"Kazu, take this." The red-headed woman quickly handed something to a child who looked no older than four. "Go, run. Mommy will be back."
Kazu looked at his mother with saddened eyes; her violet eyes lovingly looked at her son's blue ones one last time. He was deeply saddened.
I wanted to live a peaceful life this time around, one without the worries. The red-haired Kazu said to himself as tears welled up in his eyes.
It had been almost 4 years since he had been reborn into this village, as a civilian, of course, with little to no control over chakra. He had seen the miracles, the jutsus performed with the hand signs. He had witnessed shinobi wandering around the small village he lived in; they didn't visit often, but they weren't considered friendly.
He was once a diehard Naruto fan in his teenage years, the one who often argued with One Piece fans online until finding out that both of them were sub-par, unimpressive TV shows as he got older.
Life for him was peaceful; it was nice, and he had taken it for granted, not realizing it was as fragile as a shard of glass.
He had heard of the tales of the new Mizukage, the supreme leader of the shinobi of Kirigakure. A man of below-average height yet possessing great strength comparable to that of sea beasts and krakens. A "monster" in human skin.
The land of waters would be a great place if not for that short bastard amd his anti-bloodline act.
"Mom, will you come for me after it's over?" He asked her; she nodded her head and gave a slight smile with her tear-stained face. He sniffled and wiped her tears with the back of her hands.
Her shaky hands grabbed the boy's shoulder. "Yes... Yes, I will, baby." Her voice cracked because of the intense emotions she felt: sorrow, sadness, and the pain of separation. "Stay strong and don't be reckless, okay?"
"I will." Kazu shed tears as he held onto the bag of rations he was holding on to.
If a normal child were there, he would have been crying and rolling on the floor, but Kazu was not a normal child.
He was an old man who had already lived life once; the bonds he held with his mother, his father, and friends were not the same as the ones in his previous life. He was already used to it, losing someone you love dearly in front of your eyes.
He felt pain, a great pain in his heart, an everlasting anguish as he was being forcefully separated from his mother.
"You Fucking Bitch, Open the fucking door!" The voice of a man said from outside the door. Kazu's mother gasped and covered his face with a hood, hiding the promiscuous red hair.
His mother lifted him and placed him outside the window. She spoke with a whisper, "Go, run."
The boy nodded and ran away from the house; he didn't look back, fearing what he saw could scar him for life. Tears streamed down his face; he wiped them off with his shaky and frail arms.
As he dove into the bushes, he could hear the screams and pained cries of his mother. He sat there for a moment, unable to run anymore. His legs were still growing, and he was a barely 4-year-old child.
He rested in the bush for a while, silently sniffling, hoping no one could hear him. The screams from his house died down; he feared the worst. Even then, he didn't look back.
He was scared, petrified of seeing what had happened to his mother.
His mind raced through the outcomes, unable to see one where his mother would return to him.
He peeked out of the bush, not out of curiosity but out of fear, fear for what had happened to the woman who birthed him.
A few villagers had gathered around the front of the house, some with wide eyes, some with hands over their mouths like they were gasping.
In the center of the crowd, he saw something, or rather someone.
He saw red; crimson red blood dripped down from his mother's likely corpse, a shade darker than her hair. His body shook in anger and fear of the worst.
His eyes dilated to the extreme, and he looked at her for a moment; a pained expression was present in her face, one that wasn't disappearing.
His eyes gazed at the man who tightly held on to the locks of her hair, dragging her through the streets.
Tan skin, blue hair, and a slight stubble. He wore his Hitai-ate on his forehead like many shinobi did. The man was burned into his memory.
The boy bent down, his hands clasping his head as he whispered in a hushed manner. "No... No... Oh God, please no."
He first wondered if it was an awfully realistic nightmare, then he came to terms with reality soon enough.
He stopped crying after a few minutes, the sorrow now replaced by anger.
Silently, he vowed to take revenge on his mother, but first he needed to run. he wasn't sure if the villagers had informed the shinobi of his presence, but he couldn't take unnecessary risks.