"I was bred a warrior. Bred with a singular purpose: to kill. For the sake of my father, for the sake of my brothers, clan or my employer, it mattered not. I killed, so those alike would not kill me. It was a choice made for me, a life decided for me."
The sun sets down, exploding in warm reverbs across the surface of the koi pond. Across the perimeter the bamboo raced to outgrowth the monolith stone walls, patterns of neatly kept gravel surrounded the pond with porch both roughly cutting in, straight to the pond, and connecting it to the one-storied compound.
Inside the Senju clan there was a saying - "planning war with carps", meaning calmly making tough decisions, that originated from the tradition of the Senju clan heads making critical decisions regarding both inner dealings of the clan, and dealings of war not at any gathering or council, but by simply sitting calmly in the company of ever-silent koi carps. The Senju held a belief that none of the outcomes that shall sprout there must not return in graver waves as the ones from gravels that would skid through the surface of the water.
Nigh the end of the day, the carps swim around the pond in serene laziness, as blood, dripping down the pond catches their attention. They revel in that gaping wound opened in the pond. Senju Butsuma, the head of the Senju clan for nearly forty years, laid still, blood oozing in a river from the brutal slash on his neck. Seated beside him is Senju Hashirama, the prodigal son of the head of the clan, destined to take his father's place, to achieve greater things. In front of him laid a katana with the Senju insignia, stained with blood. The door behind slides open to reveal two Senju clansmen in a warrior's garment, they quickly apprehend the unresistant son, dragging him into the hall.
"I was bred a warrior. Bred with a singular purpose: to kill. Kill a father to many sons, kill a brother to many siblings, or a simple merchant, it mattered not. I killed, so those alike would not kill my kin. In a life decided for me, it was a choice made willingly."
The Senju clan had a tradition to erect a monument after every war that they waged, depicting all those of their brothers and sisters that fell in battle, so their memory would live on, and the price of battle would be set in stone. As the Senju warriors dragged Hashirama through the halls of his family's compound, he paid no mind to the distraught or grave faces of his kin, nor did he feel the strength with which the guards pulled back his arms. As they passed through the hall leading to the garden, he looked through the carved faces at the Chief War monument, as they entered the hall leading to the black cells, he gazed at the faces of those that fell in a war with the Uchiha ten years ago. As he was plunged into darkness, he kept looking at how his brother's face was masterly cast in stone.
"We were bred as shinobi. Raised with only hatred as company. Hatred for enemies, hatred for many misfortunes, for many wars. Hatred was all we knew, in a life decided for us."
Although the head of the Senju clan made most of the important decisions, he did not judge. He who have done a disservice to the clan, is held under guard, until the collective council of the clansmen decides his fate. Only as they reach a decision does the head of the clan allows to enact the chosen justice in his name. It is believed that after death, you will meet no judge, or executioner, but either all those you have lost, or those that you killed. Wether you reunite with you loved ones in death, or left to deal with the consequences of your misdoings, is up to the life that you lived.
As the iron cage slams shut, Hashirama left seated in a dimmed light, two guards keeping his body and spirit sealed. Only resort left is to look at the center of the black cells. There, surrounded by dying coals is the statue of the founder of the clan, fabled to have singlehandedly erased enemy clans, ensuring survival of his own.
"We were brought into the darkness, expected to abide by its dark laws, but I chose to look toward the light..."
As Hashirama was imprisoned for his crime, fellow clansmen came to look upon the body of their leader, lying with an empty scabbard, the koi pond now crimson, with the carps floating with their belly upwards.
Hashirama painstakingly shifted his gaze to the barred gap near the ceiling, that let in the rays of the dying day. He met its death with calm, chillingly-resolute eyes.
"...toward peace."
Author's note: This prologue here is of a story that I worked on, and even developed a story board, spanning at least the first act of the story. If this little thing here generates enough positive feedback, or just simply views, I'll be aiming to try and bring the story to life.
If any of y'all have any thoughts on the prologue, let me know!