CHAPTER ONE

At three in the morning, the Tamashi village was bathed in moonlight. The clouds that had threatened the villagers with occasional rumbles during the day had dispersed; every star in the sky winked down upon the earth.

Despite the sky’s lights, the high wall surrounding the village cast great shadows over the ground. The streets and alleys were covered in darkness, and the distanced streetlamps flickered light onto the dirt-paved roads. A handful of Tamashi inhabitants still walked among the streets.

Exiting an alley in the outskirts of town, shadowed by the high guard wall, was a slightly small man of about 19. His shoulders were hunched against the chilly air, his hands in the pockets of his black pants. The collar of his long-sleeve, button-up shirt was up to protect his neck from the cold. His blood-red hair was cut short, and his head was down as he walked down the dark street. His okami ears were pressed against his head, his tail still.

Suddenly, his ears perked. The man’s head shot up, gray eyes wide, as he stared at one of the guards patrolling the wall. The guard’s head turned quickly, and his body jerked and fell backwards as a single arrow, followed by three others, pierced his throat.

“Kyobi!” the man shouted, mouth open in shock and disbelief. He jumped up to the fallen guard using powerful chakara only available through the rush of adrenaline coursing through his body.

The guard called Kyobi was the man’s older brother. Bending over him, he looked at the wound. All four arrows were piercing his windpipe, and out of each blood slowly pumped out. A puddle of blood was collecting behind his head. “Yori,” Kyobi mouthed, as the man looked into his face, stricken. His eyes closed, and he was gone.

Yori’s head drooped, and his breathing was harsh. His older brother was dead; he had been right there- he couldn’t do anything about it! He was a ninja for goodness sake… and he couldn’t even save his own brother.

As guilt and sorrow began to possess him, and out-of-place rustling of leaves brought him quickly back to reality. Turning, he caught sight of four enemy ninjas running through the high branches of the forest trees bordering part of the village.

“The Kuzu clan from the Uso Village,” he muttered as he leapt from the wall in pursuit. He transformed into his fox-patterned wolf form as he neared the ground, and took off as soon as his small paws touched the ground.

This form had its advantages; he could cover more ground in a less amount of time, his senses were stronger and more sensitive. However, his control over his actions was greatly lessened, for this form relied heavily on instinct rather than intelligence. As soon as his prey was in sight, he changed back into his human form.

As Yori approached the nearest man from behind, his hand grasped a large kunai from its hidden pouch on the small of his back. At this point they were walking at a leisurely pace, feet back on the ground, quite defenseless. They were talking about their kill.

As soon as he realized that they were laughing, Yori pounced; grabbing the nearest ninja’s hair, he pulled the man’s head back and sliced his throat, fast as lightning. The warm blood spilled out, covering his hand. He shook it clean as the man gurgled, mouth full of bubbling blood, and dropped dead.

The other ninjas were immediately infuriated. The man at Yori’s right grabbed a handful of shirukens and threw them systematically; he dodged them all, rushing in. In a panic the enemy ninja stumbled back, losing his balance for a split second. A split second was all Yori needed.

He swooped low, extended his claws, and appeared directly in front of the man in one moment’s time. As he rose to his full height, he punched the man with an uppercut, his claws going into the bottom of the man’s jaw. Once again, hott blood spilled over Yori’s hand.

He felt the presence of another ninja behind him. He slipped out the stiletto concealed under his sleeve by his wrist, grasped its handle, and swept out backwards with his arm-

At the moment the enemy grabbed Yori’s wrist, pushed him to the ground, and pulled his arm back behind him; his shoulder dislocated. Yori grunted into the dirt, pain traveling the length of his arm. He fitted the other blade into his free hand, but the second remaining ninja stepped on the knife, crushing his fingers with the sole of his boot. Every finger cracked and broke, leaking blood that mixed with dirt.

The second knelt in front of Yori and lifted his head by the hair. The man studied his face, twisted in fury and pain, while frowning. He then spoke.

“So much hatred,” he murmured. “Why did you attack us?”

Yori spat at the man’s feet. “You killed my brother,” he growled. His captive nodded.

“If you miss him that much, we’ll do you a favor,” he answered, and nodded to the one pinning Yori down. The man threw two needles in a vital point on his neck, a quick and painless way to ensure death. Yori jerked, and died.

The ninja holding the corpse stepped back, dropping his captor. The higher of the two ninjas stared at the young man’s body. “You should thank us,” he spoke. “We sent you to your precious brother.”

END CHAPTER