<br/>An aspiring Kunoichi from the village of Higakure - Momoko Hanareshi passed through her class, and exams with exceptional grades, despite her uncanny desire to goof around. Most of her childhood was spent designing strange Jutsu - from changing frogs into rabbits, or creating illusions of herself with tangible flesh ( that an instructor even mistook for her once on a written test day)<br/><br/>After graduation day..the legacy of a missing scroll - one with the power to change the world started being quoted more lividly. Eventually, through reconnaissance and effort, many groups of Ninjas located the shrine - fighting battle over battle in front to get in, but no matter how hard they tried, no entry was accepted. Frustrated, spending months trying to decipher the message on the talisman outside, the village of Higakure finally found the answer..<br/><br/>"One woman, in the age of her prime may enter at any day. No more, no less. No safety, no rest." With a livid picture of something that looked like..a naked woman, back arched and moaning was deciphered from the last rune. Momoko, being the only Kunoichi of the village in that age range, was reluctantly sent - and, naturally, reconnaissance told the village of the abilities of some of the monsters - and in turn, they taught Momoko some ..strange, and obscure Jutsu - which she never did quite understand the meaning of - but her natural proficiency with wind and air ninjutsu allowed her to pick up quickly, and devise her own techniques.<br/><br/>Giving a brief goodbye to her two sisters ( 28, and 14 respectively) and her parents, she takes off....<br/><br/>Arriving at the shrine, the young girl presses one hand firmly against the door, searing light shooting out from underneath her palm... and she vanishes into the labyrinth... not really having a clue of what was inside...<br/><br/>******************************<br/><br/>She finds herself in a small, stone chamber. It looks ancient, as if undisturbed for centuries, yet no dust lies on the floor. The air is perceptibly damp and chill, and bits of moss grow from between the cracked tiles on the floor and along the walls. An old wooden door, slightly warped, stands ajar. A faint light from the next room provides the only illumination. A faint smell of something sickly-sweet, though not quite that of death and decay, drifts through the room. All is quiet, except a faint *drip-drip-drip* in the corner, and the sound of her own breathing.