PROLOGUE
Justice is not guaranteed; a ninja who believes they are a simple enforcer is practices insanity.
They do not live a life of comfort. Marriage is rare, sex is common, and children are a luxury only certain clans can dream of. Far more common are sleepless nights and demented fantasies, extensive cries in showers long run cold, mindless training meant to recondition the mind. Their houses are mostly empty; dust can linger for days while on an extended mission. Their bodies are hard, conditioned to withstand torture and war. Their emotions seem to be more vivid, more real and vibrant than those of civilians. Their senses are sharpened—their gut is rarely wrong.
Shinobi live in a world of acquisitions and loss. Their patrons are usually in the business of gain; by association they are as well. Hidden villages serve as breeding grounds and homes for the ninja, and the ninja throw their lot in with the land of their birth. Other nin in other lands do the same, and these villages eye the others, occasionally forming peace treaties, occasionally violating them, in a cycle of conquering and colonization. The losses and the victories are documented, but only studied by few—the villages understand that there is no true, lasting peace. To obtain stillness through upset is a lofty goal. It is so high that most regard it as they do the sun or moon, or perhaps the clouds, for it is noted and noticed, but there is no true desire to reach or possess.
And yet.
And yet.