Hi everyone, i've pushed myself through lots of fics and there always were multiple things that were total deal breakers to me and just ruined the fun for me personally. So i decided to write my own. i do not own Naruto. This is the first "book" i am trying my skills on and english isn't my first language either - have mercy :)

Chapter 1

I lived a boring life. A life that was longer than what i would have liked. A life i spared due to social standards, deeply ingrained in my very being. In general i would say that my life was average though. Family problems during childhood leading to betrayal and abuse, bullied during school for being different, misunderstood due to being emotionally incapable as an adult and generally depressed. Nothing special and definitely not the worst you can get and yet it still surprises me today just how much influence all of this had on my character. Humans seemed so pathetic to me, stupid almost with their ridiculous antics to stroke their own egos which just made them seem like stray dogs having a cat-fight over a piece of garbage in my eyes. Nothing i wanted to be part of so i avoided it as best as i could, living at the edge of society. Truly what a rotten world we live in ....

A heavily wrinkled old lady stared out of the window, her milky white eyes staring at where the sky should be as if she could see the heavy gray clouds casting the gray skyscrapers into shadow. Her frail body already unable to move anything apart from her head struggeled to pump enough oxygen through its lungs to save itself from suffocating. The heavy frown eased as she turned back. She was tired of being confined in this dying hull of a species she despised so much. Truly tired. She almost welcomed the feeling of being too weak to breath further, if tht was the feeling of death. With a last deep breath her head fell to the side, eyes wide open, a ridiculing smirk on her pale lips.

On a dry field a middle aged man was tending to his crops. The last few years had been hard. The dry season didn't seem to end and the earth was starting to crack. Even though he was doing everything he could, considering the decrease in harvest and the increase in agitated wild beasts, surviving this winter might require them to relocate. As poor farmers their little wooden hut was everything they had and leaving would ruin them just as much as the current situation did. Sighing the man stood up and brushed his graying hair aside. His tired eyes rested on the horizon as the sun bagan to paint the sky orange. It was time. If he wanted to catch anything decent to eat for his wife, he had to go now before the true owners of this primordial land woke up. Contesting with the ancient god beasts wasn't something humanity was able to do. Even though these monsters were highly intelligent, even sentient, they weren't exactly forgiving. Arayan pushed the wooden door to his hut open and grabbed the old bow leaning against the wall. "Dear, im going hunting. Don't leave the hut while im gone." He always told her the same, even though she wasn't able to leave either way. Irayas legs were paralysed. A horrible accident had left her unable to move and mentally unstable, yet he couldn't abandon her. Without her his life had no meaning.

The forest was quiet today, too quiet almost. He had been checking the hunting traps for 2 hours, but all of them were empty. Not even animal tracks could be found. Leaves were littered all over the ground, so dry that every step he took resulted in a loud crackle. At this rate he wouldn't catch anything and the shadows the trees were casting were getting longer and longer. Arayan decided against checking the last trap further in. It simply was too dangerous. Grumbling he turned around only to freeze in place. Somehow during his pathetic attempt to find anything to kill, something found him instead. In front of him stood one of the most respected god beasts. The enormous body that looked like a strange cross of a horse and a deer, the powerfull gleaming white scales, the elegant head with an long glittering horn, the wise eyes shining from within in a pure golden glow - the Celestial Qilin. He did not dare adress this ancient one. Instead Arayan quickly lowered his head, respectfully waiting for what was in store for him. "Human, your path leads elsewhere. Return. May the guardian of all souls reach and guide you to where you all belong." The voice inside his head was calm and pleasant to hear. He wanted to listen to it, hoped that this moment would last, his body frozen in an awkward bow, his mind elsewhere. Listening to the true voice of god beasts was always dangerous without a significantly powerful soul as they spread the shinigamis words. The nearing chimes of countless bells brought the poor farmer back to his senses. Confused he raised his head and looked back towards the edge of the forest. The view that presented itself was shocking. The minutes ago deadly quiet forest was now filled with beasts. Predator and prey were peacefully walking towards the sound of the bells in an almost tranquil manner. No agression, agitation or fear was radiating from them as they continued onwards in a steady gait, pulling Arayan along. Upon reaching the edge of the forest he was finally able to see what caused the comotion. A long progression of priests in white robes was slowly moving towards them while carrying a white silk palanquin heavily adorned with golden bells. In the middle of pure white pillows sat a maybe 10 year old girl with strangely gray hair, pure white skin and lips, faintly glowing white markings all over her body and steadily graying eyes with an unsetteling glow. The shrine maiden. A soulless body. The shell to summon their guardian. Finally they were here. The shinigamis they prayed to had warned them months ago about the end of the world as they knew it. The Apocalypse, the breaking of primordial law, the true end. The profecies stated that someday a foreign goddess would decent to gift them power which would ultimately break their reincarnation cycle, destroy the souls to make way for new untainted life. Without a better solution or the power to stop said goddess the cardinal of the cycle, their religious core, had ordered the migration to Gōsutobirejji. Migration was a sensible term for what was happening during the last months as the empty hull on the palanquin steadily lost color by feeding yang energy to the priest to keep them moving and absorbing yin energy from the dead. The very dead that stained the path behind the progression blood red. Their belief required them to disregard their mortal shell to safe their souls. Without their reincarnation cycle everything would be lost unless the guardian could be awakened to carry their souls on this migration as their goal was the village where only the dead could enter.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Hastily Arayan crossed the dry land between his hut and the forest to get his wife. She would be delighted to be able to entrust her soul to the maiden instead of dying of hunger. Upon entering the hut his wife was already sitting in bed, her usually empty gaze was raptured, a happy smile hanging on her lips. She didn't talk, but she readily helped him pick her up more easily. The chimes had reached them by now but the priests did not stop. Their eyes closed they respectfully walked through the rivers of blood caused by the countless beasts. Arayan opened the door and stepped outside. This was a mass suicide and he was very well aware of it, yet felt no aprehension. The soul is their true self and can never be lost no matter the cost. He reached for his bow and quiver and took 2 arrows handing one to his wife who immediately, without any hesitation slashed the sharp arrowhead across her throat. Blood spilled on her dress staining it a beautiful red as her body slowly leaned forwards, slipping away with an intoxicated smile. A strange white aura erupted from her back and was pulled towards the shrine maiden whose hair already glowed pure white even emitting white fog. Arayan could not have been happier, the conditions necessary to awake a shrine maiden into a soul vessel to then become a soul guardian were plentiful. In all records that the religious cycle was aware of only failures were recorded. This time however the vessel seemed to be ready only missing the final push. Deterined the farmer grabbed his weapon and stabbed the arrow trough his neck, his last act of strength.

As his body fell into the sea of blood the empty eyes of the shrine maiden shone brightly, her body shuddered. At the light splash among the heavy smell of blood she broke the peaceful silence. Her detached voice barely loud enough to not be drowned out by the chimes. "What are you doing?"