A/N: Do not own. Happy reading.

Running feet. Harsh panting. A gasp, the sound of something breaking.

"Run, Lily!"

Shock. A flash of green light.

It is a not-as-well-known-as-ought-to-be fact that chakra and magic are in fact, one and the same thing. To a point. Chakra is the elder, the parent of magic so to speak. As people, civilians, began to gain higher than normal spiritual energy, despite the training needed to cultivate said energy, the two began to seperate. Civilians were not accustomed to the highly demanding physical extertion needed to properly control this energy, nor were they inclined to ever attempt it. Instead, they looked for other ways of controlling this new power, ways where the phrase 'mind over matter' came into play. And thus, magic, was born.

"Lily, take Harry and go! It's him! Go! Run! I'll hold him off!"1

Stumbling. A jar to the hip. The soft wail of an infant.

"Not Harry...not my baby boy."

Shinobi, the masters of chakra, found this molesting of the pure form distastful. Magic, the by-product, was inheirently weaker, as the user's themselves were weaker than their chakra using conterparts. They used their new found power to make their lives easier, while shinobi kept to the old ways, training their bodies and minds, keeping the pure form alive. Thus, the two were forevermore seperated.

Darkness creeps into the room. The coldness is unnatural, coming up from the street, filtering through the windows. The red haired woman, green eyes dark with fear, clutches her precious bundle close to her chest. The door bursts open.

The shinobi, knowing that their power was being changed, set about protecting themselves. A seperate continent far from the new magic users was formed, and renamed. The magic users were quite willing to be sent far away, to a place they could call their own, where they could create their own history, rules and lifestyle. Yet each kept records of the other, for the oldest of magic families had their roots in the ancient chakra forms. And so, the lands of EAST and WEST came to be.

"Not Harry, please no don't kill him, take me, kill me instead -"

"This is my last warning -"

Fumbling with a pendent, heavy with charms. Draping it over the child's neck.

"Take him somewhere safe. Please."

Whilst records of chakra users have all but been forgotten, there are those familes who keep records and knowledge of this ancient history deep within their family tomes. One such family are the Malfoys, for their roots go back as far as one of the very first chakra users. One might not believe that the Ancient and Most Noble Malfoy House could be related to the Maito family. Yet it was so, and it was to this ancestor that a small child, not two years old, would one day appear, beaten and hurt, but still very much alive. Such is the history of how Harry Potter became the heart and soul son of Maito Gai.

"Are you sure he's going to be safe here, Dumbledore?"

"It's better for him to be raised away from the public, from where he can be raised without knowing why he's famous before he's ready."

The nearly two year old baby wailed, his nappy soiled, the rashes on his legs swelled with infection.

The horse-faced woman charged with careing for him screamed with annoyance, grabbing the little child and throwing him into the cuboard used for cleaning products. In the darkness of the cuboard, a pendent glowed, reacting to the power deep within the sniffling child. Far away, in a land long forgotten by it's decendents, a burst of power startled a nearby patrol.

"This is Gai, checking sector 5."

As the green and orange clad man landed, the wail of a child echoed around the forest.