| abstract | - "Sayuri-chan..." A dark shadow was cast about the room, spanning one corner to the next. Along the darkness came one sole chime; the sudden fragrance of two large, flabby cushions gently kneading and caressing against a rigid surface accompanied the black void, with the occasional murmur pronouncing its legacy from within the very depths of the room, only for it all to be ruined within a moments notice as a result of a loud clanging sound booming at the doorstep. This of course concluded the fantasy featuring the hokage and Satō, one of the village elders, and the latter now found himself staggering to his front door to issue a response to the very being that had interrupted his prolific dream. He would surely pay, for interrupting him at this hour, especially given the subject of such an illusion. Nonetheless, albeit rather enthusiastically, seeing as though it was still very early in the morning, the old bearded man of superior status opened the door, only to be face to face with one of his most entrusted companions. "Satō-sama, there is an issue that requires your immediate consent!" The masked warrior bellowed, his tone suggested panic, as if the world were coming to an abrupt end. "Is it so powerful that it surpasses the importance of my sleep?" Satō inquired, who, by the look of his eyes, was not quite fully awake. "As you know well by know, two days earlier, the hokage mysteriously disappeared, and her royal guard was quickly dispatched to locate her whereabouts. However, it has since been over twenty-four hours since we last heard from them-" Before the man could finish his report, he was cut off by the old man. "I see", he began, rather calmly at that for having just intercepted the speech of one of his companions. "The situation has reached a critical level. It is evident that Sayuri-chan has not simply left on another one of her unannounced voyages, if that were the case, the royal guard would have already returned with some sort of crucial information." Satō looked to the side, mumbling something under his breath. "Not to mention she hasn't shown up for her monthly "appointment", how else might she have kept her position for over three decades..?" "Sir?" The masked man retracted, not quite sure what his superior had meant by his earlier statement. "Er, nothing. As I suggested earlier, we must take action." --- Some few houses along the path, another man of peculiar characteristics was awoken from his slumber; much like Satō, he too had awoken to some trembling news. "Take out the trash!" The scolding of an elderly woman could be seemingly heard throughout the entire village; it was the last thing Soutenchirō needed on his mind at the very moment. He never quite understood the traditions of emptying trash so early in the morning, though yet again, he was the middle aged man still residing with his parents. So long as he lived under their roof, he would have to diligently abide to their every command. "But maaa..." He complained, contradicting the presence of his hairy cleft chin. Before their mother, even the mightiest of shinobi portrayed feeble adolescence. Sticking his pinky into his ear --ridding it of the wax that had been living in their for the past few days-- the man stood up, realizing that arguing would get him absolutely no where. In time, he arrived before his dumpster, and placing the large black bag inside, he couldn't help but eavesdrop on a nearby conversation between two fellow chūnin-class shinobi. Both were female, with rather praiseworthy physiques, which took Soutenchirō all the more concentration to thoroughly decipher the containment of their speech. "They say he won't make it.." One declared, walking beside the other, strolling down the path of houses. "To think, someone could take down Kanatoko-sama." Kanatoko-sama? Being taken down? While in most cases, he would have much rather appreciated the shape of their bosoms, the very thought sent a tingle of fear down his spine. A series of questions suddenly plagued his mind. Who might have been able to commit such a sin? How long ago had he been admitted to the hospital? And most of all, why had he not known up until now? Rumors around the village were common, though no soul had it in them to create a fib of such a level. The air around him grew thick, and Soutenchirō could feel it weighing down upon him. Something was wrong. --- In the distance, a platoon of masked warriors gathered atop the hokage monument. Standing atop the colossal facial representation of the seventh hokage, they looked down upon their village, whose security they had been trusted with. With a scroll in each one of their hands, they leaped down, each heading off into a separate direction. Each scroll carried the same message, however, the script was meant only for the eyes of a select few. The message carried in each requested that the receiver report to the Hokage's office as soon as possible, no matter what they may have been doing beforehand. However, on a related topic, a renown shinobi of the leaf made his way into the Senju district, where he hoped to come into contact with the Light Bringer.
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