Konoha year 37, night.
The roots of the centuries-old clan cherry blossoms are no longer nourished by the soil, but soaked in the blood of generations of fratricide. I can "hear" that the life force of this tree has a sickening sweetness and decay - this is the curse given to me by my family's "Senluo Secret Art", which allows me to perceive the essence of life energy.
Tonight, the screams in the courtyard suddenly stopped again. I know that another relative who opposed the "blood sacrifice of Kaguya" became a victim on the altar of power and madness. The faces of his father, mother, and brother flashed in his mind. This cherry blossom that feeds on blood is the epitome of the family. It is prosperous on the surface, but has been hollowed out by thousands of years of fate on the inside.
Before dawn, I walked through the courtyard through the cold dew and took one last look at the magical cherry tree. The petals fell and fell on the wet blood, which was dazzlingly red. I didn't look back. Behind is the doomed tomb, and in front is the seemingly bright Konoha Hidden Village under the rule of the Third Hokage. That cold Anbu animal mask is the new identity I chose for myself, and it is also the coffin where the past and fate are buried.
It feels like a newbie's work.