Five years later...
I woke up to loud noises coming from outside. Cracking, screaming, something unimaginable. I knew it wasn't just a strange noise, but something much more dangerous. It was an attack, an attack on the village!!
My small village had never seen anything like this. But I couldn't afford to lose my cool. My mother had told me to always be on guard, no matter what happened. I had learned my lesson. I had been told too many times that there was no place for the weak in this world. And now I understood it more than ever.
The noise was getting louder. I could hear screams in the distance, weapons clanging, and I knew that bandits had come. I had heard that a gang had recently appeared here that had previously operated in other villages, and it seemed that they had gotten to us too.
My parents!! I told them not to work late. They were probably already killed, I had to hide, I had to survive, I couldn't let my journey end so soon.
The bandits ran past the house, not noticing me in the basement, where I had managed to go down. I knew that in such situations, the main thing was to stay calm. I sat in the dark, not moving, not making a sound. I heard them breaking down the doors, screaming, but I stayed where I was. Knowing how to hide was already half the victory.
Time dragged on endlessly. I sat, gritting my teeth, not knowing what would happen next. I waited for them to leave, and I knew that I had to be ready for the next step.
At some point, their screams became weaker, and soon there was silence. I waited a little longer to make sure they were gone. The crack in my chest remained, but I didn't notice it. It was not the time for this. I couldn't allow myself to think about what had happened to my parents. Why? It wouldn't change anything. All I can do is survive and move on.
When the silence in the house became complete, I got out of the basement. One thought was spinning in my head: I need to leave before more bandits or a patrol come. But suddenly I heard footsteps.
Someone approached the house, their steps were firm and confident, not like bandits. They were shinobi. I had heard about these people, their reputation was well-known. A patrol from Konoha. I didn't know they came here, but I knew that they could save me. Or at least take me with them.
I stood up, carefully approached the door and opened it slightly. In the hallway stood two shinobi, dressed in standard uniform, with weapons on their belts. One was a little older, with a stern expression. The other, a little younger, seemed calmer.
They noticed me as soon as I looked out.
"Are you alive?" — the elder asked, his voice cold, but not without sympathy. He immediately understood that I was the only survivor.
— Yes, — I answered, not showing the slightest concern. — I hid when the bandits attacked.
He nodded and the next moment turned to his companion. He muttered something in response and went somewhere to the side, and the elder turned to me:
— We will take you with us to Konoha. It is too dangerous here.
I did not care where they took me. The main thing was that I was alive, and that was the only thing that mattered. For a while, I did not think about the village, about its destruction, about what I had just had to endure. I was focused on one thing — to survive, to move on, not to regret the past.
My place was not here, in this village. There was no future here. But in Konoha... There I can achieve something. I could use this place to become strong, to not be a victim. This was my chance, and I wasn't going to waste it.
A patrol shinobi came up to me and took my hand.
"Come on," he said. "To Konoha."
I nodded, and we walked toward the village gates, knowing that this was the beginning of something much bigger.