Authors note: This is an original character fanfiction in the Naruto universe. I wrote this fanfiction a very long time ago (like, over 6 years ago. I was a wee child). It wasn't finished, but now after reading it again myself I want to try and at least continue it. If you have any problems with the way it is written or the information that's in it, whether accurate or not, I do not care. I don't have the time nor energy to bother with it. I just want to finish it, for myself, and for my close friends who remember when I first came up with the idea.

Discaimer: I do not own Naruto

...

He couldn't place his finger on it. That is, until they cornered him.
They were so much bigger than himself, the two of them. They had broad noses and little round eyes that made it look like they were squinting at you, and they probably were.

"Well, squirt, you have somethin' to say?" came the assertive voice of the boy in front of him. The tips of Echiko's fingers grazed the unrelenting surface of a stone wall behind him, and a chill swept up his spine. A smile played on the bigger boy's fat lips. He glanced from one opponent to the other who both towered over him, a head taller and broader than himself, with the flat noses and round eyes of the commoners here that were so different than his own.
They had cut off either way out of the narrow alley, so his chances of slipping away were slim.
"So this kid's the so-called 'freak'?" the taller bully leaned in. "Doesn't look like much. Hey-" he poked Echiko's arm, "you're a shinobi's child, right?" He pulled off the hat Echiko had covering his head and exclaimed, "Dude! He's got blue hair!"
"Stop it, Kunio," the second boy pushed aside his friend. "I don't care whether he's a freaking ninja or not. He's a thief and deserves to be punished. Isn't that right, refugee boy?" He spat, as if the refugees were nothing but dirt.
"I'm sorry..." Echiko was tense, heart beating rapidly in his chest as beads of sweat formed on his pale skin. They weren't supposed to know. Who... who told them?
"Pfft, sure you are. Now had it over." He replied. "Unless, of course, you want me to take what you stole by force."
Defiance flickered over Echiko's face and for an instant their eyes locked. But that's when the boy called Kunio boy moved in.
Echiko felt himself pushed into the damp earth, face down, his arms pinned uncomfortably against his back with the boy on top of him. "Hey-ho, time's up!" He smiled. "Won't you let me have fun with him, Shoji?"
"You take too long. This cripple isn't worth it, anyway. He couldn't run away even if we let him." Shoji sneered.
The small sack of hard biscuits Echiko had been defending this whole time was easily ripped from his hand and inspected, only to be tossed aside into the snow like a worthless toy. "What? That's all you got? Geez this was a waste." The weight lifted from his back and pain erupted from his gut as Shoji kicked him backwards.
"Aren't you supposed to be some shinobi's kid? Worthless." Kick. "Hm, how can you make up for the time we wasted with you, eh?" The toe of his boot cracked against Echiko's jaw, and his expression brightened. "Oh, I know!"
Kunio looked on with amusement. "Huh?"
Before Echiko could manage to sit up, blood dripping from his mouth and nose, his left leg was yanked out from beneath him along with a "...wonder if this thing comes off". It was a crudely sanded wooden peg and metal foot-piece, tightly held together with its metal brace strapped around the smaller boy's cut-off limb.
Echiko's eyes suddenly widened. "N-no, please! S-stop!" But his pleading only caused Shoji to laugh. "It's not healthy to be so attached... here, let me help you out!"
With a burst of strength Shoji propelled himself 180 degrees, ripping the thin leather straps from the leg he held with his other hand until the whole brace came flying off.
Echiko gasped, catching himself hard on his elbows and palms. Immediately raising his head, he cried, "Give that b-back!"
"Oh? Why should I do that?" The boy asked incredulously. "This is a piece of junk, just like you. Hey, if you want it back so bad, then come and take it!"
White hot tears were beginning to raid his vision as Echiko stumbled to his knees, soaked and numb with bruises. "You... don't un-understand..." The bandage wrapped around his leg had become partly unraveled and stained with dirty snow, revealing deep scars running up and down the limb until it abruptly cut off to nothing under the knee. Blood still speckled the bandages as if the wound had closed up recently.
"Dude, that's nasty," Kunio, who had been watching, declared. Shoji rolled his eyes.
"So you've lost a leg. Big Deal." He hefted his arm back and flung the brace over the wall and out of sight with an apathetic sigh. "C'mon, man, let's get out of here."
"But I still wanna see why he's called a freak!" Kunio pouted as he squat before their prey. "Show me what you got, eh?"
"J-just leave me alone!" came the whimpered answer.
He frowned, about to say something more, when his friend grabbed him by the shirt. "Dude, somebody's coming! Let's go!"
"Oh, uh..." The other boy blinked. "What about-"
"Just leave the wimp, he'll manage!" For some reason anger rose in the tone he was trying to keep disinterested, but he quickly marched out of the alleyway leaving his friend no choice but to follow. Kunio cast one last look at the small boy lying in the snow before he was pulled around the corner.
And the snow continued to fall.

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Echiko rubbed his teary eyes angrily. Why does this have to happen? White blurred his vision, clinging to his eyelashes and the ends of his unusual dark blue hair. His limbs felt heavy and cold, as if buried under layers of snow. Why am I so weak?
His gaze finally wandered to the couple of hard pieces of bread scattered beside him. And all for a few biscuits... He crawled to gather them back into the sack.
"At your throat once more, are they?" This new voice was scratchy and familiar, causing Echiko to raise his head.
The old man stood in the middle of the alleyway, yellowed strands of gray hair sticking up from his mostly bald head, dressed in a worn and frayed winter cloak. His wrinkled eyes glittered as he held in his hand Echiko's wooden leg that had been thrown over the wall.
"...It's nothing," Echiko mumbled, dusting off his biscuit.
"Heh! Is that so?" Masahiro eyed the bruises covering the boy's pale skin. "You didn't fight back?"
"No..."
The old man nodded, bones creaking as he moved next him. "Good, that's good. I'm sorry about this, Echiko-kun."
Echiko took the brace from his knobby hands and winced as he strapped the binds over the bandaged leg, tightening them as much as he could.
But the old man shook his head. "You must understand these villagers aren't used to your kind around here, child. The name of shinobi are known far and wide, both good and bad, and it is the poor folk who know that all too well. But your father was a good man... yes, a good man." He paused when Echiko slipped onto his feet and handed him the sack.
"It's bread," the boy said simply. He finally looked into the old man's eyes, but all he saw was pity. It was always the same.
"I'm not afraid," Echiko said softly.
"Hm, is that so."
Echiko scrunched his face."I'm going for a walk."
"Now Echiko-kun..." But the boy turned away, and he watched his limping form fade into the growing dusk as a chill wind swept through the alleyway. He shook his graying head once more.

Leaves rustled restlessly in the breeze, a thin mist shrouding the rice fields as night closed in around the village. Echiko padded quietly through the trees, their branches drooping with fresh snow, aiming for a little knoll far from the prying eyes of the villagers. There he sat, huddled in his coat, watching his breath dissipate in the crisp air. He looked at his palms, remembering what one of the boys had said before they ran off. "So he's the so-called 'freak'?... You're a shinobi's kid, right?"
So what if I'm from a shinobi clan!? Why does that make me any worse than the rest of you? He punched his fist into the wet dirt. I hate this! This is exactly what happened in that other village. They cast him and all the other refugees out because they didn't want "trouble" dealing with "the likes of ninja."
The refugees were just commoners, peasant folk who managed to survive the devastation of Murakami village, looking for a place to rebuild their lives again! They all either hate or pity him, now. He could see it in their faces, their cold eyes and tight lips, as if he was a burden and a nuisance to have tagging along.
Even old man Masahiro... A hardness reflected in Echiko's dark gray eyes. He didn't really know why the old man helped him, except for his father's sake, but it didn't feel like it was genuine sympathy. He couldn't recall ever seeing him in their old village, Murakami, but then again, Echiko was hardly ten years old. His memory only stretched so far.
He gazed at his hands again. It was dark enough now that he could only see their vague outlines traced against the background of white snow. Drawing upon some of his energy, he set his hands in memorized positions and warmed himself with a breath of hot air. This is why he was called a freak. He sighed.
The village lanterns twinkled in the twilight beyond the covering of trees, and far past that he knew was a mountain range, from which they had painstakingly journeyed from. The place where he was born.
The place where his family died.
Echiko rose, dusting the snow from his garments, and walked back down the hill, the darkness not heeding him at all. He wound his way through the farmer's huts and down a small, dry ravine, finding himself in the midst of a colony of tents made from canvas and animal skins. Many fires were distributed throughout the camp where the refugees were gathered, eating hot soup cooked in large cauldrons hung over the fires.
Like a shadow Echiko avoided the flickering light, though warm, knowing he would not be welcome there. Unconsciously he touched his bruised jaw, still feeling pain from the kicks he received earlier there and to the gut. The hot soup didn't even look good tonight.
At the farthest end of the ravine was a single tent, rather separated from the others and snuggled between the rock, hardly noticeable when not looking for it. His metal brace clicked repetitively as he stepped with his left foot toward it, but the noise was lost in the night air and he retreated into the shelter. Blankets, piled thick, rested on two thin mats made of straw, on top of which sat a tray with one of his biscuits and a bowl of luke-warm stew. Masahiro-san...
He changed into a worn yukata and laid out his wet coat and clothes to dry, glancing at the food again. It was strange the old man wasn't already in his futon sleeping, but perhaps he was among the others by the fire. The night was particularly cold.
Gently he set aside the tray and huddled underneath his blanket, staring blankly at the roof of the tent. Would he ever get out of this place? His heart thumped slowly in his chest as he bat painful memories away. He wouldn't think of them. It's been two months since it all happened, and all he's done is survive. A numbness clung to his bones, a paralyzing feeling, as if he was floating in a sea of darkness. He was always conscious of the limb he lost, bringing him back to that day, that moment, over and over again.
His mother would cry if she saw him now. His beautiful mother... he pictured her in her traditional kimono, long blue hair bundled up in a thick bun, striking eyes and delicate smile gently chiding him and his twin sister for getting into something they weren't supposed to. His twin's curiosity always got the better of her. She was so different from him... so brave, so strong.
She should've survived...
And Father... Father was...

"…Father," I gasped. "I can't… train… anymore."
His cold gray eyes bore down on me with disappointment. "Hm. That is enough for today, then. Go get washed up." His tone was even colder.
I guiltily watched his rigid back retreat into the forest, and the pain in my chest refused to subside. The river was a stone's throw away. I rolled over, panting heavily, and buried my sweaty face in the cool water.
Why can't I do it? Why am I so weak?
My hands trembled, but I managed to lift myself onto my knees and stared blurrily at the mid-afternoon sun. Time never felt so slow as when I was training. I heard new footsteps tromping in my direction, and soon my little sister came into view. Her sing-song voice rang out clearly.
"Nii-san! (brother)" Her chubby arms held a package to her chest as she skipped gaily to my side. "You look awful, twin. I wish Father wouldn't train you so hard, yeah?"
"He's only doing… what's necessary," I responded wearily. If I don't get stronger, I'll never be able to master our clan's ancient summoning, I added to myself. Of course I didn't tell her that, not wanting her to worry over it.
"I just don't understand," she continued in her lively tone, spreading her skirt and laying out the snacks she brought him. "Everybody knows you're not built for it – no offence, brother – so why can't I train instead, yeah?"
"You know what Father says…"
She pouted. "Father says 'in our clan girl's have special duties as well as the men'. I don't consider cooking and cleaning 'special duties'."
"…Be careful you don't say that in front of him."
"Well too late, I already have, yeah!"
I blinked. My twin never ceased to amaze me.
"But it was weird… he didn't say anything," she said, her gaze following the river. "I thought he'd rebuke me, but he just made this face and walked off." Her attempt at his expression failed miserably, but I got the gist of it. It was an expression I saw often in his eyes… disappointment, regret. Probably because he wished our roles were switched.
A cloud of gloom fell over me and caught her off guard. "Hey! Don't get sullen on me! I came all this way to bring you snacks, so be grateful, yeah."
I looked at her hair braided off to the side, its black shine unusual in our blue-haired family, and her childish grey eyes stared at me with concern.
"I… am grateful, of course…" I muttered. "Thank you."
"Humph. You better be." She chewed on a piece of dried deer meat. "Oh, by the way, you know what Mother said about the trail up the Mountain? She said not long ago it was the very same road that our family used to settle in this valley. Did you know that?"
"Yes."
"Of course it's mostly eroded now, but wouldn't it be fun to go explore it? I bet we'd find all kinds of treasures along the way!"
"…Maybe some other time, imouto (sister)…" I stood, shaking the achiness off. "I have to continue training."
"But Echi- you, you can't! You should rest!"
"Please…"
Her voice faded, but I didn't turn around to look at her face. I began practicing my stances without another word, hoping she'd just leave me alone.
Scuffle. My ear hardly caught her soft response.
"…Yeah, of course… be careful, Echi."

There was a commotion going on in the village above the ravine where the refugees camped. Echiko slowed his pace, shifting the large bundle of damp firewood in his arms, as he noticed many of the village folk whispering to each other, looking off in the direction of the only inn and tavern in town. Coming closer, he tuned his ears to try and catch the conversation of a group of warmly dressed farmers standing at the edge of a snow covered field.
"...and he just strolled in like nobody's business and started askin' questions!"
"Typical," one replied.
"What does he want?" another asked the first man.
"He was a' wondering about the refugees, like he's got some interest with them."
"Knew they were trouble when they came here..."
"Now I'm sure it's not as bad as we think," said one, trying to alleviate the fowl mood of his companions. "Perhaps the ninja is looking for surviving relatives – we can't assume he's here to do us any harm."
"Humph. That's what you said about the last one! And he made off with our rice and goats."
They moved away and out of earshot, leaving a confused Echiko with his thoughts. Did that man say... a ninja? A shinobi is here in the village? The wood weighed heavily on his limbs, forcing him to set them down on the dirt path.
Who was he? What was he here for? His mind raced for an answer. The village elder was probably speaking to him now, but it seemed from the way the farmers glared at the inn the traveler must be staying there. Echiko frowned at himself. Why am I even interested? Just because he may be a shinobi doesn't mean anything. It's not like he's going to have answers for you...
Echiko stacked the wood back in his arms again, glancing at the mid-morning sun barely visible through the haze. It wouldn't hurt to investigate a little.
After adding his wood to the pile set to dry in the ravine, he skipped up the steep slope, almost slipping with his replacement foot in the mud. The inn wasn't very big, set right in between the huts as if it always belonged there. Its lanterns were lit because of the haze, so to Echiko it appeared almost to glow as he neared, and he cringed slightly. What if the tavern-woman remembered him? He did make off with some of her biscuits the other day, though he was sure he hadn't been spotted until those two boys pinned him in the alley.
The back door seemed like the least obvious route to take, and surprisingly the small wooden entrance was unlocked. One step inside, he raised his hand to block out the bright lantern directly above his head when suddenly he was grasped firmly by the wrist and pulled blindly forward. "Now I've caught you, you little...!" came the low growl of a stockily built woman dressed with a long apron over her plain dress. Echiko realized his mistake a little too late.
"I-I didn't do anything!" he whimpered, but her threateningly narrow eyes already changed to puzzlement as she looked him up and down.
"Oh, well now! Who do we have here? You aren't the boy I was aiming to catch," she said, a hand on her wide hip, holding his wrist in the air like a wind toy. "Are you here to steal my bread too?"
"N-no! No, I-I..." Echiko panicked. "I wanted... I wanted to know a-about the shinobi st-staying here?"
Why she burst out laughing, Echiko had no clue. "Oh, dear boy," she breathed. "Never in my life would I let one of those vagabonds stay in my inn! No indeed. I told that ninja man to take his business elsewhere. Even threatened to feed him to the pigs, I did! Haha!" She finally let go of Echiko's hand, bending down to his level so he'd look in her eyes.
"Listen, child, for your own sake don't involve yourself with the likes of them, you understand? It's just not worth it. There's always another agenda with them, shady folk." She proceeded to pat him on the head. "Now run along! I have a tavern to manage!"
Echiko, however, still needed to know one thing. "B-but, why was he here? What was he looking for?"
The woman blinked at him. "My, so many questions! I can't say for sure, but he seemed to have been traveling for some time in search of someone, a family of shinobi-folk. I told him we don't harbor people like that in our village, but he kept pestering my customers about it. Ah well! He's gone now, don't worry your little head about it."
He's gone now? Rushed back out the door, Echiko absentmindedly wandered throughout the village, wondering what family that shinobi could possibly be searching for. The only ninja clan joined with the village of Murakami in the mountains was his own, from what he understood. Could it be possible this man really was searching for him then?
Maybe he doesn't know Father is dead. This shinobi could be an old friend of his father's, or an archenemy wanting to learn of his fate. He shivered. Maybe he didn't want to find this ninja. But either way he was looking for Echiko's family, and since he is the only one left... it fell to him to deal with it. He wouldn't let any of the villagers get mixed up in his clan's issues, no matter if it meant leaving himself.
It was two days later Echiko heard mention of the ninja again, and from an unlikely source. Early every morning old man Masahiro would milk the few goats kept penned up on their side of the ravine, and Echiko would help him catch and hold them still as he worked, emptying the fresh milk into jars. He held the most stubborn doe by the rope around her neck, rubbing her forehead reassuringly, and looked to the old man as he knelt with the pan to catch the milk.
"...Is something wrong?" he ventured to ask, seeing the elder did not move.
"That shinobi..." he said distantly. "You should go with him."
The abruptness of his suggestion caught Echiko off guard.
"What-what do you mean, Masahiro-san?"
There was a pause, yet the old man did not turn to meet his questioning eyes. "It is better for you, if you leave here. You will be happier in a place where you can be accepted as you are."
"I...don't understand..." Was Masahiro casting him off onto this stranger? Is he finally getting tired of the reproachful looks he receives for taking care of him? He never seemed bothered by them before. And even if that were true, why so suddenly...? The ninja left days ago!
"The shinobi... he came here yesterday," Masahiro clarified. "He asked about your family. He had hoped they were still alive, and was very grieved to hear what had happened." And then he placed a withered hand on Echiko's shoulder. "You have a relative in Konohagakure willing to take you in, Echiko-kun! You mustn't let this chance go."
But Echiko's mind was reeling from this news. Relative? He could only think of one person.
"H-how do you know this ninja is-is telling the truth?" He asked, not that he disbelieved him. Only she never sent word, not once, since she left. He was so angry at her, and she didn't seem like she cared. So why look for the family she left behind now? Father said she was dead to us.
"When he comes again, you will discern for yourself," was all Masahiro answered, and he began milking once more.

The silence between them was nerve-wracking. As soon as he was able, Echiko darted from the goat pen, not wanting to speak anymore to the old man. A familiar tenseness rose in his chest, one sometimes he felt he bore since as long as he knew how to walk and speak. It was the feeling of not being wanted.
So preoccupied in his thoughts, Echiko did not see where he was going until a voice he did not wish to hear invaded his mind. He almost face-planted into a tree.
"Hey... did you hear about the ninja who was here the other day?"
"Yeah?"
Just past Echiko's tree sat the two bullies who had beaten him up the other day, lounging on bales of hay in front of the storehouse.
"Guess what I heard yesterday?" The one named Shoji kicked his feet up into the air.
"Do you have to do this all the time?" complained the other boy whom Echiko recalled was named Kunio. "Why don't you just tell me?"
"Fine, fine. Listen. I heard some people talking last night about him, and you won't believe this, but, apparently he has some connection to that cripple with the blue hair."
"No, seriously?" Kunio's mouth was agape.
"And I'm like, why? What would he do with him? Sell him for body parts?" He laughed at his own joke.
"Do they do that?" the other boy asked incredulously.
"Heck, who knows. I heard that warring countries experiment on captured shinobi to learn their secrets."
"Ack, I'd hate to be him."
"No kidding!"

Thump. Echiko collapsed far from their words in a clump of trees outside the village, breathing heavily and fidgeting with anxiety. This is stupid.
Much of the snow that had cloaked the countryside the week before had melted, leaving patches of dirty white in fields of soft mud, yet the misty haze remained ever present blocking out the sun. Humidity clung to his coat and formed a layer on his exposed skin like beads of sweat. He shivered. What was he going to do?
"I can't... I can't... do this anymore," he whispered to himself. What happened to the carefree life he took for granted when he was younger? Things have certainly changed since then. Now I just want to go home...
He touched his cheek and frowned. I'm such a crybaby. What's wrong with me? Why can't I just be normal like everyone else? But no, I am the shinobi spawn. I am the cripple. I am the orphan who can't belong. I'm not wanted. I'm useless.
His abdomen cried out in pain as he sobbed into his sleeve, wishing the whole world would just go away. But just as he wished so, recollections began to flood his mind and suddenly he was drawn into the past, finding himself sitting in in a bed of grass in front of his house in the mountains. Here the breeze was warm and gentle, flowing through the clothes hung to dry on a line beyond him, rustling the leaves above his head and giving voice to the chirping birds in their branches.
The first person he saw was his mother, sliding open the door with a large basket of laundry in her arms, her dark blue hair lazily tossed atop her head, the golden sun setting her skin aglow as she sung aloud the lullaby she would often sing to him: [[Author's note: I stole this song from somewhere, I don't remember where. It's just filler]]

"There is more that rises in the morning,
than just the sun;
There is more that shines in the night
than just the moon.
It is more than just this fire
that keeps us warm, in a shelter
that is larger than this room."

Another voice joined hers, and his twin Emiko appeared with her bright smile to help her mother with the chores.

"There is a loyalty that runs deeper
than mere sentiments;
a music higher than the songs that I can sing.
The substance of the earth
competes for the allegiance I owe
only to the giver of all good things.

So if I stand,
let me stand on the promise
that You will pull me through.
And if I can't,
let me fall on the grace that
first brought me to You.

And if I sing, let me sing for the joy,
that has born in me these songs;
And if I weep, let it be
as a man who is longing for his home.

There is more that dances on the prairies
than the wind;
More that pulses in the ocean
than the tide.
There is a love fiercer than the love between friends,
More gentle than a mother's
when her baby's at her side."

The tune floated through his mind, and he raised his eyes, finding himself face to face with a tall man standing a few yards away. Clean-shaven and remarkably young, the stranger gazed at him with no hint of malevolence or sympathy. Hair a dusty shade of brown and skin tanned, he probably was from inland Fire Country. A pair of square-rimmed glasses rested underneath his obviously tired eyes.
"Are you finished crying over yourself?" he said, as if he had been there for some time.
Heat rushed into Echiko's cheeks. "W-what do you want...?"
"A child I know would always say 'I wasn't crying, I just got dirt in my eyes,' even though he wears protective goggles all the time," the man continued, pushing his glasses up his nose with one finger. His eyes never left Echiko. "Nakayama, is it?"
When Echiko didn't answer he sighed, loosening his rigid posture as he said, "Look, I'm not here to convince you to come with me. I was just supposed to find out what happened to Nakayama Takahiro and his family after his daughter learned about the incident, as a favour to her and Daisuke-san. You know, her husband. I didn't think I'd come to find only one survived..." He sounded distant momentarily, but then he crouched to Echiko's level and studied him.
"You look just like Kimi-chan, yet you seem completely opposite in personality considering she talks so much," was his quite accurate assessment.
Echiko grimaced. "You-you know nothing about me."
"That may be true," he responded. "However, I do know your sister quite well, and she never ceased to talk about her adorable twin siblings."
That's not true! She chose to forget us! "She is dead to us..." Echiko muttered, instinctively repeating what his father said when Kimi married outside the clan and moved away. "...That's what Father says."
The stranger frowned. "Do you honestly believe that?" Standing up again, he said, "Your father is dead. Decide for yourself who you want to be dead to now."
Echiko stared at the young man. What was he saying? The ways of his father were so ingrained in his memory, he confused them with the wishes of his own heart. "What... does it matter...?"
"It matters. You are only human – your life depends on the answer you choose. Do you choose to live with the living, or stay to die with the dead?" He added, barely audible, to himself, "And why am I suddenly giving life-lectures to children?"
Live... with the living? Echiko's palms burned from balling his fists so hard, recognizing all at once what he had been doing this whole time. This whole time, he wasn't surviving – ever since the incident happened, he felt as if he died there buried where his left leg was crushed underneath the heavy beams broken by cascading rock off the mountainside. His sister's hand, inches away, but he couldn't see her face. Everything was dark, he couldn't remember even getting pulled out of the rubble.
Was he still stuck in that place? He hadn't thought about it, or rather tried to not think about it, until now. And the realization was like his life's blood was flowing back through his veins. It was warm.
"Can... can I go, with you?"
"Yeah." The shinobi's gaze softened. "I think she'd like that." A hand went to a pouch at his waist, so quickly and unexpected that Echiko's heart skipped a beat in apprehension, knowing upon instinct to never let his guard down even among friends. However nothing came of it. "Here, this is yours I believe." The shinobi tossed what looked like a bundle of of fist-sized scrolls to Echiko, who stared at them in return.
"Where... did you get these?" His voice was quiet.
"They were all I could find when I investigated the rubble of your house in hopes of some clues about where you had gone."
"Oh." Echiko hesitated. "You searched... the whole house?"
"Yes... was I supposed to find something more?"
Yes, there is something more... "No... nevermind." Echiko stuffed the not-so-important rolls of paper inside his coat with an ambiguous cough. He couldn't fool the ninja, he was sure, but the man didn't pursue the subject. Instead, he turned around as if to walk away as he said, "By the way, my name is Ohayashi Hijame. I'll meet you tonight by the roadside and we'll head out from there."
"Wait... what?" Echiko blinked rapidly. "Why leave at night?"
"Because... I don't particularly care to let all the villagers know I'm still here and that you're going to be coming with me." Before Echiko could conjure up an excuse, the shinobi was gone.
Well he supposed that made sense.

That evening, everything Echiko owned lay neatly in his still nearly empty rucksack. A pair of old clothes, sandals, the bundle of scrolls. A short whittling knife along with a salvaged pouch of tools. A necklace he made for his twin out of chain and wire some time ago. He gently set a napkin filled with goat cheese and biscuits inside and tied the top, casting one last glance at Masahiro's sleeping form before exiting the tent into the night. It was late enough that only embers remained of the camp's fires, and far above he could see twinkling stars peeking through gaps in the dense and dark sky. Yes, he was ready to move on.
He climbed silently out of the ravine. His traveling partner should be waiting just outside the village by the main road that crossed through the rice fields, though he highly doubted he'd be in plain view. It just wasn't a shinobi's way.
Darkness was said to be a ninja's ally, and as he passed the storehouses by the hill he noticed it was also far from quiet. Crickets chirped continuously a melody occasionally complemented by a hoot from an owl or cry from a wolf. Toads stirred the pools of water contained in the fields for the rice, and Echiko slapped off several mosquitoes that tried to land on his skin before he eventually emerged from the village. His feet took to the path before him without looking back.