Prologue

"Push! Push! You're almost there!" one of the midwives encouraged from the foot of the bed. In the center of the room, a pained mother writhed in agony as she endured the throes of childbirth in their full and unrelenting force. The midwife leaned down attentively in front of the laboring woman, hands on her knees, monitoring the process and making sure everything was coming along as it should. The baby looked like it was just about to come out.

Ursa cried out in pain. A second midwife at the bedside placed a hand on her nape and gave her exhausted eyes a reassuring look. It had been so long. Ursa gritted her teeth and tried to pull herself together. The pain had reached almost unbearable levels.

Removing her attention from the emerging infant, the first midwife glanced up at Ursa. "Again!" she encouraged once more.

With a few, last, final pushes, Ursa continued to cry out in nerve-shattering pain.

"Yes, yes! That's it!" the first midwife said gleefully.

As soon as those words broke the air, the second midwife immediately came to assist the first with the newborn, helping to extract the child. Then, the first midwife cradled the infant and raised him up to chest level for the three of them to see. The midwife's eyes fell upon the infant with a curious expression, but it quickly dissipated into excitement. She beamed happily at Ursa, exclaiming, "It's a boy!"

Realizing the ordeal was finally over, Ursa breathed a sigh of relief. Her back was aching from the entire process, but pain quickly lost its place at the front of her attention. "Bring him here," she said, exhausted, motioning for the midwife to hand him over.

Ursa carefully retrieved the boy from the midwife's arms and pressed him against her chest to keep him safe. His breathing was a bit labored as she held him, and he was a lot smaller than her other two had been. She loved him nonetheless, gazing down in motherly warmth at the child as the boy wrapped his tiny hand around her seemingly oversized finger. The feeling of it brought further relief to the woman's soul. He was a tiny, fragile thing; the birth had been premature and uncertain, but it was a successful one at that. She couldn't have been more grateful. She had one of the midwives pass her a small blanket, and she gingerly wrapped him in it.

Just then, the sound of heavy footsteps making their way up the stairs reached the room. Ursa immediately knew who it was. In her world, there were few things that could ruin this moment, and the sound of those footsteps was certainly one of them.

The door opened, and a large, towering man, clothed in a washed out tunic and a thin layer of mesh armor underneath, ambled into the room. His lower legs were besmirched with dirt and dust; it was clear he had been fighting. At his entrance, the air immediately turned quiet, a mix of heaviness and fearful reverance. The man's eyes darted across the room, the scar of a blade tracing its way across his forehead and over the crook of his nose and down to his cheek as prominent as ever, until they fell upon Ursa. Nearly as tall as himself, the man carried a hefty katana sheathed upon his backside. His harsh, stony expression was marked by a full beard, gray with age like the rest of his hair, that reached all the way down to the middle of his chest. The hair upon his head had been woven into a large, shaggy braid, much like a shimenawa, that hung just above his ankles and came together into a tuft at the end. Though his gaze told of many secrets and atrocities, the iridescent pelt of dark purple raven feathers draped over his shoulders was probably the most telling thing about him. To most, he was known as none other than the Great Mist Raven—a rogue and highly revered master shinobi—but to his sons and his wife, he was simply Danzo.

Danzo Daihachi.

"Danzo?" Ursa said in slight disbelief. She hadn't expected him to show up.

"I was out training with Hakoda when they told me, but it appears that I'm too late," Danzo said as he noticed the infant. He drifted next to Ursa but kept his gaze on the child. His eyes narrowed darkly. "Is it a girl...?"

"No..." Ursa murmured. "You have another son."

In Ursa's mind, she was more than thankful he wasn't a girl. She knew what would've happened if he had been.

"Good. Very good," Danzo said. "Now give him here."

Closing her eyes, Ursa lowered her head in respect. If she had any actual say in the matter, she would've rather not have done that, but she knew Danzo well, and hid her reluctance as she handed their son over. As he took him off her hands, Danzo's burly fingers almost obscured the boy completely.

The infant had been mostly silent up until now. Though he had just been born, he could sense that something was suddenly wrong, and he began to cry as best he could. For an infant, his protests were weak and pitiful, much like his underdeveloped body.

Danzo growled in dissatisfaction. "Listen to him," he remarked, his upper lip curling in scathing disdain. "A weak set of lungs! I told you I needed strong heirs!"

The boy began to cry even more.

"I'm sorry, my love. There was nothing that could be done. Please, leave him be... He's just a baby," Ursa said.

"And a waste of my time and resources!" Danzo snarled. For a brief moment, the air hung heavy, and all anyone in the room could hear was the man's ominous huff of displeasure and the sound of a distraught child. He stared down in grim consideration at his newborn son. No one was sure what he was going to do, but then he spoke again, his voice low and dark. "Unthinkable... Such a miserable display... I expected more from my own." Danzo's eyes narrowed at Ursa, his voice rising in anger again. "Is this even my son?"

"I would never be unfaithful to you, my love," Ursa professed.

"For your sake and this child's, I certainly hope not. He might as well not be mine! Why did you even bother sending someone for me?" Danzo spat. Disgusted, he roughly shoved the boy back into Ursa's stunned arms with a snort. He started to storm out of the room, but right as he was leaving, he paused inbetween the doorframe and glanced back scornfully at his wife, "You're lucky he's male. Even so, you would be smart to get rid of him. I have little patience for low potential."

The door shut with a slam.