout the night-time chill, the dim light illuminating the mysterious, imposing figure staring into the campfire somberly.

"War..." he whispered, running a calloused hand through his spiky hair, appearing silver in the flickering campfire. His thought were tumultuous. Endless war wrought the land, throwing the once-peaceful times into endless chaos; fathers fought sons over petty disagreements, once-loyal brothers discarding their bonds. Mothers, daughters, sisters, civilians...

No one was safe in this chaos land.

He palmed his forehead and continued to stare into the merrily crackling fire, as if seeking the answers he so sought after in the dancing flames. He sought peace, but man sought war, to plunge the world into a destructive spiral. He was, but one man, a single shinboi versus millions. He grasped the khakkhara in his right hand, the six golden rings jingling softly. What could he do? He travels took him far and wide into across numerous warrior countries, preaching the word of Ninshū - the Shinobi Sect - with little success. Humans were uninterested in his religion, the truth of chakra alluding them. Each town was the same; scorn was brought down swiftly and he was banned from entering several cities all across the countries, but still, he carried on. He sought the stars to guide him, letting his feet guide him on the path to true enlightenment, seeking to bring the winds of change to hundreds of thousand world-weary souls.

A humorless chuckle escaped his mouth. Was it worth it, wasting his time saving people whom didn't wish to be saved? He was cresting on his thirties, wasting several years of his life, traveling from city, to village, to town, trying to spread the ideas of his religion... of chakra, this wonderful source of power contained within all living beings, whether they be creature, human or organism.

'No,' he thought, firming his resolve. People were skeptical and understandably so; chakra was wondrous, amazing. He hadn't believed the origin of chakra when he first discovered it, but he discovered his own, unique power, the merrily dancing flames illuminating his eyes for a brief moment, displaying three black ripples traveling outward from his pupil, surrounding the iris and reaching the sclera before stopping, a gray-purple enveloping both eyes.

The Rin'negan, the Samsara eye. He could see chakra, he could manipulate it seamlessly with little to no practice; even now, as he stared into the crackling flames with his ripple-like eyes, he could see an faint, but unnatural light green tingle tinting the ground, the trees, nature itself. If he didn't have these wondrous eyes, he'd find his own ideals laughable. Mystical energy allowing super-natural feats? It was unheard of. Still, he wanted... no, he needed to convince people, to coax them into believing his otherworldly tales.

It was a hard pill to swallow when people didn't immediately jump upon the idea of peace. His passionate preaching was seen as the ravings of a mad-man, a once pious priest gone insane; even the mysterious Rin'negan hadn't converted disbelievers, many simply believing he was possessed or corrupted by demons. He scoffed at these accusations, but still, he understood. He didn't like it, however, he understood.

"This is a hard pill to swallow," he murmured underneath his breath, listening to the light breeze rustling the forest surrounding him, eyes concentrated upon those bright flames.

He wouldn't relent.

He would continue to spread his ideals until his death bed, if need be. He - the self-proclaimed Rikudō Sennin, Takeda Hitoshi - swore it now.

"Brothers!" exclaimed the robed monk, brandishing his staff high, the six golden rings jingling. "Sisters!" proclaimed the spiky-haired sage, his loud shouts attracting weary crowds. "Heed my now, my friends! The time of your salvation -," at these words, several on-lookers faces twisted from weary to shock and than morphed into disgust, "- is now! I, the Rikudō Sennin, preach the words of Ninshū, to save you from these troubling times! Chakra - a mystical source of energy - exists within us all," shouted the leader of the Shinobi Sect. Interested people now started to leave, disgust twisting their once-pleasant features, shaking their heads as they went.

"You're mad, monk!" bellowed a black-haired samurai, his grip tightening noticeably on his sword. "This energy... This... chakra you speak of, do you have proof, monk?" questioned the warrior, an eerie grin twisting his features. His words caused Hitoshi to frown, running a hand uneasily through his spiky hair.

"Of course, you foolish man. Look into my eyes!" he bellowed, widening his gaze and allowing all the on-lookers to view the ripples present where white should be. People recoiled in surprise and disgust.

"You lie, monk! You're a demon!" ranted the same man, hand grasping the hilt of his katana, turning his knuckles white with pressure. "Your eyes have been mutated by the demons!" exclaimed the warrior, breaking through the crowd with his broad shoulders, the traditional armor he wore clinking as he walked.

"This is no mutation, my fellow man. This is a gift from the gods! I, Takeda Hitoshi, am here to save you from the demons of war! Can't you see what this fighting is doing to our countries? Wives are being widowed constantly, children left without fathers or brothers! This senseless violence needs to cease!" preached Hitoshi, the necklace of magatama jingling as he swayed, six eerie, curved beads threaded through the necklace. Unnoticed, the grip upon his khakkhara tightened, knuckles turning white, preparing himself.

"Leave this place, monk," offered the samurai, unsheathing his katana and holding it aloft, pointing the tip in the direction of the white-robed sage. "I offer you one chance. Leave this town and never return, under the threat of death," said the man. Hitoshi's teeth ground against each other, grip further tightening against his ringed staff.

"I yield... for now, but heed my words: I shall return," he said, suddenly pivoting on his heel, robes billowing about his heels as he strode from the center of the small town he entered not even five minutes previous, the samurai keeping a watchful eye on the disappointed monk.

Another day, another failure.

Returning to his campsite with another failure was a hard pill to swallow, yet again. He proclaimed himself a benevolent savior; years of preaching, of traveling between settlements and he hadn't a single follower or believer in his Ninshū. The concept of chakra seemed to allude the common folk. He needed a method to display this extraordinary energy to the general public. He needed to develop techniques that used chakra visible to the naked eye, not simply to ones blessed by the gods, such as himself.

The question is, how could he make chakra visible to others? He knew it existed within all living beings. He could manipulate the chakra coils within his own body with ease, allowing him temporary boosts to strength and agility for as long as his concentration lasted.

'Well...' he mused, holding his left hand out, palm up and concentrated. With his Rin'negan, he could see a concentration of blue growing bright underneath his palm, but still, no chakra leapt to the surface. He couldn't relinquish control of the doujustsu, but his depth perception stayed top-notch. He shook his hand, the swirling chakra dissipating immediately. What could he do? He needed to make techniques... visible techniques. Channeling didn't help produce chakra in a visible spectrum. He needed a medium through which to manipulate or channel chakra, but what? An object, perhaps? Symbols? Charms? There were so many different possibilities it was almost endless.

It was a small comfort there were such possibilities for this energy, threading his fingers through his spiky, elbow-length hair.

Damn.

'This is harder then I thought,' he mused, a mirthless chuckle escaping from his lips. He felt like screaming to relieve his frustration. 'Trying to bring peace to the world is tough business,' he thought, watching fallen leaves dance in the wind, the breeze jingling the six golden rings tauntingly, jolting the contemplative man from his revere. 'Right. Focus. There's plenty of time for rest later, Hitoshi. For now, figure out a method to display chakra to others,' he thought, firming his resolve, tapping the butt-end of his staff against the dirt, rising from the log he sat upon, starting to pace through the small clearing he resided in.

'Right, from step one: Chakra, what is it?' he thought.

To be honest, he wasn't sure himself. Without the Rin'negan, he'd be just as ignorant as the people he preached to. It took him years of meditation and constant practice after receiving the Rin'negan to discover how to mold chakra within himself, but his persistence prevailed and a chance happening allowed him to discover the method: By molding together two different energies, the physical - called chi - and the mental - called reiatsu - one formed chakra and then, he could use that combined energy to provide himself with enhanced strength and agility. Prolonged use exhausted him both physically and mentally, prompting the wise sage to be cautious when using chakra for an extended period, unwilling to discover what happened when one used too much of each source. Luckily, both his physical and mental training as a monk provided ample reserves for his testing.

Now, what else did he know?

The Rin'negan, the mystical eye. He was a spiritual person and believed this wonderful gift was a sign from the heavens. War and chaos ruled the land. His mutated eyes allowed him to see what other men couldn't; who wouldn't believe this was a gift from a greater power? The ripple-like eyes allowed his vision to see the swirling energies present in humans and this discovery led the once-monk to meditate, to discover how to unlock and use this energy. His goals weren't a hundred percent at the time. Once he learned how to mould chakra, he left the temple he trained at since his teenage years, leaving parting words and an explanation he was destined for quell this chaos. A single look at his mutated eye-sight and a brief explanation of the wondrous energy locked within all sentient creatures allowed him a pardon from the head monk at the time. The rest was history.

'None of this helps!' he thought, frustrated, his pacing growing agitated, the jaunty jingle of his khakkhara's rings further increased these feelings.

Techniques... techniques... techniques! He needed techniques. The question: how would be develop them?

He continued to rack his brain long into the night.

A/N: Whew, that was a dozy, definitely. This chapter isn't too long, even if I prefer writing longer chapters (see: Umbra Witch). This was an introduction to our protagonist and his goals. The sage didn't become a god overnight and bring peace in days. I'm trying not to step on the toes of the Naruto lore, at least, from what we know, which lessens the liberties I can use for this fic. But still, I see it as a challenge and one I'm only too happy to take. Plus, this seemed like a good stopping point. I find the prologue the hardest to write usually.

First, to explain the Rikudō Sennin's name:

His first name - Hitoshi - literally meaning "humanity; virtue; benevolence", which fits the sage's ideals perfectly. His last name - Takeda - translates into "warrior rice field". Benevolent Warrior fits the sage perfectly. The "rice field" part, well... It could translate into "Benevolent Warrior in the rice field", I suppose. Once again, this isn't an official name. If - or when - Kishimoto releases his true name and it's in anyway similar, well, that's a pure coincidence.

As I said before, this is purely a side-project, perhaps updated once every few weeks to a month. I did find this little prologue much more challenging than either three chapters of Umbra Witch.

As always, if I missed spelling or grammar errors, please, don't hesitate to point these out in either a review or private message.

Anyway, 'til next time, Bijuu signing out.