Chapter 1: The Jinchuriki of the Twelve Tailed Beast!

Beneath the Earth's surface, the rhythmic pounding of drums resounded, overshadowing the popping bubbles atop the seething surface of the Ancesteral Magma Pit. Encircled by drummers, who stood safely on the rigid rock formations around the pit, two twelve-year-old boys emitted constant streams of chakra from their feet, using the repellent force to stand atop the flowing lava. One lapse of focus and flesh would be melted from bone in seconds.

They were identical; tanned complexion from the heat and wolf-like eyes. Their sweat-covered bodies were half-naked to withstand the heat; their foreheads were especially bare, lacking the headband of the Village Hidden in Cinders. They'd have to earn that right. The rhythm of the drums picked up, the crowd began chanting in ancient tongues. "R'af H'tu Ob'pughafug! R'ysatah! R'ysatah! R'ysatah!"

The thunderous drumming ceased; the two boys stood silent– a Chunin stepped between them, wearing his vest to signify his staus. "Kenshiro Kaito. Takibi Kaito. As a bird will one day leave its nest, you have reached the final step in your journey to becoming shinobi," the Chunin spoke with a hoarse voice; it was the byproduct of breathing in ash for decades. Arm held high as if reaching for the heavens, he displayed the prize for the winner of the upcoming bout: a shinobi headband.

"This is your prize; a shinobi headband, branded with the sigil of the Hidden Cinder Village, representing the Ancestral Flow and how we as descendants of Okami flow are one. However, there is only a single headband to be given. You must compel your adversary to yield– or take his life. Do you understand?" the Chunin's eyebrows were sunken; he couldn't hide the ghastly expression on his face. How cruel, he thought. Fate has forced these two brothers, his students, to combat each other to the death.

"I understand," said Takibi, glaring at his brother as if they were sworn enemies. 

"As do I," Kenshiro said quietly. "But, Takibi. I don't want to kill you. I think you should–" Compassionate words were meaningless to Takibi, his fist met his twin square in the jaw. Kenshiro stumbled backward; one misstep and lava would torch his body. No time to react; he caught his brother's fist just shy of his nose. There was a struggle, then a second punch was heaved and clasped. The brothers stood hand in hand, glaring into each other's hazel eyes. Takibi's were trembling– emotions were stirring deep within his id, hatred, jealousy, brotherly love, regret; they were all there.

"Please," Kensiro pleaded on deaf ears. "Yield." 

Takibi grinned; it was bitter, quivering, and fake. "I'd rather die," Takibi mumbled as he reeled his soggy head backward; Kenshiro's assertive grasp around his brother's wrists loosened. Takibi slid his sweaty hands loose and gripped his brother by the wrists. Their foreheads clashed, but Takibi still held Kenshiro in his tight grasp. Heads clashed again; a mist of blood, sweat– perhaps even tears– emanated from their bodies. Yet again, a headbutt was thrown– this time from both siblings at once. Their bloodied foreheads remained joined together for a moment; it hurt like hell, and inhaling the scalding fumes of the Pit only made it that much more difficult to breathe. 

The broken Kaito twins resembled barbarians more than shinobi; they lacked the training to cast a jutsu. Still, their heads were connected; Kenshiro balled a bloodied fist and cracked one of his brother's ribs. Takibi did the same; clenching his fist and jabbing his brother in the liver. Kenshiro gritted his bloodied teeth; the same fist that had broken his brother's rib delivered a merciless uppercut to Takibi's jaw. 

Takibi's brain bounced vigorously against all corners of his skull; his ears rang, and his vision blurred. The layer of chakra protecting his soles thinned; the heat from the Ancestral Pit nearly torched him. As if he were inebriated, he stumbled backward mere inches from the pit's edge. A backward step would be a fatal plunge into the rushing stream of molten lava below. His brother's voice was muffled; even then, Takibi could make out what was said. "Yield!"

It was as if his brother's pesky voice activated something within him. Yielding, in Takibi's mind, was a fate worse than death. Chakra focused, he stepped toward his twin, his fist balled and slashing through the steaming air. Kenshiro's palm redirected the hate-filled punch, further infuriating his twin. Takibi's nostrils flared, spewing an impatient breath. Another angry fist was thrown; again, it was deflected with a placid palm.

"Please, Taki. Yield!" Kenshiro pleaded; again, these words influenced his brother to do the opposite. A right hook from Takibi was thrown; it whiffed, Kenshiro took a step backward, narrowly avoiding it yet the sensation of hot air being displaced was felt. A left straight from Takibi was thrown; yet another calm palm was ready to deflect it. What was once a straight jab transformed into an illusive palm, slapping away Ken's hand. Takibi's right fist tightened, and he pivoted his body; his right, bloody fist sliced through the rising vapors, connecting with his brother's chin. 

Finally, an attack landed, Taki thought. Momentum shifted, stolen by Takibi; he'd earned it. A left straight was thrown– a left straight landed– for a moment his fist's imprint replaced the sweat on his brother's chest; the sweat became a mist that instantly evaporated in the hot air. His balled, right fist trembled, itching to be thrown again. Once more, Takibi pivoted his body and sliced through the air with a right hook; the displaced air was even heard through the booming drums and rumbling chants. It all culminated into a sharp whoosh; his punch whiffed. 

Hunched with fists to his chin, Kenshiro narrowly avoided his brother's all-in attack. Both boys were exhausted; fighting over the pit felt like one's life essence was being sapped away. Ken rolled his body to the side– his brother's eyes reacted, tracking him– yet his body remained frozen. Nothing was left in the tank; and so, Kenshiro right first cut through the burning air one final time, connecting with flesh and bone, rupturing his brother's liver. Takibi bellowed, and the chakra encasing his feet faded. His brother wouldn't let him die; Kenshiro hurriedly grabbed his brother, carrying him with an arm behind the knees and another behind his back. "Please, Taki. Yield."

One could only yield if conscious and Takibi was barely so. Clinging awake, he exhaled humorously; he even grinned at his brother. Eyes fighting to shut; Takibi searched his brother's soul through his eyes. "No, Ken. I will not yield," Takibi chuckled and coughed simultaneously. "This is how it has to be. You've always been the better of us both. I wanted to make you hate me so you could end this without tears..." Taki glared at the pool welling up beneath his brother's eyes. When the tears fell, they instantly evaporated. "You're such a softie, yet another reason you should lead our people, not me. My fate was to allow Okami's other half to reside within me until you were ready. You're ready now, brother. Okami belongs to you now."

Taki placed his hand on his brother's shoulder. The seal that cast one-half of Okami within him was transferred onto his brother's skin. Now, on each shoulder, Kenshiro had matching seals. With that, the Hidden Cinder Village no longer had twin Jinchuriki, there was only one. One future leader. "Please, deliver my body to our ancestors," as those words escaped from his dying lips, the light in his trembling eyes faded. He was gone; his body could not live without Okami's chakra. His brother wept; how cruel fate was. 

Kenshiro stepped toward the pit's edge, leering down at the flowing river of lava beneath him. As his other half wished, Kenshiro cast his brother's body into the Ancesteral Flow, and his lifeless body plummeted until it sunk into flowing scarlet liquid. Bubbles erupted, and the Ancestral Flow was disrupted; a few seconds passed, and the river flowed as it once was.

Tears evaporated off Kenshiro's face still. "I wish you a safe journey to the Realm of Ancestors, brother."

Without a word, the Chunin handed Kenshiro his prize: a shinobi headband. Reluctantly, Kenshiro wrapped it around his forehead.

The Yougankage, a tanned, scarred middle-aged man, approached Kenshiro, his face stern. "Kenshiro Kaito. As the sole Jinchuriki of the Twelve-Tailed Beast, fate has chosen you as my successor. May your brother have a safe journey to the Realm of Ancestors; his legacy will live on through you, as will the legacy of the Jinchuriki that came before you. Come, your Chunin training will commence at once."

Kenshiro's eyes were affixed on the Ancestral Flow; however, unbeknownst to the future Yougankage, one of his eyes had changed. His Kekkai Genkai had activated. The eye of Okami, the Karyudogan, was forced out by witnessing the death of his twin brother. As he glared at the Ancesteral Flow, he could sense a force compelling him to follow the Yougankage. Perhaps his brother, even after death, was pushing him onward.