Prologue
Verismo Minor
The night sky was a deep blue and purple and every now and again the silent atmosphere would boom with bright oranges and yellows. Over a hundred miles away destruction erupted from the earth, as if artillery was being lit off every expectant moment. Seconds later the ambient thundering crash came, like the explosions were but in arms reach of the silent village. Otogakure, a creation out of a madman's dream and hopes of some distorted form of terrorism. For the village keying its name from sound, the only intonation was the thundering of the Kyuubi in a far off land. In the hideout village within the Land of Rice Fields the same destruction is about to meet the less than innocent village of the hidden Sound.
As the Kyuubi's roars and deafening destruction to it's surroundings subsided and finally calmed into nothingness, the underground of Otogakure inherited such pain from their distant neighbor. Cries of pain echoed across the dark corridors, screams of agony stretched and overshadowed throughout every corner. Men and women shouted in worship Orochimaru's name, one of the three Legendary Sennin. In the darkest depths of the underground dungeon were prisoners, some completely mutated, others missing limbs from obvious failed experiments. There lied the bane of Orochimaru, the existence of his constant failures to achieve is seemingly impossible goal. There Orochimaru kept them in seclusion, as punishment for not molding into a proper creation, for being proof of his incompetence.
In the interconnected crypt passage ways blood seemed to flood and stain the dirt walls and floor. Surges of chakra evacuated life and soul from those who got in the way of it. As the night evolved all seemed to become silent again.
Except. Except for a single murmuring cry that would have gone unheard, unattended, and thus become unliving. The crying grew louder as the shadowy figure could trace the screams and the faint chakra. The prison lair had no door way, it was but sealed off. The wall gave in from a single kick, the foul stench of death, defecation, and probably even cannibalism almost surged corporeal disgust from the shadows. A single infant seemed to survive the chaos. A child whose lullaby into the Shinobi world was cries of anguish, who thankfully was enveloped in shadows as to not witness the shocking damage caused by Sennin Orochimaru. The same Orochimaru whose body laid dilapidated in a random section.
"I have no words..." the voice of the shadow lifted the child up. "A boy, I have no name that could honor anything that has happened tonight." The shadow held the tiny infant to his chest as he crawled out of the bloodshed; hiding the child's eyes. As the shadow lifted his head through a trap door in the ground he was instantly met with heavy rain. The rain felt like a blessing as it washed away the filth he had to endure, he also felt it wash away the betrayal he had felt. Lightning rose up to the heavens, flaring blue and white light across the shadow – Jiraiya.
He wiped his hand into the muddy puddles in the ground, washing away the blood and massacre from his fingertips and palms. He cupped a hand into the puddle and lifted it, washing the filth from the child's face. His cries seemed to fade in and out from the crashing thunder above. Jiraiya thought: The gods too must wash clean the Earth that has endured so much in one night. His mind seemed to be clogged with reflection and now the brooding over what to do with the child. He could only imagine what Orochimaru had experimented on his now deceased parents. Taking the child to Konohagakure would be out of the question, he could not link himself to the destruction and loss of control of the underground hideouts known as Otogakure.
Emotions befuddled him, he knew his pupil no longer resided on this plane. Even knowing the inevitable answer, he continued attempting to sense his chakra, but he couldn't even re-imagine the sensational chakra his pupil once had. Even his wife seemed a distant cry away. And now, now the child of all the destruction, born into the ambiance of death. Jiraiya slipped into the shadows with the baby boy, he decided to separate from him, to never stain his life with anymore harm than he has already endured, to severe any relation from the child from his origination; in a prison lair meant to be a shallow and painful death.