My grandmother has a peculiar ability. She's able to walk, a jolty little walk impressed by the constant wear of time, and carry dishes nearly sideways. Nothing ever falls prey to gravity. Soup never spills out from the bowl, and the tea cups slide so distressingly to the side, but never over the edge. Never is she aware, creeping slowly along, of the danger the dinnerware seems to be in. Anything in her hands seems to abide by her little will that she should help-and that she should not be a bother.

Her feet whisper a kiss across the floor, soft, fleeting, and barely sounding. The burden imposed upon her feet is light, like a little bird. But she moves so slowly and so carefully not unlike the dishes that lean precariously to one side.

Perhaps this is all that's left of her greatness-her silence and awareness of her body and its extensions. There was a time when she carried not dishes but wares forged by Masters; Masters that had perfected the art, and the ugliness, that was killing. There was a time when the skin of her gnarled feet was stretched tightly across, and she could pad lightly across rooftops, soaring into the sky like a magnificent hawk. And from high in that vast sky, she could command hundreds of blades, enough to black out the blue, with a simple flick of her wrists.

When times were dark she stood tall among the greatest ninja of her time, the greatest ninja to come for many, many years. These dark times were plagued with monsters that could live on after death, and were so evil that the Gods themselves found watched in awe. But my grandmother, she stood there and she fought. She fought hard to protect the bonds that she had so desperately created. She came to this village, the village she would die for, without a single soul to stand by her side. And when these monsters came, she fought and fought withe the skills that made her into a legend.

She has been immortalized in textbooks throughout all the nations for her incredible innovation in both technique and tactics. She was immortalized for \being a pioneer in a field that women rarely touched. And now, as I learn of this lethal woman, I find it hard to believe that it is the very same woman that lives under the same roof as myself.

Perhaps someday, though peaceful times will never call on me to the extent they demanded of her, I shall be able to live up to her name and the expectations that are placed upon me her granddaughter. The granddaughter of Ten Ten the Weapons Mistress of Konoha.