An Assassin's Legacy

Cursed, really?

At the end of the First Shinobi World War

"Master?"

Yaruhi came to stand behind the older man sitting on the ground. In front of him was a gravesite where they had just buried thirty-five men and women and children. Behind them, laid the ruins of what used to be a thriving village. 

Master didn't move, didn't even twitch at the arrival of his disciple and when he spoke, his voice was tired and gravelly.

"Are there any more survivors?"

Yaruhi tried to keep his voice steady but he didn't entirely succeed.

"No but." His voice cracked at the last syllable but he continued, "we found more bodies."

Master nodded and stood up. His bones aching like an old man's for all he looked in his early thirties.

Karna and Aisa; twins identical in everything except their gender, came to stand by the Master and Yaruhi. The Master looked at the three of them; this was all who remained of his disciples. The rest had been part of the casualities of a war they didn't ask for. The only ones who wanted the war was the shinobi and they were the only ones who ever reaped the benefits, if there was any. After a moment of thought, the Master spoke.

"We will prepare another burial ground. Give the surivors a chance to identify the bodies if they can."

Then he turned to Aisa.

"What has your people told you?"

Aisa met her master's gaze with a fury that drenched her entire being, "The fires they set haven't even stopped burning and there are already talks of another war."

"Another..." Yaruhi whispered in despair to himself. 

Karna continued for his twin, "The alliances formed now are tenous at best. I heard news from Iwa that they plan to back out of their agreement with the Suna. The friction between Konoha and Nami are growing."

Aisa started when Karna stopped, "There are talks about Uzushio becoming recognized as a major Hidden village. If that happens the relationship between Iwa, Mizu and Konoha will deteriorate further."

"Oh Lord..." Yaruhi whispered. Karna and Aisa watched him sadly. And the Master watched all three.

They were all just children, the Master thought. And they didn't even get the chance to mourn properly before they had to bury more. The twins' parents and cousins, Yaruhi's younger brother, the men and women they had trained with, fought with, grew-up with, calling them brothers and sisters, the strangers who they didn't even know but still shattered their hearts. The orphans, the injured, the dead... 

"War," the Master said, "Is an essential part of the Shinobi world. It will come again, no matter how long it takes for them to get down to it, it will. But we, nor any of those that we buried or rescued want anything to do with that world. We want nothing to do with their war and we don't want to be part of their casualities."

As the master spoke, many others gathered near. All of them in their bloody, torn clothes with aching hearts and bleeding wounds with dirt caked on them from the graves they dug. They stood there and they listened.

"This time," tears fell from the man's eyes and he was not ashamed of them, "we weren't enough. There weren't enough of us to fight, enough of us to defend... We just... weren't enough. But war will come again and if you give me your trust, I will make you ENOUGH. Enough to stop them from destroying our homes and families, enough to stop them from dragging us into their fights, enough to protect what's important to you."