Prologue to a Story

Essay by vickular April 2006

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On a sunny afternoon, well and safe in the quiet village of Konoha, a young boy was playing with his family's old kunai.

Perspiration dripped off his sticky forehead as he thrust out his hand somewhat expertly, releasing the worn kunai. It cut through the air easily and emitted a sharp, almost audible sound, but despite his mastering of the throw, the kunai were way off the intended target. He grimaced in frustration as the kunai merely embedded itself into the rough bark of the tree for a split-second and fell to the ground in a heap.

The 5-year-old sighed exasperatedly, running a tired hand through his short hair, "I've been at this for hours already, what does it take to aim properly?!"

Finally losing the confidence and determination he had when he first commenced training, he allowed he thirst for water to occupy his mind instead. The young boy mumbled to himself as he turned around by instinct and eyed the river that was glistening from the sun's warm embrace.

A grin replaced the frown he wore and he hurried on his short legs to the riverside.

// When the mythical entity has lay to rest //

// Those not tainted by corruption //

// Will stumble upon its glorious powers //

// And reawaken the dormant legend within //

He eagerly scooped up handfuls of water to her parched mouth and cleansed his face, washing away the dirt and sweat that had accumulated on his face while training.

"If only ni-san would keep promises and help me with kunai-throwing for once," the five-year-old mumbled softly, while trailing his eyes over the distorted reflection painted upon the rippling water.

The mirror image suddenly disappeared as an intense beam of light shot through the water, blinding the little boy...