Chapter XXIX: A Past of Extinction
Ketsueki Kuraiya stands before a large group of shinobi, their faces a mix of curiosity and wariness. None of them bear headbands from any of the Five Great Nations, and their clothing is a patchwork of styles, reflecting their allegiance to no single village. They are wanderers, mercenaries, and outcasts—shinobi who have chosen to live outside the traditional systems of power, just like Ketsueki himself.
The air is thick with tension as Ketsueki addresses them, his voice steady but carrying an undercurrent of urgency. "Now that I've told you all the situation we're in, what will you do?" he asks, his eyes scanning the crowd. "None of you have ever sworn loyalty to a nation, yet here I am, asking you to give aid to the village that intentionally wiped out my entire clan. I want an answer from you all." He closes his eyes, his expression unreadable as he waits for a response.
The shinobi remain silent, their gazes shifting between one another as they weigh his words. Ketsueki's mind drifts, memories flooding back unbidden. Yes... so long ago, the Hidden Leaf—or rather, the acting Hokage—ordered a large squad of Anbu to wipe out the Kuraiya clan. My brother, Furesshu, and I were the only ones to survive. Furesshu had knowledge of the plan beforehand and escaped. As for me... I was too strong for them to kill.
The memories are sharp and painful, like shards of glass digging into his mind. He recalls the screams, the blood, the flames that consumed his home. He remembers the faces of his family, his friends, his clan—all gone, erased by the very village he now seeks to protect. Why am I even trying to help that accursed village after the suffering they caused me? he wonders, his fists clenching at his sides.
The silence stretches, broken only by the rustle of the wind. Ketsueki's jaw tightens as he waits, his patience wearing thin. The shinobi before him exchange uneasy glances, their hesitation palpable. Ketsueki's mind churns with conflicting emotions—anger, grief, and a reluctant sense of duty. He knows the stakes, knows what's at risk if the Hidden Leaf falls. But the weight of his past presses down on him, a constant reminder of the cost of his loyalty.
Finally, one of the shinobi steps forward, a tall man with a scar running down his cheek. "You're asking us to fight for a village that's done nothing but oppress and destroy," he says, his voice cautious but not unkind. "Why should we risk our lives for them?"
Ketsueki opens his eyes, his gaze piercing. "Because if the Leaf falls, the balance of power in this world will shatter," he replies, his voice low and intense. "And if that happens, none of us will be safe—not you, not me, not anyone. This isn't about loyalty to a village. It's about survival."
The shinobi exchange looks again, the weight of his words settling over them. Slowly, one by one, they nod, their expressions hardening with resolve. Ketsueki watches them, a flicker of relief breaking through the storm of emotions in his chest. But even as they prepare to follow him, the ghosts of his past linger in his head, growing louder and louder until they completely take over his mind.
"Orochimaru? What are you talking about? He's one of the village's Sannin. A student of Lord Third. With all due respect, sir, how can we go through with this?" asked a much younger Ketsueki, his voice tinged with disbelief and confusion. At only eleven years old, he already wore the uniform of the Anbu Black Ops, a testament to his prodigious talent and the high expectations placed upon him. His small body was draped in the dark, form-fitting armor of the Anbu, the porcelain fox mask resting at his side as he stood before his superior.
The boy had mastered his kekkei genkai, Reddokaringu, a year earlier, a feat that had stunned even the most seasoned shinobi. His ability to manipulate and weaponize his own blood had earned him recognition far beyond his years. His sharp mind and unparalleled combat skills had caught the attention of the Fourth Hokage, Minato Namikaze, who had personally praised the young prodigy. It was Minato who had fast-tracked him into the Anbu, a decision that had both honored and burdened the boy.
Ketsueki was more than just a talented shinobi; he was the pride of the Kuraiya clan, a symbol of their strength and unity. His presence in the Anbu had strengthened the bond between the Kuraiya and the Leaf, a relationship built on mutual respect and shared goals. But now, standing in the dimly lit room, he felt a growing sense of unease as he listened to the mission briefing.
His squad's captain, Yuo Nimiah, stood before him with his arms crossed, his intense purple eyes homing in on the redheaded child. Yuo was a seasoned shinobi, his reputation well-known within the Anbu ranks. Years later, he would go on to participate in the Fourth Great Ninja War, playing a crucial role in assisting the First Division to seal the Hidden Cloud's Gold and Silver Brothers, Kinkaku and Ginkaku. At this time, however, Yuo's son, Akazo Nimiah, was still a young boy honing his skills at the ninja academy, unaware of the legacy his father was building.
Yuo's dark brown hair was tied into a neat ponytail, and his attire consisted of a large black robe draped over the standard Leaf Anbu uniform. A white hawk mask was strapped to his hip, its sharp features reflecting the sternness of its owner. His presence was commanding, his voice calm but firm as he addressed the young prodigy.
"This isn't a request, Ketsueki. It's an order," Yuo said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Orochimaru has betrayed the village. His experiments... his actions... they've crossed a line. The Hokage has deemed him a threat to the village's security. We've been tasked with eliminating him."
Ketsueki's small hands clenched into fists at his sides, his mind racing. Orochimaru, one of the Legendary Sannin, a shinobi revered for his power and intellect, was now a target? It didn't make sense. The boy had grown up hearing stories of Orochimaru's exploits, his contributions to the village during the wars. How could someone so respected fall so far?
"But... he's one of us," Ketsueki protested, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "He's a hero. How can we just... kill him?"
Yuo's gaze softened slightly, but his tone remained firm. "Sometimes, Ketsueki, the hardest part of being a shinobi is doing what's necessary, even when it goes against everything we believe in. Orochimaru's actions have put the village at risk. We have no choice."
Ketsueki looked down, his eyes shadowed by his bangs. He felt the weight of the mission pressing down on him, a heavy burden for someone so young. He had always prided himself on his strength, his ability to protect the village and his clan. But this... this felt different. This felt wrong.
"I understand, sir," he said finally, his voice steady despite the turmoil in his heart. He straightened his posture, his small frame radiating determination. "I'll carry out the mission."
Yuo nodded, a hint of relief in his eyes. "Good. You're the pride of the Kuraiya clan, Ketsueki, as well as the Leaf's. I know you won't let us down."
As Ketsueki turned to leave, his mind was a whirlwind of emotions. He had always believed in the village, in its ideals and its leaders. But now, for the first time, he felt a flicker of doubt. What did it mean to protect the village if it meant turning against one of its own? And what would this mission cost him—not just as a shinobi, but as a person? The boy buried these thoughts deep within, placing his Anbu mask over his face to conceal all emotions.
A short time later, intel from the village had led the squad to Orochimaru's hidden lair deep within the Stone's territory. The place was rumored to be a labyrinth of tunnels, buried beneath jagged cliffs and shrouded in thick forests. But, by the time the squad had arrived, it was clear that Orochimaru had already been alerted to their presence. He had received word of their approach and, with his usual cunning, managed to slip away before they could even make a move. The air had been thick with frustration, as the team stood at the entrance of the hidden lair, knowing they'd been outwitted once again.
Unfortunately, none of the squad members had been skilled trackers, and despite their best efforts to follow any possible trails, the scent had long since faded. After hours of futile searching, the village sent word, ordering them to return. It was a hard pill to swallow—knowing that their target had escaped once again, and they had nothing to show for their efforts but empty terrain.
Ketsueki had reported to the higher-ups before returning to the Kuraiya clan palace, his mind still wrapped around the failure of the mission. Walking through the familiar halls of his family's home, he removed his mask and shoes, carefully placing them in his closet as he always did. The palace was quiet, almost eerily so, with the only sound being the soft creak of the wooden floor beneath his feet.
"Welcome home, son. How was the mission?" His father's voice broke the silence as he entered the room. The man, with his calm demeanor, placed a hand gently on top of Ketsueki's head, his expression filled with concern.
The red-haired child gave a small, tired smile in response. "I'm not cleared to reveal this to you, Father, but... unfortunately, our target escaped. We couldn't track him, and we had no choice but to return," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of disappointment.
"I see. Better luck next time, eh?" His father chuckled softly, ruffling Ketsueki's hair before leaving the room, his footsteps fading into the distance.
Ketsueki let out a sigh as he sat down on his bed, his gaze drifting toward the window. Outside, the chorus of crickets filled the stillness of the night, the hour already past midnight. Even within the vast walls of the palace, it felt as if the world was holding its breath, the quiet broken only by the occasional rustle of the wind. As the only Anbu member from the Kuraiya clan, Ketsueki knew no one else would be returning to the palace at this hour, and he could rest without worry of disturbing anyone.
His eyes wandered up to the full moon hanging high in the sky, its pale glow tainted with an unusual reddish hue. The sight sent a shiver down his spine.
'A red moon?' he thought, frowning. 'That's not something you see every day. Weird...'
Shaking off the odd feeling, he stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes, letting the soft sounds of the night lull him to sleep.
When he woke, the room was still dark. The moonlight had dimmed, its red hue now fading into a dull, muted shade. Ketsueki yawned and pushed himself out of bed, stretching his limbs as he headed downstairs to the kitchen for a drink of water. As he approached the door leading to the main complex of the palace, he paused, a faint sound catching his attention.
'What's that noise?' he wondered, furrowing his brow. It wasn't the usual creaks and groans of the old palace, nor the sounds of servants cleaning or animals rustling. It was something... different.
Curious, he pushed open the door and stepped into the hallway, the noise growing louder now, but still indiscernible. His heart began to beat faster as he crept further into the shadows, the air around him growing thick with unease.
Suddenly, warm blood splattered on his face, the metallic tang of it filling his nostrils. His mother's lifeless body crumpled to the ground; a ninja sword buried deep in her chest. Her crimson blood pooled beneath her, spreading like a grotesque flower blooming on the cold stone floor. Ketsueki's eyes had widened in horror, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at the woman who had always been his strength, his protector. Her once-bright eyes were now dull, the light in them fading as quickly as the blood drained from her body.
"Mother...?" he had whispered, his voice trembling, barely audible over the deafening silence that followed her collapse. His gaze shifted to the figure standing before him—a Hidden Leaf Anbu, his mask smeared with his mother's blood. The sight of it made Ketsueki's stomach churn. The Anbu's presence was cold, calculating, and devoid of any remorse. Ketsueki's chest heaved as he began to hyperventilate, his senses overwhelmed by the metallic stench of blood and the chilling realization of what was happening.
Then he felt it—the wetness beneath his feet. His eyes dropped to the floor, where a river of blood seeped toward him, originating from the left side of the room. Slowly, almost unwillingly, he turned his head to follow the trail. His heart shattered as he saw the motionless bodies of his brothers and sisters, their lifeless forms sprawled across the room. Each of them bore the same fatal wounds, their blood mingling on the floor in a macabre tapestry of death. The room, once filled with laughter and warmth, was now a tomb.
"Sorry, kid. You're next," the Anbu had said coldly, yanking the sword from his mother's chest with a sickening squelch. The sound echoed in Ketsueki's ears, a cruel reminder of the brutality unfolding around him.
"No!" Ketsueki screamed, his voice raw and guttural, filled with a pain that transcended words. In a burst of uncontrollable rage, he lunged at the Anbu, his small fist slamming into the ninja's masked face with a force that cracked the porcelain mask in half. The Anbu staggered back, coughing up blood as he fell onto his back. Ketsueki stood over him, his small frame trembling, his eyes glowing an eerie, deadly purple. The curse mark on his shoulder, a birthright he had never understood, began to pulse with dark energy, awakening for the first time.
Without hesitation, Ketsueki leapt onto the fallen shinobi, his fists raining down on the man's face with a ferocity that defied his age. The first blow shattered bone; the second silenced the Anbu forever. But Ketsueki didn't stop. He couldn't stop. His fists continued to pound into the lifeless body, the sound of flesh and bone crunching beneath his knuckles filling the room. Blood splattered across his face, his clothes, his hands—but he didn't care. The rage consumed him, driving him forward.
When he finally stood, his small body heaving with exertion, he looked around the palace. The once-grand halls were now a battlefield, littered with the bodies of his family and the Anbu who had come to destroy them. But it wasn't enough. The fire inside him burned brighter, hotter. He would make them pay. All of them.
Ketsueki moved like a shadow, his small form darting through the palace with terrifying speed. One by one, he hunted down the remaining Anbu members, his movements a blur of fury and precision. The curse mark's power surged through him, amplifying his strength, his speed, his rage. By the time he was done, the palace was silent, the only sound the dripping of blood from the walls and floors. Ketsueki had counted each of the bastards. A staggering one hundred and six Anbu lay dead, their bodies broken and lifeless.
Covered in blood, his small hands trembling but his resolve unshaken, Ketsueki stepped out of the palace. The night air was cold against his skin, but he barely felt it. His mind was focused on one thing, and one thing only: Minato Namikaze, the newly appointed Hokage. The man who must have ordered this massacre. The man who would pay.
It didn't take long for Ketsueki to find him. Standing before Minato, his body dwarfed by the Hokage's presence, Ketsueki's glowing purple eyes burned with a hatred that belied his age. He was just a child, but in that moment, he was something far more dangerous—a force of vengeance, unleashed and unstoppable.
The rain poured down in sheets, drenching the two figures standing in front of the Hokage's mansion. Minato turned to Ketsueki, his expression hidden beneath the shadow of his Hokage hat. His voice was calm, almost gentle, as he spoke. "You're alive," he said, his tone carrying a hint of something—relief, perhaps, or even admiration.
Ketsueki's breath hitched, trembling as he stared up at the man who had just orchestrated the massacre of his entire family. His chest heaved with sobs, his voice breaking as he cried hysterically, the sound raw and guttural. He fell to his knees, the mud and rain soaking through his clothes, and screamed for an explanation. "Why?!" he demanded, his voice cracking under the weight of his grief and rage. "Why did you do this?! Tell me!"
Minato's gaze softened at the sight of the child. He crouched slightly, meeting Ketsueki at eye level. "You survived because you're strong," he said. "Stronger than most. Stronger than anyone your age has any right to be." He paused, his piercing blue eyes studying the boy. "I want you to be my right-hand man. Together, we can rebuild the Leaf into something greater."
Ketsueki's tears mixed with the rain streaming down his face, but his grief quickly turned to fury. His small hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms. "Your right-hand man?!" he spat, his voice trembling with anger. "After what you've done?! After you took everything from me?!"
Without warning, Ketsueki charged forward, his small body in a blur. Minato sidestepped effortlessly, his movements befitting that of a ninja nicknamed the Yellow Flash, but Ketsueki didn't stop. He attacked again and again, his strikes fueled by raw emotion, each one more desperate than the last. The two clashed in the pouring rain, their movements a blur of fists, kicks, and flashes of chakra. Despite Ketsueki's determination, Minato's skill was unmatched. He countered every move with ease, his calm demeanor a stark contrast to Ketsueki's frenzied attacks.
The fight carried them through the village streets, past the flickering lanterns and empty homes, until they stood before the towering village gate. Ketsueki was panting, his body bruised and battered, but his eyes still burned with defiance. Minato stood before him; his golden hair plastered to his face by the rain.
"I see that I can't ever convince you to stay loyal to the Leaf," Minato said, his voice carrying a note of finality. He straightened, his posture regal even in the downpour. "So... turn your back, child. Leave the village."
Ketsueki's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. He stared up at Minato, tears still streaming down his face, mingling with the rain. "What?!" he shouted, his voice cracking. "Why are you letting me go?! Just kill me already! Isn't that what you do to traitors?!"
Minato's gaze was steady, his voice calm but firm. "I said it earlier. You're a very strong, young shinobi. An even greater prodigy than I was." He paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. "I refuse to let you go to waste like that. But, if you ever return to this village again, I promise you... that will be the last day you walk the earth, Ketsueki Kuraiya."
Ketsueki's fists clenched at his sides, his body trembling with a mixture of rage and disbelief. He wanted to scream, to attack, to make Minato pay for what he'd done. But deep down, he knew he was no match for the Hokage—not yet. With one last glare, Ketsueki turned his back on the village, his small figure disappearing into the stormy night. The rain washed away his tears, but it couldn't cleanse the hatred burning in his heart. He would return. And when he did, he would make Minato regret ever letting him go.
A slight smile forms on Ketsueki's lips as his eyes open once more, the weight of the past and the present colliding in his mind. The memories of that rainy night, the blood, the pain, and the words of the Fourth Hokage echo in his thoughts.
Well, Fourth Hokage, he thinks, his smile tinged with irony, you ended up dying before you could ever make good on your word. The image of Minato Namikaze flashes in his mind—the man who had spared his life, who had seen strength in him even as a broken, grieving child. But on that day so long ago, you spared my life because I was strong. And now... I'll protect the Leaf for that same reason.
The room around him is filled with the quiet murmurs of shinobi, their eyes fixed on him with a mixture of respect and determination. They stand in formation, their postures straight, their loyalty unwavering. At the front, one of the shinobi steps forward, his voice breaking the silence.
"Lord Ketsueki," he begins, his tone filled with conviction, "if you intend on protecting a village that condemned your clan, then we, shinobi who have never been hurt by the Leaf, are more than willing to help."
Ketsueki's gaze softens as he looks at the man, then at the others standing behind him. These are not just soldiers; they are his people, his family now. They have chosen to stand by him, to follow him into a battle that is not theirs to fight. His heart swells with a quiet pride, but also with resolve. He nods, his expression resolute, before turning around. The Kuraiya clan insignia, emblazoned on the back of his robe, catches the light—a symbol that once represented betrayal and loss, now a beacon of purpose and unity.
"Alright," Ketsueki says, his voice carrying the weight of command. He faces them again, his eyes burning with determination. "We now move as a single conglomerate. The Ketsueki Unit. We are to provide battle strength to the Hidden Leaf, render first aid to its civilians..." He pauses, his jaw tightening as he speaks the next words. "And to capture Gyatsō Mataba, dead or alive."
The shinobi before him nod in unison, their resolve mirroring his own. The air in the room shifts, charged with anticipation and readiness. Ketsueki takes a deep breath, feeling the weight of the insignia on his back—not as a burden, but as a reminder of who he is and what he fights for. The past may have shaped him, but it will not define him. Today, he moves forward, not as a victim, but as a protector.
The Ketsueki Unit stands ready, their loyalty unwavering, their purpose clear. And at their head, Ketsueki Kuraiya leads the way, his heart steady and his resolve unshakable. The Leaf may have once turned its back on him, but now, he will ensure it stands strong—no matter the cost.