Semi SI-OC story, because I have too many ideas, and thought "why the hell not?". If I'm joining the dark side, I might as well throw my stuff out there.

This starts out chronologically, but after the third chapter, I'll just be writing whatever interactions with canon characters come to mind.

Roshi: Death

Roshi laid in wait, carefully, in the underbrush. Every breath was slow, methodical, as he tampered down on his chakra signature. A squadron of fellow Iwa nin hid themselves in formation, a few meters behind him.

In the red-haired man's wake, was the sight of a small village. Murasaki Village, just thirty miles from Kannabi Bridge. A basic settlement, near the border of the lands of Grass and Fire.

A prime place to target, to push Iwagakure's forces through and into the Land of Fire. Closer to their goal of Konohagakure.

It was currently in the middle of the Third Shinobi War. There was no room for error, or softness, when in war.

Murasaki Village will have to be destroyed, as all the people within it. Even women, children, and the elderly.

That was one sacrifice, amongst many others, that would be made. No matter if the Land of Grass was a neutral place, stuck between so many titans of the ninja world, and truly didn't deserve to be invaded and destroyed. Annihilated, thrown to the wayside, just so forces could get to another target past them…

No. The man shook his head, his mane of hair bobbing. He couldn't start doubting himself, doubting his orders, doubting the entire damn war. Rock's forces were already bulldozing straight through Grass. No use backing out now.

Raising a hand, he gave a signal to his squad to move in. In a pulse of chakra, the figures body-flickered into the village.

A few hand seals later, and dozens of people were already crushed under the debris of caved-in buildings.

It was sickeningly easy, destroying the village. Land of Grass generally made their houses of light materials—timber, hay, coats of mud, dried grasses woven together.

It was even easier to burn it. All he'd had to do was form a bit of chakra within his mouth, and spit a projectile of lava onto a house's roof. Since many of the settlements were connected, the fire spread from one woven hut, to the next.

In a whirlwind of ashes and rubble, Murasaki village was no more.

Feeling detached, the Jinchuriki body-flickered to the previous meeting point of his squadron, waiting for his subordinates. A minute later, they returned. All but one.

"Where's Rantetsu?" the squadron leader asked, voice gruff. He surveyed each of his squad members. The youngest and cockiest—a boy who barely scrapped by as a teenager, and a Chunin—was notably absent.

"Dead, Roshi-taichou," answered the next in command. "I found his body collapsed outside a house, near the Western edge of the village. Stabbed through the heart from behind."

"Did you find who killed him…?" Roshi asked, brow furrowing. A mere civilian wouldn't be able to kill a Chunin, no matter how young or arrogant said Chunin was.

He didn't think there'd be any shinobi in this back-waters place. There shouldn't be.

The rest of the squad shook their heads. The Jinchuriki was hit by the sudden realization that there wasn't a sensor or tracker in their damn squad. Their squadron was sent to the front lines to hit hard and fast, with good combat specialists.

It was the exact reason why they'd made him lead said squad—those that contained beasts within them had great power. Perfect for mass-scale destruction. But not for much else.

"We'll fan out and search the West, for ten minutes. We can't waste any more time than that; it'll have to do," Roshi ordered curtly. A few nods, and the squadron was off.

Along the way, the ninja killed a few survivors stumbling out of the rubble with well-thrown kunai and shuriken. It did not matter if they were wailing children, or weak-footed young men and women who were burned to crisps or missing limbs. They were all obstacles.

Rantetsu's body was rather distinctive, amongst the rubble and dead civilians. His ninja clothing and hitai-ate were flashy, contrasting against the simple, dull colors surrounding his corpse.

Roshi idly wondered what he would tell the boy's family. Perhaps not much. Casualties were common in war, especially the young greenhorns that were thrown out into the battlefield to fill the ranks.

Perhaps the death of Rantetsu will scare away his younger brother, Gantetsu, from the path of shinobi. Perhaps it will only fuel the brat into becoming stronger, so he will not fall, like his brother.

In all honesty, a thirteen year old shouldn't have been thrown into this squad, for this mission. But the boy was said to have been very good at demolition, despite not having the kekkei genkai, or even being a part of the Explosion Corps.

The search around the building and nearby foliage didn't turn up any clues. Any footprints were lost under the ash and rubble. A lost cause, and waste of time.

Except…In a nearby home that Roshi passed he…felt something.

The man paused. He tried to strain his senses.

There. A chakra signature. Small and feeble, but—alive.

A shift in the rubble. A small, almost silent rasp. A glint of red eyes and red-tinted steel.

A small child was hiding under the collapsed, smoking building. She stared up at him with wide crimson eyes, full of emotion. Fear—but also determination, hatred, grimness, maturity, and sheer bullheadedness.

"Roshi-taichou…?" asked one of his subordinates, from two huts down.

One more second of staring quietly at the pale-featured child—skin and hair as white as moonlight—and then the bearded man turned away.

"We've eliminated Murasaki Village. All survivors are most likely dying from injuries and the smoke—if not, by starvation from being trapped under the rubble. Let's move out, to our next target," he spoke calmly and firmly.

He ignored the look boring into his back, from the small girl hidden under the collapsed woven structure.

He should have killed her. Put her out of her misery. Taken revenge for his comrade, Rantetsu—because this little girl was the one who killed him, he'd realized, taking into account the height of the boy's fatal wound, and the bloodied knife clutched in the girl's hands.

This little wisp of a girl was a ghost of death, that should be snuffed out. There should be no logical reason for him to leave her alive.

And yet…

And yet, he did.

Maybe he was just…sick of the death. Sick of killing children, and leading children to die. Sick of killing the weak, when he was meant to protect them.

Maybe he didn't kill the girl, and ushered his squadron away from Murasaki Village, because he could respect the child's strength and tenacity. She killed a mid-ranked ninja with just a plain kitchen knife—then was intelligent enough to escape her home, use the nearby destruction as camouflage, and escaped the notice of the ninja that came and decimated her entire village.

The girl was already at rock bottom. Her existence had been completely and utterly destroyed. All she had left was a dead village, and her own life.

Let's see how she comes from this, then…How much of a survivor she is.

Hell, for all he knows, she'll be an enjoyable opponent to fight, when she's older.

…That'll be his excuse for being soft and not putting the child out of her misery, when he had the chance, and he's sticking to it.