"I have... to move."
Footsteps, loud footsteps could be heard from the dark alley. A small boy with scarlet rags and striking silver hair was carrying large loafs of bread. His knees were scarred, with the blood reaching down to his blackened toes. What could be gathered from this moment is that the boy stole morsels and barely escaped a struggle with the food's previous owner. He slipped on the mud ahead of him, falling face first into the dark brown mud. Half of the food he stole sinked in the mud, as he forced himself to stand up. Thunder could be heard from above, as the heavens began to let their tears of rain fall to the world of the shinobi; a world scarred with the pain of loss and war. Unable to move any further, due to the pain he had in his knees, he rested his head on the mud; a broken-spirited child.
Morning approached, but the rain had ended hours ago. The small boy opened his eyes, only barely. His knees had finally stopped bleeding, but he felt weak due to blood loss. With slow movements, he staggered to his feet, trying to recollect his location. But before this occured, his face was hit by what appeared to be a rock. He rubbed his cheek, only to see three boys about twice his age approaching him; each holding rocks in their hands. "What the heck is a filthy brat like you doing in our alley. Get out!" proclaimed one of the children, throwing another rock at his face. The silver-haired boy tried to stand his guard but immediately fell to the ground; lacking the strength to live or to fight, he couldn't even fight back against a few rocks. The three boys ran up to the fallen four year old, and started to kick him unmercifully. The silver-haired child could do nothing but endure it, as new scars began to form around his body; both mental and physical.
Following the hours that passed from the brutal attack, the boy just laid there; he had lost all will to even stand, for fear of falling right back down. He heard villagers from outside the alley, conducting their daily business; however, nobody even noticed the bleeding boy, and for those who did, refused to even come close, let alone help. "Are you alright?" came a voice. Something sparked in the boy's head. Even such a simple phrase, brought hope to his thoughts. These thoughts were fleeting, but they existed; he wanted them to last. He accumulated his remaining strength, and looked up to see the face of a young blue-haired girl. Her face was slightly bruised, but her smile was easily evident in her voice. "What's your name?" asked the girl. The boy looked at her, tears slightly shown in his sockets. "Se.. S..." he struggled, having no force or energy left to even speak. However, he wanted those fleeting previous thoughts of hope to return once more. He mustered whatever energy he could and spoke, "S... Seire... Seireitou." The girl smiled and came over to his back, rubbing the scars left there by the three boys from earlier. "My name is Shiori. I'm glad to have met you, Seireitou." she mused. While she treated to his wounds, his thoughts were aflame with endles questions. He knew this though; considering her appearance and the very fact she approached him, that she must be an orphan as well.
Shiori had succeeded in fixing him up, to a reasonable amount. He was able to finally sit up, as he looked at Shiori. "W... Why did you help me?" asked Seireitou, his feeling of fright had not yet fled. Shiori smiled, "Well, I'm an orphan... I've been pretty alone. I gather that you are as well?" she asked. He meerly nodded, trying to save his strength from avoiding unnessicary comments. "Then... maybe we should stay together? We can help eachother." she suggested. His eyes widened at this; in so long, he felt a feeling of future hope, future happiness, and most of all, his reason for living had returned to him.