This article, History of the Beast: Delve into Tennaito, is property of Cold hard steel.


In a forest off of the border between the land of Sun and the feudal lands, there stalked a tall, dirty, fearsome man. Upon closer inspection, you would find that this is not a man, but a beast. And upon even closer inspection, this beast's hands-or mandibles, if those are what a beast has in place of hands-are drenched in blood. Had he-if it is a he- been hunting? If he had, then what did he hunt? Why did he hunt it? If this beast can truly be human, then could it even be plausible that he hunts his kinsmen? There are too many questions surrounding this figure, and he has only just appeared in this world, or at least been acknowledged. But as things do, even this beast has a history...


Winter Evening Ten Years Ago

A house in the land of ninja rested easily in a corner of the forest off of its own village, lights streaming from the windows like a beacon on the shore of a foggy sea. It was cold, and the moon was shining so clearly it was as if the positions of sun and moon had merely been exchanged, and the change in lighting was very little, if at all. In this house, there rested, a family of five, a father, mother, two brothers and a sister. They were all in one room, having a quiet time of rest, after all, the day had been long and tiring. The father and older brother were both ninja, and they both had gone on missions that day, but came back quickly nonetheless. The mother had worked overtime at the shop she was employed at, and the sister and younger brother had come back from the academy later than usual because of studying for the upcoming exams.

The younger brother had been uneasy all day, with a feeling like something bad was going to happen to him wherever he went, and he was especially jumpy. He had always been a little afraid, and he was sometimes teased by his classmates. But he looked to his older brother for support, and his sister ad he were wonderful friends, so it would not be inappropriate to say that he was happy. This spread to his family, and they lived together in harmony, going about their business as usual despite the younger brother's feelings. At fourteen, he had not yet filled out, still thin and relatively wiry, but he had his moments of strength. He had slightly longer hair, which was black as coal, a trait shared by the rest of his family except his father, whose hair was bright orange, of all colors.

The younger son felt tired, and he went to get to bed, for he probably had another full day of studying ahead of him. As he left, his family said goodnight, and at the moment he left the room, the younger brother had a sudden urge to cling to his family, but he fought this off as he might be joked at, teased at even more, which he hated. He fell onto his mat and drifted off into an uneasy sleep, still aware that something could happen.

And it did.

He suddenly woke to shattering glass, and was extremely afraid to move from where he lay, as if the most miniscule movement would bring his death. He eventually gained his breath again, and slowly rose to goo downstairs, hoping to find the source of the sound. As he got to the bottom of the stairs, he had that feeling again, and as he heard tired breathing, his own breath hitched in his throat, as if it wanted to give him away to whatever being had intruded into his now completely dark home. He knew it. He just knew it. Something very, very bad had happened. And it happened to him.

he carefully, took a few more steps, feeling his way along the walls to make sure he didn't bump into anything, but he felt something wet. and he knew what it was.


He could tell by the rawness of the scent, and he felt like he was going to throw up. He was constantly hoping, wishing, praying that nothing had happened to his family. And suddenly he tripped over what was a long, hard object on the floor. The boy fearfully felt around for it, and noticed that it had hair. And skin. And clothes. He quickly backed away, as if the human he had tripped over was about to attack him and kill him for his clumsiness.

But he was stopped short by arms shooting around his neck, restraining him, and a voice spoke. "What do we have here...? Well, it seems We missed one..." and the boy felt himself be dragged into another room, struggling all the while, but to no avail. The window in this next room was directed so as to catch as much moonlight as possible. But what the boy saw next broke him.

His sister lay stripped and dead on the floor, in front of a rogue ninja who had a look on his face as if he had just won a championship sport. Crazed and wild, with a hint of victory. This face would be etched into the boy's mind for eternity, and he hated it. The man spoke, "We did miss one, indeed. Kill 'im off just in case," he said, motioning to the boy's holder to finish him off.


He would not die here, like this. Not when his parents and brother and sister had died, most likely for him.

Inside the boy, something snapped, and it fueled him. He broke out from his captor's grip with ease, and when the criminal saw the boy's eyes in the moonlight, he realized something.

He was screwed.

The eyes were filled with such hatred, such... anger... that he staggered just from looking at them. Next thing he was knocked on the floor, with the wind beaten out of him, pain shooting through his body. The boy felt strange. He had never felt this before, this raw power and hatred and loathing towards another human. He was completely silent. And he remembered something. His father's tools. They would be useful. But he didn't have time to act, as the other rogue rushed him from behind, but he was caught in the stomach with the boy's elbow, sending him flying a few feet. he boy quickly ran to his father's room, grabbed a special ninja bomb, and found a spark strip. He leapt down the stairs, and was in the room over his dead parents and brother, with the rogues across from him. He held the two objects aloft, and the rogues tried to move towards him. But when the boy lit the fuse and gave light to the room, the two offenders saw that they had three seconds to get out before they died.

But the bomb had already hit the floor, as the boy had somehow flashed outside the house. He was walking away, and a bright light and loud sound accompanied by heat and force came from his home, sending two figures flying outwards. They landed, and after a few seconds, rose shakily. The boy was at their spot immediately, ad picked one up by the hair, kicking and screaming, away from the other into the darkness where all the rogue could hear was a tearing and snapping and agonizing screams, and the boy was on top of him.

he instantly regretted ever coming to this place, even more so ever getting this idea. And that was the last thought he ever had and a hand was driven into his neck, piercing it completely.

After the fire burned out, the boy went to retrieve a few things.

A kunai from his father, a scrap of fabric from his mother's dress, and what was left of it, a lucky jacket that survived the blaze that was his brother's and finally, a ring from his sister.

That night, a neighbor watched a figure run from the house into the forest, never to be seen again.

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