The Last True Shinobi

Author's note: If you haven't already garnered from the title, this is part of the "Last True" series as I've come to unofficially call it, but has nothing to do with Sly. Whether, it has a lot to do with his 14th century ancestor, Rioichi Cooper. My favorite of the Cooper ancestors would have to be Rioichi, and I've been thinking about material for a story of him and his part of the Cooper lineage. Anyway, I will most likely be having a part 2 of The Last True Crime if I find there is still more story to tell, but I also wanted to get another story out there, and I've been having this itch to write about good ol Rioichi. So, enjoy.

Legal necessities: I own nothing; Sucker Punch owns everything, except the plot and characters other than Rioichi himself. All characters and events depicted in this work is entirely fictitious, any resemblance to anyone in this story living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Tex

Chapter 1

Punishment

"They say he's a ghost, a spirit of a vengeful Shinobi wronged in his life and takes blood as his payment and tears the very soul from your bones."

"I hear that he sees his pray by tracking the scent of one's soul, and the tips of his feet so narrow, he walks across spikes like stepping stones across a river." Continuously the four soldiers shot their banter back and forth across the glowing red fire that blazed in the middle of their congregation. One began mimicking the movements of this "assassin of men's souls" the shadows he cast on the rocks behind him were of an accurate depiction of what he claimed had witnessed once before.

"It was in the dead of winter, the wind cutting so deep into the bone like the sharpened edge of a ninjato. I recall the cold, the frost causing my blade to become embedded in its sheath as locks of my hair broke off in glossy flakes of ice. It was then that I saw him."

"You saw him," one soldier, an Akita Inu leaned forward eagerly, the canine's bear like face contorting to an expression of complete anxiousness. "How did the devil appear to you? Like a wild beast or a spirit maybe?"

"No," he shook his head as he moved a paw to scratch the hairs under his head wrap. "He appeared to me as a man, as mortal as you or me. It was then that I saw him, but I did not know of his presence until afterward. He was a tall man, a very lean and toned figure, yet his body was thinner then a bamboo stock. He appeared to me, a tall solitary figure atop a white glazed hill, a strange garb hugging his body while a hood concealed his face from me.

"I turned to him, asking what his business out in the fields was, he baring not the colors of our enemy, or our own nation. He turned to me, a shadow clung to his facial features, and his head dipped low to conceal a pair of eyes that seemed to stare directly through me. It was long until he finally told me, until he finally spoke."

"You heard his voice? What did it sound like? What tongue did he utter to you?"

"He spoke in the Emperor's language, very fluently. His voice was like that of a winter breeze, soft and delicate, yet as cold and chilling as Hokkaido's blizzards. I as I said before, I asked him what his business as a civilian was out in the middle of the snow covered fields, just a few miles from our camps. And he answered me with that cold, soft voice, only one word. 'Punishment.'"

"Punishment? As in punishment for one's sins?" The soldier shook his head, breathing the crisp scent of the incense that burned on the wooden tray beside him.

"It was all he told me. Then when I was hailed back to the camps, I turned my head for one moment, and as I returned to where he once took refuge atop the grassy mound, he was gone. Not so much as a single footprint embedded in the snow."

"He must be a demon, just as everyone says," a feline spoke, blinking his blue eyes as the vertical slits of his irises shrank to the sudden harsh glow of the fire. "That man must not be of this world. He appears to everyone differently, as a shadow, as a glimpse of light, as a pair of eyes watching you in the darkness. And now he takes the shape of mortal man, walking among us with his efforts remaining unmolested."

"Susumu, you presume too much. Your young mind is jumping to conclusions and making accusations without a hint of actual fact. There is no such demon; only in stories for mothers to scare the naughty children do such ghouls revel."

"Then how do you explain what is happening back in the capitol? Where all the bodies of the lost night patrols have gone to? How do you explain no traces of anything? Not so much as a smell or drop of blood to lead us to a conclusion, not so much as a loose pebble in the roads overturned to let us know that someone was there. Only the mark, the mark that is swiftly inked on the walls and wrapped around the bolt of a crossbow."

"That is enough, Susumu. Your time in the capitol has softened your mind with the tiresome slog through the day of district patrols. We will speak no more of demons, am I understood?" The Akita somberly nodded his head and furrowed his brows defiantly, his young mind still holding the arrogance that is slowly erased with age and wear.

"Yes, sir. I understand." The dog then turned his gaze to the soldier in the far corner, sitting atop a stump while a corpse like listlessness covered his visage. "Osamu, you haven't uttered a single word since the fire was lit. Tell us, what is on your mind. Is there a story of the demon you wish to share with us?"

"Susumu, I have told you..." But his words fell flat as he noticed the silvery saliva trailing down the side of Osamu's parted lips. Slowly, he leaned forward until his face was buried in the ground, a sharp pointed appendage sprouting from his back. At once, the remaining four stood up and drew their blades; with unblinking darting eyes they surveyed every angle.

"What have I said, huh? What have I said? Everyone is thinking the same thing, I'm just speaking it. It's him, the hunter of men's souls, the demon Shinobi hungering for his payment!"

"Susumu, it is the last time I will warn you! Still your tongue or I'll have it cut from your mouth!" In a gust of wind, a blur of movement caught the attention of all that were alert to have perceived it, the flapping of the feathers against the wind as the dart sailed through the air and stabbed into Susumu's neck. Grunting, his body ceased to function as he collapsed to the floor. Three remained, yet they originally counted only four amongst them before Osamu and Susumu were paralyzed.

The captain slowly moved his eyes to his far left, glancing to the armored figure whose face was concealed by the mask of his helmet. Gritting his teeth, he quickly swiped at the intruder after he witnessed the disguised interloper feign a withdrawal. With the swipe of his own blade, he blocked the blow and quickly slipped his arm from the metal plated sleeve of his disguise and jabbed the tips of his fingers into the gaps of his armor, stabbing at the soft fabric and sensitive flesh under his metal hide while he shot out a foot to wrench the katana from the other's paws, using the two individual toe sleeves of his tabi to clutch the sword in his feet and smack the blade against the soldier's head. Three areas around his kidneys, two trailing up his back, and four, two for each arm were struck by his fingertips so quickly that the captain had not yet realized what had happened, his gaze transfixed on his astonishing display of footwork. His body went dead, his limbs ceased functioning as the katana in his grip felt thousands of pounds heavier.

Collapsing, he watched as the interloper discarded the steel plates of his garments, leaving him standing in the glowing light of the fire, dressed in the dark fabric of a shozoku, specifically the one designed for those in the art of Shinobi or "one who uses the art of remaining unperceived." The captain's eyes followed the intruder with a heightened sense, drawing in a breath as he felt the end coming for him. Instead of a blade sliding across his throat, he was jabbed in the neck by two fingers to the base, where the circulation from his brain to his body was cut off, thus rendering him unconscious. His feet glided across the damp ground as the intruder rummaged through the tents set up just a short distance away, his toes wiggling inside the tabi footwear that protected his feet from the ground as well as making his steps more silent than a falling leaf.

A long, thick grey and black stripped tail trailed behind him, slowly swaying back and forth as he crept through the stores of hoarded swag and loot from previous plundering from this particular group of military men. Pulling out a small piece of parchment, he laid it against the empty lockboxes as he brought out a small brush, the tip dripping with fresh black ink. With graceful dexterity, he swept the brush against the broad side of the tent, painting his mark upon the cloth. His breath escaped in plumes of silvery mist as he stood by the fire for a moment, smelling the precipitation in the air to the coming snow fall. A bag slumped at his side bulged with metallic riches, compensation to the wrongs and injustices given to him in his life.

Rioichi Cooper blinked his dark brown eyes, his brow turned down in a sturdy furrow as he placed a paw to rest on one of the handles of his curved daggers that dangled from his obi sash. He sighed for a moment, his body warming from the fire and began to depart as the flakes of snow began lazily drifting down from the heavens. Throwing the sack over his shoulder, he sprinted away through the trees until soil began to give way to cobblestone. Clambering up the walls that lined the city, he executed a twirl in mid jump until the tips of his feet perched atop a pointed spire. Like a bird of prey, he leered from atop his perch until he leaped from his post and landed as gently as a feather onto another roof.

The scent of thick smoke attacked his nostrils as he glance down to a dilapidated old structure near the commoner quarter of the city, near the main entrance. An old gnarled cherry blossom tree served as a bridge for him to scamper across and onto the roof of the small home where he peered into one of the windows, crudely covered by a soiled cloth. His furrowed brows rose slightly and eased away from each other as he saw rows of cots, the majority of them filled with the tiny bodies of children. Others crowded towards the furnace which was steadily growing dimmer and colder by the moment. One adult, an elderly gentleman crowded among the children as he helped to get them warm and situated into their beds.

Rioichi glanced towards the sleepy, hungry faces of each individual child before looking back to the old man by the fire. Drawing in a breath, he pushed back the curtain with an arm and slid into the sleeping chamber of the orphanage, clearing his throat noisily to grab the caretaker's attention. The elderly gentleman turned from the dimmed furnace as a wide smile graced his wrinkled face. "Rio-

His statement was silenced as Cooper placed a paw around his mouth. He pressed a finger to his lips to gesture for the caretaker to be quiet. "I've brought gifts for the children," he said, his voice sounding a bit warmer. "I hope my visit was in a timely manner."

"You're always welcomed here, Rioichi. And of course, the children never stop hounding me with when your next visit will be. Come downstairs for some tea and we can discuss your visit here." With a beckon of his paw, Rioichi followed the hobbling step of the spotted feline down to the first floor of the home. As he began to boil the water in the kettle by the small fire pit, he pulled a pair of chairs to the little wooden table in the dark chamber.

"Now, while the water boils, show me what you've brought for me today, boy." Rioichi spilled the contents of his bag onto the table, the glimmering gold's and reds and greens caused a hum to emit from the cat's throat as his whiskers twitched eagerly. Cooper cupped his paws and pushed the pile of coins to the caretaker, which he cleared his throat with a guttural hacking cough and shook his head. "No, no. That's far too much, Rioichi. I can't accept all of this without me giving you anything in return."

"You and the children have done so much for me already, too much for me to repay you fully in an entire lifetime."

"It was a simple act of kindness when you came almost half dead to our doorstep. I couldn't just leave you to die out in the cold night air. There is no need for you to be indebted to me. Besides..." his sentence died down as he heard the steam rising from the kettle on the fire. Sitting up, he clutched the warm pot and added the herbs into the water, the flavor of the leaves bleeding into the warm water and giving it a greenish brown tint. Passing a steaming cup to Rioichi, caretaker pulled back his whiskers as he took a sip. "It is far too much; the guards would become very suspicious if all of a sudden every child was dressed like a noble and this orphanage grew to twice the size it already is."

He brought a paw to his mouth as he chuckled and wiped the moisture from his lips, watching Cooper bring the tea to his lips, cupping one paw underneath the tea cup while his other clutched around it. "It is more than just for you or the children...it has also to assist in having our good Emperor begin to sweat a little, finding that his treasure stores are growing thinner while his people rise out of poverty."

"You have revenge guiding your step, Rioichi. That is a path to madness if you continue this. Don't let something so trivial rule your life, define who you are."

"It isn't something trivial! I wasn't robbed or beaten or stripped of anything. My life was taken from me! My mother, my father, they are dead because of him, and I intend to see that their souls can finally rest in the afterlife in the arms of Buddha!" He glanced up to the stairs as he realized his voice had grown loud with his outburst.

He heard no stirring from upstairs so he recollected himself and spoke more softly. "It is something I have to do, old friend. Madness or no, he has to shed blood by my hand! I have to take his life."

"You are a tormented boy. I am so sorry, Rioichi. No one so young should have to deal with what you've had to. I cannot stop you, I just pray you see through the fog of revenge and do not do something you'll regret."

"I understand...thank you. But there is still the matter of your gift."

"Please, if you're going after the Emperor, you'll need all the assistance you can afford."

"But you must take some; please...at least a new furnace for the children and better sleeping quarters. New clothing, more food, nothing too rich, just whatever is comfortable. Please, I'm not asking, I'm begging you. It's for the children."

"For the children..." The feline spoke with a nod of his head as he looked to the pile of gems that have been grabbing his wandering eyes for almost the entire conversation. "These gems will do...and a few coins for renovations. Everything else will go to you, Rioichi." Cooper slid the remaining of his loot into the bag and finished his tea quickly.

"Thank you."

"No, no. I should thank you a thousand times over for all of this. For what you've done for not just me or this place, but the children. They adore you, Rioichi, stop by more often. You fill them with hope, and in this day in age, they need all the hope they can receive." Cooper gave a chuckle and swung the sack over his shoulder.

"I meant thank you for the tea. I'll visit as frequently as I can, but for now, I should be leaving." He turned to walk quietly back up to the sleeping quarters of the children. Slinking back to the window, he reached into his bag and pulled out an eloquently carved ruby, the crimson gloss shining into his eyes from the reflection of the moonlight. He glanced towards the small bed where a child lay closest to the window.

The little grey and white fox girl lay asleep; her fluffy head resting against an old pillow wadded up and loose stitching poking out in all directions. Leaning down to the small face, he planted a light kiss on her forehead and slid the large ruby under her pillow. The raccoon always held a very large place in his heart for this particular child, she being the one who would sit with him all day long while he was recuperating from his injuries when he arrived here. She was amazing for such a little girl, so patient, so mature, and yet so adorable and innocent. Innocence was a rare thing to find these days, the girl's name, Aiko, meaning "love" "affection" and "child" seemed to fit her perfectly.

Giving his final respects, he slid out of the window and walked across the edge of the wall that lined the city, stepping lightly against the slanted, tiled tops of the walls, sprinting over the heads of patrols and late night city strollers who took advantage of the curfew being lifted for the time being. Somersaulting over a gap, he landed on the other wall of the narrow alley and ran across towards his destination. Pulling out a pair of specially designed spikes, he attached them to the soles of his feet and slipped on the palm pads that bore similar spikes as he climbed onto the side of a tall spire. As he reached the top, he balanced on the tips of his feet atop the pointed spire and surveyed the view, his sight limitless from the height at which he stood. He leapt as free and with disregard as one with no fear, soaring downward with his arms spread, his clothing flapping against him and pulling tighter with wind resistance.

Landing as weightless as a kitten on his feet, he pushed off with the tips of his feet, propelling himself forward as his arms were drawn back, a firm paw gripping the bag over his shoulder. Stopping, he clutched the side of the small building and scaled the vine covered side, pulling out a small key hidden inside a crack in the wall. Unlocking the window shutter, he slipped through and landed on wooden floors in the dark chamber. He tiptoed quietly, stepping over tripwires and pressure pads that would trigger the deadly traps he laid across his home. Sliding open the veil door to his bedroom, the bag of valuables was left against the wall.

Loosening the lace that held together his clothing, he let the fabric slide off his body as he slipped his feet from out of his tabi and unfastened the sash from his waist, setting the signature Cooper cane hooked daggers gently into their case, the red cushion that had small indentations housed the daggers perfectly in their case. Closing the case, he rubbed the base of his neck and sighed as he lit a small stick of incense and inhaled the scented smoke. A grey tendril coiled around his finger as he slowly waved it in the air, scattering the smog in intricate spirals that wafted up into the ceiling. Resting his head on the pillow, he sighed once more to the thick solitude that clung to the air around him as he finally closed his eyes.

"My son, you have finally become of age to understand the secrets of our ancestry." The large, barrel chested raccoon pulled out a book that seemed incredibly small in his meaty paws. "This book is what holds all the techniques of our family passed down from generation to generation and taught to all who used their skills as a thief." The small boy reached up to the book, but fell short as his father pulled it away. "This book is what makes the Cooper clan the masters in their element.

"This is a very important object that must be taken well care of for your entire career until you pass it onto the next generation of Coopers. Do not lose this."

"I won't, father, I promise." And with that, the boy reached up and clutched the leather bound tome that looked to have been very worn and ancient. It seemed as if all the years this book as seen was felt by the boy as he touched the worn leather. His father watched him with an overlooking eye as a grin spread across his wide face.

"You're a good boy, Rioichi," he said in the strange accent that was common in his native land. He remembered his mother telling him that his father hailed from some strange place where men wore skirts called "kilts" and lived in a place called "Scottish land" or something close to that. He grinned as his father placed a large paw that covered the entire boy's head and he playfully messed up his hair. "Go on, now. Start reading that thing closely, I can already tell you're going mad with wanting to open it." The boy scampered away as he passed his mother on the way up to his room.

The thin, petite female raccoon wrapped an arm around Slaigh MacCooper's heavily muscled forearm as they watched their son depart from them. She stood up, gesturing for him to lean down as she planted a kiss on his cheek. "What was that for, my sweet lass?"

"To thank you for deciding to stay in Japan and giving me that beautiful boy for a son."

"Now, he's my boy too. And I hate it when you call him 'beautiful' like that, Emi. He's not beautiful; he's handsome, just like his old man. You eastern people and you're funny customs."

"This coming from a fully grown man who runs around wearing a skirt all day."

"Emi, I told you, it's not a skirt, it's a kilt!" A finger was placed over his lips to silence him.

"You know I just do this to make you angry. And then how you look so adorable when I ease that temper of yours."

"You've always been able to." He wrapped his large arms around her tiny figure and stood there in the living quarters, just enjoying the warm that radiated from her body. "Why did you marry me, pretty thing?"

"Haven't I already told you this before?"

"Aye, but I never get bored of hearing it." She sighed into his chest and giggled to his fingers dancing against the small of her back.

"Because you were different then all those other men, all the men in this country treating their brides as possessions to be fought over instead of love. That's why I picked you. That...and I liked the way you looked at me whenever we met at the market place." Rioichi sat on the stairs and watched his parents for another moment, enjoying seeing how they acted towards one another together. He silently wished that one day he could be like that with someone special in his life.

But as all young minds did, his thoughts wandered off to other things. He was far too young to think about something like love at the moment. He thought silly little girls were just that, silly little girls. Always giggling and bouncing and being obnoxious. But now was not the time for girls, as he hopped up onto his bed and un-strapped the leather cords that bound the legendary Thevious Raccoonus.

He quickly flipped through pages, first looking at all the pictures and neat drawings and sketches before actually reading any of the words written on it. Flipping farther into it, he found that all the pages in the back were blank, bare of any ink at all. Quirking his brows, he decided to flip back until he stopped on the pages that his father himself had filled out. He was able to read the sprawling letters on the pages, thanks to his father's teachings of his homeland. He was able to read Arabic, Egyptian, Old English, and the Celtic languages along with Japanese that his mother had taught him.

Although his Egyptian was a bit weak, he was able to garner most of what his first ancestor, a pharaoh by the name of Slytankhamen II, inventor of the Cooper Vault that his father had taken him to see on the large tropical island when he was a year or so younger and master of the invisibility technique. His heart thumped with excitement as he wanted to learn quickly the amazing ability to conceal one's self from sight. Reading the instructions carefully, he set the book open on his bed and glanced back towards it from time to time, mimicking the sketches of how to execute the technique properly. Relaxing his body, he drew in a deep breath and opened all of his senses to the immediate world around him, seeing all the colors of his room, the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Every small little detail being absorbed into his eye as his mind held onto each color and marking.

His body began to fade away until it was almost completely erased. Rioichi gasped as he opened his eyes and saw that he was looking down at his feet yet saw only the brown wood floors. Moving a paw to his face, he was able to tell his paw was waving in front of his face by feeling alone, not by sight. He grew nervous as he felt he would disappear forever, or the paranoia that his body was moving around without him being able to tell and he concentrated on becoming seen again. He drew in breaths as his heart raced to what he accomplished.

It wasn't until a loud crash from down stairs caused his ears to perk and he grabbed the book from his bed and started down the steps. A group of heavily armored samurai stood by the door, dressed in Imperial colors as a dark, winged figure strode into the vicinity, followed by the Emperor himself. Slaigh reached for the large stone cane that leaned against the wall and hefted the large blunt object like a war hammer. "What business ye have here, bashing down my door like that? Emperor or no, ye better be fixin' it before I smack you all out of my home!"

"Slaigh MacCooper, I have been addressed by my adviser that you are behind the sabotage of my advances in controlling the other settlements of my empire. Lay down your weapon and come with me."

"Ye can take my cane when you pry it from my cold dead paws!" In a flash of blinding speed, the tall, dark figure flashed a pair of golden yellow eyes as a pair of scythe like claws reaped across MacCooper's chest, the cane flailing from his paws. He grunted, but shook off the pain as his muscles acted as natural armor. "Hah, yer not good enough to spread butter on my toast, ye damned metal buzzard!"

"The Cooper Clan shall end this night, Celt. You and your mate will be mentioned only in the history archives."

"Emi, run!" Slaigh took another deep cut to his arms and he grappled with the dark intruder, along with the four samurai that piled on top of him. Bashing them against one another, he rendered the soldiers incapacitated to his overwhelming strength. He was left with the dark seething avian as the Emperor departed, leaving matters to his "adviser". Slaigh laughed a hearty laugh.

"Come now, little canary. You may be able to pull the wool over everybody else's eyes, but not I. You won't win here, Clockwerk. Me boy's already got the Raccoonus, he's been reading it all his life and mastered every technique there is, memorizing them all without even having to read the damned thing again. It's locked away forever, away from you, me, or anyone on God's green Earth."

"As I said before, the Coopers will fall this day. You and all your wretched kind will become mere myth."

"Come at me, pidgin!" And with that, they clashed, Slaigh's brute strength only serving him as endurance as he wasn't able to land a single blow to Clockwerk's impressive speed. He was slashed to a bloody mess, the elder Cooper resting on his paws and knees as he looked up to the stairs to his sons horrified visage. He smiled at his boy one final time as the sickle like appendage of Clockwerk slowly rose up, and then was quickly brought down like an executioner's axe.


Rioichi bolted out of his bed with a start, speckles of perspiration being thrown from his body as he broke into a cold sweat during his nightmare. He shook his head as he tried to drown out the sickening thud of metal claws sinking into muscle and flesh as the echoing screams of his mother burned at the backside of his eyeballs. He sat up; reaching under his bed for the small mark on the floor, digging his fingers into the gap on the floor boards where he pulled them up and retrieved a locked box from the hiding space. Opening the chest, the leather bound tome that was wrapped in scented silk graced his chocolate brown irises. He pulled open the book, flipping through the rough pages, his ears twitching maddeningly to the crinkling parchment as he turned the pages, one by one.

Glancing to the small table in his bedroom, he uncapped the pot of ink and dabbed the tip of his brush into it, pressing the brisling hairs of the brush against blank canvas as he wrote out more notes and personal virtues he wished to develop further over the years, and perhaps share them with his future generations. He halted in mid brush stroke as he almost finished scribbling out an intricate kanji sign when he thought about his purpose as a Cooper. He was already twenty, a few years passed the age when boys were now considered men, yet he had no wife, no sweetheart, no soul mate, not a single mature female ever pervaded his thoughts. He always preferred little to no interaction with anyone, including females, thinking them as more of a distraction than anything else. He had seen what happened to men when they were ensnared by love's embrace, or seemingly in love.

All he ever heard from men was how much prettier their "prize" was compared to that of others or how soft and empty they seemed. It was his duty to keep his family name going, but he felt it more as a burden then anything else. He was trained to feel no compassion, to suppress all emotion in order to achieve victory. The mental state was half the battle, the other half was much easier, be quick, aim for the soft spots, and always strike first. He honestly never pictured himself with a woman, let alone father children.

But he remembered the words of his father, his father who he idolized and adored, proud that he was his son. How humorous it was that they were almost nothing alike, his father a mountain of a man with arms as thick as tree trunks while he, a mere six feet in height, which was exceptionally tall for anyone in these parts, but measly in comparison to his father who was a few inches above seven feet. And where his father would lift and crush boulders with his fists, Rioichi would hold a knife to someone's throat and order them to move the boulder for him. Sighing, he ran his fingers through the bristles of his hair and bit his lip to the thoughts of what this book represented. All that the Coopers stood for, all the paws that had touched it before his and all the notes that were written in each page, and of course, the dreaded day he received it.

He was only able to escape that night with his life from the technique he had learned that very night. He then realized he never really did thank his Egyptian ancestor. Perhaps one day he would travel to the desert landscape and pay a tribute to his god, this strange black jackal that was a god of the dead. Such a strange position for a god, for where Buddha smiles and loves all life and creation, the Egyptians would embrace death with open arms. He kept an open mind though, for the world and all it offered, his father was from another country after all, he had no choice but to embrace cultural differences.

He then pondered the similarities of things. After thinking for a moment, he found that the reason he wasn't like his father was because he was mostly like his mother. A slender figure like hers, and their accent similar as well as embracing her Japanese heritage as his dominant side. He remembered his father always making comparisons to him and his mother as well. His eyes began to well up with tears, eyes so identical to his mother's. The warm salty moisture trailed down a cheek, beckoning for him to reach a finger tip up to the droplet where it clung to his claw tip and hung on it before dropping to the floor.

He missed them dearly, losing them as too young an age. No child should have to see their parents die before them, but that was exactly what he witnessed. From that day, he swore to do whatever possible to slay the Emperor and his advisor, that dark, seething creature of a being. He appeared to be of liquid blackness, those glowing, cold unnatural eyes were the eyes of nightmares. It was one of the main reasons he took up the art of Shinobi, hearing magnificent tales of impossible feats of agility and dexterity that they accomplished.

Wiping out countless men without alerting a single soul. Not so much as to lift a sword in defense for themselves. Their deeds only discovered after they were leagues away, leaving not a single trace of their involvement. The way of the soldier was no path for him, his thin body unable to sustain enduring combat for countless hours, yet perfect for striking quickly and silently. True strength to him was defined as not who swings the hardest, but who swings first.

Withdrawing another sigh, he looked to the charred ash of what remained of the incense he had burned before falling asleep and laid his head back onto the pillow. He was tired of mulling over his past, present, or future. All that mattered to him was the death of the Emperor and his adviser. When that day finally would come...that was it, it all ended. Nothing else mattered, not until the deed was done. So is the way of the ninja, only the path ahead matters, all other paths must wait.