When the naive trio heard the masked Jing Xiu say this, scenes of ruthless, brutal conflict rose before their eyes.
Life was fragile as a reed, easily crushed by merciless winds.
War raged beneath the heavens, blood stained the earth, and the cries and tears of the suffering filled the land.
Iron hooves shattered mountains and rivers; blades and spears mercilessly claimed lives.
Where in this world was a haven of joy? Peace alone was most precious.
On this land soaked in blood, mountains of corpses towered starkly.
They were piled from countless ninja who had died bravely in battle.
The bodies of children, not yet ten years old, lay forever upon this land.
Their young faces still bore the terror and bewilderment they had felt before death.
They seemed to ask, "Why did we have to face such a fate at so young an age?"
The women's blood gathered into streams, flowing slowly between the mountains of corpses.
Their bodies had already been frail, yet they too had given their lives in war.
That blood seemed to be their silent accusation, their attachment to this world and reluctance to leave it.
The sight of mountains of corpses and seas of blood was too horrific to look upon.
The air was thick with the nauseating stench of blood, mingled with the smell of earth and gunpowder.
Sunlight spilled through the dark clouds onto this land, yet could not illuminate those lives already lost.
"Why? Why did it turn out like this!"
A roar shattered the grief-laden atmosphere, only to plunge the members of Daybreak present into even deeper confusion.
It was not the warmhearted, lively Yahiko.
It was not the highly capable Kyusuke.
Nor was it the timid, kindhearted Konan.
It was the quiet, taciturn Nagato.
This was the first