Prologue
Normally the darkness is cold, frightful, unseen, and unwanted. But at other times it can be useful, inspiring, and often just as deadly. Deep in the woods shadows scurry about the night, their visages shifting from tree to tree, branch to branch. They are shinobi or ninja as some come to know them by. Ancient mercenaries of bereavement. Most are noble assassins, but many are wayward. As swiftly as the wind they move, just as silently as calmness herself. They came to a clearing, overlooking a small rural village down beneath them. They all wore dark clothing, and white masks covered their faces. The one in front dictated orders. Acknowledging his will they ran down at the village. Their blades were drawn in deadly fashion. The screams of mayhem soon filled the air as the village began burning around its inhabitants. Those who lived and weren't suffocated by flames, were succumbed by the vicious assault of the invading faction. No one was sparred. Adults, elderly, and even children were ripped apart. The remnants of the bodies burned with their former homes. Their bodies were encrusted with blood when the invading shinobi left. Their mission a success, but a mistake was made. The orders were to eliminate all opposition and they did so with prejudice. They are ANBU. But part of the enemy they didn't want to kill. These other adversaries were from Wind Country a growing enemy of their own village. They were merchants, a family. The ninjas killed them without faltering but made it look like robbery. They took the family's only child. He was a newborn, not even a day old and headed for home.
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