Shadows of the Mist

"History is written by the victors," Shikaniku's tone was definite, and confident. As he stared into the mirror, admiring his own individual features in their chiseled beauty, all he could see was a man with ambitions, and aspirations. As a child, his mother would always tell him stories of his father's triumphs and successes, yet as he looked into his father's life, he saw nothing that demonstrated the fruits of his effort. He served as the adviser to the hokage, a man whose very presence disrupted the world, and caused ripples anywhere he went. However, when he would accompany his father on his duties as an ambassador of Konoha, he was subject to introducing himself; his name, his face, and his accomplishments were nothing short of unimportant to those he met. Shikaniku almost despised him for it, but his lack of accomplishments only made it that much easier for him to be surpassed by his children.

Because of his birthright, being the second sibling, he was not destined to be the Kazekage should Gaara, or Kankuro, fail to produce children, nor was he eligible to serve his clan as their faithful leader. Even distantly, his brother was set to inherit his father's position as the Jōnin Commander and hokage's second hand. It had been up to Shikaniku to carve his own destiny; hard work, and dedication ultimately provided him with the life he pursued. In midst of his thoughts, three knocks echoed from his doorway, in a particularly rhythmic pattern that every konoha shinobi could recognize. He stepped away from his reflective beauty and opened the door. One of his operatives, bearing a cat themed mask, met him with a brief statement. "Lunch within the hour." Shikaniku expressed his gratitude, and with a flick of the hand, issued an order. The shinobi flickered away, leaving a cloud of smoke in his wake. They were trained well.

Closing the door, he walked to the balcony of his own room, and stepped outside. The sun illuminated the leaves of the trees that surrounded the particularly large estate, encapsulating the surface in a piercing light that only the strengthened the shadows that rested beneath it. Shikaniku smiled at the beauty of the world; the symbolism was as strong and evident, yet it was only very few individuals with the mental abilities to detect its subtleness. Leaping from the balcony, Shikaniku leaped into the dense forest, walking in the shadow of the leaves, held up tall by the roots of the tree.