Ashes to Ashes

I. Ashes to Ashes and Dust to Dust

...“Why do we fight?” the children had asked, eyes wide as they stared up at the speaker, childish innocence adorning equally childish faces as the figure who had been a steady presence in almost all of the battles that had ravaged the surrounding lands turned towards them. Sapphire eyes regarded them for a few silent moments, a gentle breeze playing through the stray strands of silky blond that escaped from the loose ponytail as he considered the question. Innocent eyes looked up at him in awe – a hero, they whispered amongst themselves, remembering snippets of conversations that had been overheard between the warriors. The older children could still remember times when they had heard rumors of the figure before them as a demon, but those times had passed as the fires of war had consumed them, the village too desperate to risk losing such a key persona.

“Why do we fight?” he mused to no one in particular as he repeated the question, a wry half-smile playing over his lips as he considered his answer. “The answer depends on who you ask…the older generations, the eldest of our fighters, will tell you that we fight for the future, to ensure that the youngest of the children will not have to fight. My generation, the generation that lived when the fierce fighting began – we will tell you that we fight to honor the memory of those that had fallen, those who died in the first and second invasions, in the cowardly sneak attacks, the battles that broke the treaties and ceasefires…we will tell you that this is what we fight for. We fight for revenge, revenge for all of those who were murdered as they fell from injuries, revenge for our comrades, tortured to death. And you…the youngest generation, you fight the hardest battle of all…you fight to survive.” He turned away again, facing the Hokage Monument – four full faces, half of the Godaime’s face, the other half forever remaining unfinished, with the Godaime perpetually busy, the artisans all working on reinforcing the walls and the buildings. He had left the children behind as he once again headed towards the front lines as alarms sounded, all thoughts replaced by the ever-burning desire, the need to get his revenge against the enemy that had hacked Chouji to pieces even as he lay dying on the ground, the enemy that had returned the tortured body of Raidou – silent until the very end, never giving in – to the front gates, impaled to a tree with his own weapon.

The footsteps continued on, past the ruins of the once-mighty village center, past the monuments, past the ruined buildings, until they reached a bare swath of ground, stretching as far as the eye could see, nothing but bones crumbling to dust and the ashes of the forests that had once grown there. There were signs of great battles that had been fought there, the footprints of giant creatures imprinted into the ground, craters where the bodies had fallen before disappearing, and a harsh, cold laugh emitted from the silent figure as the footsteps continued slightly, walking over to a patch of land devoid of anything save the dry, cracking soil.

“Heh…looks like even nature is clever enough to avoid where that vile creature died…”

He mused to himself, the words escaping his lips and floating in the air before they were blown away.

“But you…you never could bring yourself to turn away from the lure of power…no matter what the price…”

Even the children knew to avoid him now, he wryly mused, almost saddened by the prospect as he gazed down at the village from his perch on the Hokage Monument. They avoided all of the veterans of that last battle now – giant creatures, snakes and slugs and toads, towering above the walls of the village as they fought, trees crashing down onto the ground, the earth itself shaking as they landed from the air, a never-ending battle that had lasted for generations now. The three Sannin, always locked in a constant struggle, none of them stronger than the other two, and now the new generation, apprentices to the Legendary Three, would continue the fight.

Bloody crimson pinwheels met emerald and sapphires bleeding into violet, a low feral growl filling the empty space between them as the blond spoke first, his voice a cross between that of a human and that of a beast. There was no love between the three of them, nothing save the desire for revenge – childhood dreams abandoned, hopes cruelly ripped apart by war, until all that was left was a heartless warrior, a weapon unto the bitter end. They had been the ones who began the fight of the next generation, and they would be the ones who would dominate the battle for this generation, passing it on to the next…or so they had believed…