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Chapter 1

A year has passed since the Fourth Shinobi War. Kimchi has visited Konoha to discuss some policies with his plan for a new village, the Akegakure. Kimchi had always viewed the Akatsuki as a unique organization united without a single cause in mind. So, he took matters into his own hands and began what he believed to be an excellent idea. Kimchi has finished his brief meeting with Kakashi on village affairs. He begins walking slowly back to a small town on the outskirts of Konoha to stay the night in a hotel of sorts. Kimchi notices that he feels encumbered and tired but persists onward. Noticing that the forest would spit him out at his room quicker, Kimchi chooses the wooden path to arrive at his room. The ever so separate pats of his feet can be heard throughout the small forest as he inches his way through the mesh of plants and greenery. Kimchi, still being of alert senses, hears footsteps off in a distant bush to his left. Taking precaution, he throws a shuriken into the bush, hears it stick into something and continues onward to safety. The rustle of movement continues in the bush to his left, but Kimchi pays it no attention. Kimchi begins to wonder what is happening. “My senses are dulling, I’ve become sluggish. Is it time?” he says under his breathe continuing his sickly walk. A shuriken comes wizzing past Kimchi’s face and startles him enough to spin around and face his assailant. The man is of medium stature with long brown hair and a fox like way about his pacing. “Kimchi Yashi,” he says as he continues his pacing. “Fire style, Fire Bullet,” Kimchi says frantically for cause of his lost patience. The attack seemed to have directly landed. The smoke subsided, yet the same figure stood before him, sly as a fox. “I missed,” Kimchi pants. A grin breaks across the assailants face as he continues his pacing. “You’re dying Kimchi,” he says, “How is your absolute knowledge helping you now?” “Fire style, Fire bomb” Kimchi exclaims, “With the large range on this attack maybe I’ll land a hit this time,” Kimchi thinks to himself. The smoke subsides again and to Kimchi’s surprise the man still stands before him pacing. He bites his left thumb and spreads the blood onto his right palm, “Summoning jutsu,” he says, finally tired of this useless fight. Kimchi can feel himself fade quickly. When the smoke clears, the assailant catches a glimpse of the rare summoning blessed upon Kimchi. His right arm is covered in a red flame of sorts and in its clutch a bright blue flaming sword. Kimchi inhales deeply and moves rapidly towards the foe. The distance is closed quicker than the assailant could react to. Kimchi moves his left hand to support the sword for a reinforced swing. Mid-swing Kimchi feels something inside of his brain. Kimchi falls to the ground, blood pouring from his eyes and mouth. The assailant in fear of being caught runs off and returns to Konoha. The room is white. He fixes his gaze on the two men standing in front of him. The man on the right is sitting with his legs crisscrossed, missing his right arm. The man to the left stands upward with the posture of a samurai with his hand gripped where a sword should be, however, a sword does not rest in the bright blue sheath. Kimchi raises off of his hands, and catches the eyes of both of the men. “Thank you,” Kimchi says, “But I have one last request.” The mood across both men’s’ face adjusts to one of reasonable interest. Both men say simultaneously, “And that is?” with an inquisitive look about them. “My brother, Kurie. I ask that you choose him as your next master.” The men look at each other and back to Kimchi. “Why?” they ask. “I fear the groundwork I have set up with be taunted with. You two are my strongest assets and I feel that you would help Kurie continue what I have begun.” The men look at each other again, the hardened look on their faces softens. “It shall be then,” they say genuinely. “Thank you,” Kimchi says, he then gets on his knees and bows his head to the ground. After he lifts his head back up, both men are gone and the room begins to fade. His body lay in the forest, blood surrounding himself and covering his face. Yet, a smile has still crept across his blood stained face. <p/>

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