The Ruins of Uzushiogakure

The remnants of a fallen city lay sprawled across the landscape. Abandoned buildings, damaged greatly from the vicious attack, lined a streets and filled them with rubble. Burned out husks of homes that once contained the people of Uzushiogakure, a village prided on it's abilities in the Sealing Arts, left with what remained of corpses within their walls. A village damned to decay and destined to be forgotten in the scheme of the world's weaving of the pattern. It was in this place that he had been born, if you could call it being born, and it was this place that he returned to now that the combat had ended and all that once lived here had been forgotten.

Ban, the only name he had ever known he had, stood atop a ruined pillar that stood prominently out of the river that had once split the city in two, eyes moved slowly between the buildings surrounding him on the shores from behind the mask that hid his face. Hid his face? Did it hide his face, or was it his face? The reflection of the water below told nothing as he moved, leaping from the pillar to another, then another, as he approached the shore. He wasn't here for anything of importance, merely a memento, a trinket. It wasn't important really, but he wanted to be certain that the world knew from whence he was born.

After a short time searching, the masked man found what he sought. Lying on one of the rooftops, wearing the flak jacket that belonged to the Uzushiogakure jounin, was a fallen shinobi. He had taken a wound through the chest from several kunai, and looked to have been killed by them. The blood had long since dried and flaked away, but his head was intact, which was the important thing. Reaching down, Ban pulled off the headband from around the Shinobi's forehead, slipping it free and gazed down at it. The spiraling circle of the Village Hidden in the Eddies sat engraved in the metal, a chip knocked out of part of the forehead protector and a slight crack ran through part of it. The damage was unfortunate, but not unexpected, the only thing that marred it truly was a slash across the symbol. It made it look as though it had belonged to a Ninja who was a rebel from this land. That would not be such a bad thing for him.

Wrapping it around his head and across his mask, the Many Faced Beast of Uzushiogakure secured it. His red hair fell and surrounded his masked face once more, concealing the fabric hidden behind. Now, it was time to plan. Now, it was time to prepare. Now, it was time to hunt for the jutsu that would allow him to destroy those that wronged Uzushiogakure.