"How many are there left?"
"No clue, maybe twenty more"
These two were the newest addition to the supporting division of the Great Battle Regiment belonging to the Hidden Cloud Village.
Their names did not matter as they were just two more souls to be slaughtered as canon fodder in the recent war. However, for the sake of the audience...
Canon Fodder 1: Rank of Genin and specialised in the use of explosive tags and basic hand to hand combat, Hayato Mizaki. Husband, and a father to a singular daughter.
Canon Fodder 2: Rank of Genin and specialised in the use of kenjutsu and basic hand to hand combat, Aya Tenjou. Husband, and a father to a singular son.
These two poor fools were chosen to gather the remaining corpses from the fresh battle against the Second Division of the Hidden Leaf Village.
According to the battle records released slightly after the end of the war, the battle took place in the south west region of the Haran Bay, and for those who have studied their war maps that is just a stone's throw away from the border between the Hidden Cloud Village and the Hidden Leaf Village.
As a result of small skirmishes here and there, along with the hidden villages stealing resources from other countries and other hidden villages, war has finally broken out and spread its chaos onto the lands.
And it is exactly these two poor fools who have picked the short end of the straws and ended up with the cleaning duty.
"I can't wait to finish, my stomach's killing me'
''Tell me about it, I can smell the wine and meat from across here''
''Why is it that we are the ones who always have to do this?''
''I'll tell you why, its because our luck is dog shit''
''Good point''
Who knows why, but these two fools have been chosen for clean up duty six times in a row.
''Maybe its because we always pick the sticks with the blue end''
''What do you mean?''
''Have you never noticed? The captain always picks the stick with the red end and we always get the ones with the blue end''
''And? You don't think he marks the longest wooden sticks with the red end and the shortest end with the blue end? He wouldn't? Right?''
''I don't think so no...''
''Right''
''Right..?''
''Right....''
''Right...?''
F-O-O-L-S
Bodies of any shinobi are usually considered vital sources of information, and can be researched to figure out hidden techniques of the dead user, it is not often bodies would be burned in such a high volume.
However, the Hidden Cloud Village have decided they want to start the war off with a clear message to any and all parties. And so, entire enemy camps of shinobi are burned.
The burning embers of corpses streaked across the afternoon sky, dying the yellow leaf like horizon with a dark stain.
The air smelled of flesh, smoke and the aroma of the wine trailing in the air along with the rain slowly mixing with the earth underneath their feet.
The pile of flaming corpses looked similar to a crimson hill from a distance. If not for the up close grotesque details, one might even say it is quite a serene display. Well, not if you are part of the pile of corpses.
Hidden deeply within the sky high mountain of defeated enemies was a single heartbeat refusing to go out, a weak flame exposed to the harsh wind.
A young boy of just fifteen, dressed in a blood stained flak jacket, dark hair, black pants and a matching long sleeve shirt.
The boy was trapped directly underneath the burning corpses, around the outer edges of the base of the pile.
Out of sheer luck the flames hadn't yet reached his body.
''Where the hell am I?''
He muttered as he awakened from his deep stupor, his eyes blinded by an unusual mix of coagulated blood and mud.
During the battle he was hit unconscious by an enemy shinobi from the Hidden Cloud Village, fortunately right before the enemy could deliver the final hit and move on to the next opponent, several kunai with explosive tags attached were thrown to the left hand side of the shinobi setting of a mid scale explosion.
In the dust and the confusion, both the boy and the cloud village shinobi were thrown off course. Only difference being was that one was lucky enough to survive with no injuries and the other had his limbs torn off leaving behind nothing but a slightly discoloured stain on the earth's soil.
As to which is which, well, I will leave such an obvious answer to solve upto the audience.
The boy still gripping onto his shabby looking sword in his right hand, finally cleared his eyesight somehow and came face to face with the truth around him.
He wanted to scream, or at least make a sound but the stench of scorched flesh clogged his lungs as he choked on the air trying to enter his body.
Blood, dirt and dead empty faces everywhere.
Everywhere he looked he could see blood dripping down from above, dirt and mud from the naturally wet soil and the dead expressions of the surrounding bodies. With a large majority dying with a clear sign of pain, fear and desperation on their faces.
The boy quickly calmed down though, he wasn't exactly a rookie when it came to bloodshed, even if the current situation was definitely out of his comfort zone. And just as he was about to decide on his plan of escape, the fools came back.
''I'm nearly done on this side, how about you?''
Hearing the unfamiliar voice, the boy's ears perked up and his feet shifted, slightly adjusting himself to a more defensive position... Well to any defensive position he could muster considering his stuck position, his sensitive ears have always been something he has been quite proud of.
It was his only remarkable trait.
He never had much talent when it came to hand to hand combat or the necessary reserves of chakra to learn, yet alone apply any offensive jutsu in a battle situation. But his ears, that's a different matter, his ears can be said to better than even those of trained shinobi hounds.
A lot of people have even questioned his possible ancestry to the Inuzuka Clan, who are widely known for their canine feats.
His ability to hear enemies approaching from vast distances has saved his life multiple times in the past, and it's also how he ended up in the Sensory Division of the Hidden Leaf. But right now, it's also why he might end up being burned to death.
''Just a couple rows left''
''You wanna flip a coin again to see who's gonna set them on fire?''
''Nah, there's no point in me wasting my chakra like this, you can do it''
''You sure? Didn't you want to try out the new technique you've been learning?''
''Nah, its okay, there's a decent chance it might just blow up in my face''
''Fair enough''
Hearing all this, the boy's heart quickened and his own heartbeat started beating inside his head like a war drum, threatening to shut off once and for all.
The moment stretched and every second felt eternally longer than it should. His blessed ears registered the footsteps coming closer and closer through the damp earth. His grip couldn't help but tighten around the sword in his hand, with his knuckles turning pale beneath the grime and blood.
Out of mere coincidence, the boy of mere fifteen sighted his reflection in the edge of his blade and for the first time in his life, he saw the truth. Weakness.
Hidden deep within his iris, a revolting, repelling, sickening strain of weakness born within himself.
His senses turned bleak, and a strange perception of destiny and fate took over him.
Hi senses dulled, swallowed entirely by the rising tide of panic and revulsion. It wasn't burning to death that terrified him...it was dying while still being this...pathetic. Whilst, still being confided to this weak shell.
It wasn't easy to admit, but it has always been the truth. Throughout, his whole life, not once has he ever had the strength or the ability to make a decision for himself let alone that of others.
What was the reason behind why he lost his mother and sisters to those 'flesh merchants'? Weakness.
Long before the system of nations and villages was introduced into the lands, the warring states period existed. During these times, the average lifespan was thirty, meaning a boy around the age of fifteen was considered to be a young adult.
And to this day, his nightmares of that night haven't stopped. His mother and two sisters ripped from their beds and lost forever. At the time, his father wasn't home as he was working as a mercenary and was hired by the local shinobi clan for a task.
Before he left, his father said to him.
''I won't be home for a while, and when I'm not here you are to protect the household''
''Do you understand what I'm trying to tell you?'' At this point, the man's voice became stricter as he clenched his son's hands. His eyes clearly met his sons. One pair reflecting youth and potential and one pair reflecting the harshness, cold and cruelty of the world.
This pair knew exactly what the hands of 'man' were capable of.
The boy nodded.
''When I'm gone you are to listen to your mother and take care of your sister, understood?''
The boy nodded.
Seeing his son like this, the father kissed his wife and young daughter goodbye and left.
A few days later, when he returned from his travels and rushed home to his humble shed, the first thing he noticed was the shattered door and the broken gates.
He found his son unconscious in the living quarters.
When the son woke up from his sleep, he explained everything to his father through tears and snot.
Listening to his son, the father didn't allow himself to blame his son for such a thing. But the man?
The man that lost his wife and daughter? The man that knew the likely end of his wife and daughter? That man gathered his thoughts and locked away his emotions.
Life continued. And soon life did become easier and safer with the introduction of the village system by Hashirama Senju.
But even then, the son could still feel a hint of resentment locked away behind his fathers eyes whenever they interlocked with his.
The father was kind, but this kindness only served to fuel the boys self hatred for his inability, for his pathetic actions...For his weak shell.
This was also the moment, the strain of weakness was born within the young boy.
Why did his father have to volunteer on his behalf when the first recruitment's to the war began?
Why did his father die in his place? Why did his father pass on the family heirloom sword to his weak hands? Why did he allow those people to spit on his fathers grave?
Why did he allow himself to be beaten black and blue by his own comrades?
Why did he allow himself to be treated like the joke of the division?
Why the hell was he born with this fragile cover?
Weakness that's why.
All these volatile thoughts flashed throughout the boys mind, stirring and simmering inside of him. Mixing and transforming into something else.
Slowly but surely, anger was born alongside the strain of weakness inside the boys eyes.
Anger stemming from the end of his spine to the tip of his skull. Anger which set his heart racing for its next beat and his lungs for their next dose of oxygenated blood.
The type of anger that blinded ones mind and took over, anger which rang like the loudest of bells as if declaring its arrival.
The anger fought back against the weakness, pushing it back into the deep corners of the abyss.
But the weakness refused to let go of its lands that easily. This was his land, which he discovered and which he conquered. It was his by right, by divine right if necessary.
And so, anger wasn't enough and started retreating.
The boy decided he had enough, enough of being treated as such and of being himself.
He wanted to change, completely, entirely, fully, wholly and absolutely. With no comparison whatsoever.
And so...Defiance was born.
Defiance refusing submission of will, mind, spirit and body. Defiance in the face of struggle and obstacle. The defiance of authority and establishments hovering over one's head.
Defiance descended into the realm of weakness.
Defiance took a step and banished its obsolete ruler.
And so...weakness was gone.
What remained was a changed persona, one wouldn't notice easily but the boys eyes did in fact change.
It is said that a persons emotional state could infact effect a persons appearance and characteristics. And this is exactly what has happened. The once dark eyes of the young boy finally became clear. A dark muddy lake transformed into a pure ocean.
These were the eyes of someone who had enough. Sharp eyes of defiance.
One of the two fools, Hayato Mizaki, stopped a few footsteps from the base of the burning pile. The scent of burning flesh and copper hung so thick in the air, it made his eyes water, and the dark smoke sure as hell did not help.
''Ughh, It smells even worse, this close up''
''Yeah, no kidding'' Aya replied, whilst flicking his blade through the air.
Hayato bent down, poking at the base of the pile using a nearby metal rod he found.
Then-
A twitch.
Barely visible, but it was there.
''Wait a second'' He muttered to himself as he shoved another charred leg out the way.
Then he just froze.
A pair of bloodshot eyes of pure clarity stared back at him.
It was also at this moment that a strong rain starting pouring from the heavy clouds.