Prologue to a Story
On a sunny afternoon, well and safe in the quiet village of Konoha, a young boy was playing with his family's old kunai.
Perspiration dripped off his sticky forehead as he thrust out his hand somewhat expertly, releasing the worn kunai. It cut through the air easily and emitted a sharp, almost audible sound, but despite his mastering of the throw, the kunai were way off the intended target. He grimaced in frustration as the kunai merely embedded itself into the rough bark of the tree for a split-second and fell to the ground in a heap.
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