I admit, though I believe the bare bones of this story are true to the comics, I have made up the details of the incident in flashback. Perhaps this is the way it would have happened in the cartoon universe rather than the comic if the two disagree?

This chapter made me change this story's rating from "K" to "T," although, I probably should have changed it a long time ago. Still, be warned major sadness and horror ahead.

Drip, drip, drip …

There was no other sound. Later, Usagi would be grateful they had not done something about it. Perhaps they'd been in a hurry. Perhaps they'd underestimated his ears. Whatever reason they'd allowed that slight sound to continue, it had announced their presence to him. He'd protected his Lord for another night.

He'd spied their forms beyond the screen. His Lord slept alone that night. He'd been up late doing important work for his people and had not wished to disturb his wife and son's sleep by slipping in among them. So, Usagi had guarded his lord's sleep alone while another retainer had guarded his wife and son. It had been done before. Both spouses would afterwards greet each other in the morning and ask about each other's sleep. Their son would greet his father with a wide smile over his breakfast.

That night, Usagi studied forms he could see through the screen appearing there as the dripping grew louder. They were shadows seen thus. Something hung from where a hand should be at each of the forms' left sides. They moved smoothly toward where his lord lay.

Usagi tightened his form like a bowstring drawn back. Then he sprang. "Willow Branch" slashed through the screen. He gave a battle cry as he followed, "Hiiiiiyah!"

He brought "Willow Branch" perpendicular to his torso. Then he swept it forward. Blood dripped from "Willow Branch's" edge. Both heads rolled across the floor along with two others. Usagi's eyes widened.

Four heads? There had been only two intruders. He'd only killed two at least.

Light shone through the screen. His lord must have lit a candle. Usagi squinted. As his eyes adjusted to the new light, he squatted down to study the heads on the floor.

Two of them had squinted, frozen eyes. These could just be seen through slits in black hoods covering all else. These must have belonged to the intruders. He looked to the other two heads.

His heart froze. His mouth dropped open. His stomach squeezed. Bile erupted up his throat into his mouth. He shut his jaws and lips and swallowed to keep it back. His heart then hammered in his chest. His eyes widened, and then watered. He stumbled backward. No! No … no, no, no!

His body froze. Another thought passed through his mind. Lord Mifune! Lord Mifune must not see this!

Usagi turned around. Mifune stood behind him. His eyes took in the sight behind Usagi that his Samurai had just seen.

Usagi fell to his hands and knees before his lord, preparing to speak. But then a roar filled the hall, the house, the valley beyond. Usagi kept his own mouth shut throughout it. Nothing he could have said would have been heard. The cry, shout, challenge from his lord held all the fury within Usagi's own heart and more. After all, he had only been their guard. He had never been a husband or father. Usagi winced at the sound of his Lord's misery anyway.

The sight his Shogun was seeing filled him with shame. The lady of this land, Lord Mifune's wife with her hair still in its sleeping braid, but her beautiful face no longer attached to its beautiful neck. Nearby, their son's head ... Their bright, beautiful boy had pulled him into his games at times, just the other night in fact. They had both stayed up late and outside to listen to night sounds together. His Lord had not objected to these "playtimes." He had hoped it would grow his son's fighting spirit and his trust in his most loyal guard. Much good that had done it seemed … The boy's mother had often looked on with a gentle smile gracing her face. Lord Mifune, also, had watched sometimes with an amused grin until his son noticed his presence and ran to him.

As soon as his Shogun's roar faded away, Usagi spoke up. "I am sorry, my lord! I am so sorry! It was my duty to protect them, prevent this! I am sorry! So, so sorry!"

Usagi began to sob, a further addition to his shame. He pressed his lips shut hoping to speak again when the faltering in his voice had vanished. He pressed his face into the floor until its expression could be made straight and emotionless again to face his fate. He well deserved it. He felt his chest and throat tighten. Both his goals seemed to be slipping farther away in his last moments. Perhaps he had been too young for this job after all …

The Shogun spoke. His lord's voice sounded chocked above him. Usagi felt a sense of awe and wonder as he listened. "Never, Usagi. This could never be your fault. Nor mine."

Lifting his head, Usagi saw Mifune's paw raised over his body shaking as it pointed to the two bodies on the floor behind him. "It. Is. Theirs! Theirs, and whoever hired them! And. They. Will. PAY!"

The last word was also a roar. Usagi's face grew grim, creasing into a grimace of fury. For, he knew it was true. The one who'd hired these ninja, who had, according to the peaceful expressions on their faces, beheaded his Lord's wife and son in their sleep, would pay. The one who'd sent them would pay just as much as they had. No. They would pay more.

. . .

The memory washed over him, almost always did when he heard the word: Ninja. The Samurai was breathing hard. His headache had returned. Usagi squinted at the wall straight ahead of him no longer able to look at the nezumi at his side.

He forced one word out of his mouth. "Why?"

"Why? I wanted my sons to be invisible, invincible, and inciteful, so they could survive in a world that would not welcome them."

Usagi's eyes narrowed further. His breathing grew even harder. The nezumi saw this, sighed, and spoke on. "My sons and I try not to use any of these abilities to steal, to assassinate, or to benefit any who would pay us to do such things. I only taught them these things to survive, and sometimes to help others survive."

The rabbit's voice came out a rasp. "Who?"

"Friends, those threatened because they cared for us, or suffering due to their own misfortunes, or even their own passions for peace or justice. That has happened too …"

Usagi's ears went up. He turned his face slightly toward the other warrior again. Though there was still a hardness to his gaze it looked more guarded than sharp. The nezumi dared to meet it with his own gentle, sad one. "My sons and I are not Samurai. We are not Yojimbo. We are not even Ronin." The rat looked down to the floor before he went on. "Yoshi never called me 'guard,' 'retainer,' or even 'warrior' while he lived. I was not any of those things to him then neither did I call him 'Shogun.' He … was more a Samurai himself, my master. He was a secret keeper and guard of a group of beings to whom he was loyal to the death literally."

Usagi tilted his head, which now faced the rat fully, in curiosity. His eyes softened. The nezumi went on. "I thought none who saw my sons and I, after we changed, would 'wish' to see us. So, I began to teach my sons to be invisible. When I realized their voices, and the footsteps of their large bodies, would frighten others, I began to teach them to be silent. When I realized our survival would depend on those who would also threaten it, I taught them to be inciteful. I thought they would need these skills to survive. I did not realize the sense of justice I also taught them to have would drive them up above our home to help others even to the point of exposing themselves, but such they have done. And, they have tasted both sweet and bitter fruit from it."

Usagi's ears went back. His eyes squinted at the nezumi again. "And why should I believe any of this?"

Splinter nodded. "If it were only me, Samurai, I would care you thought so little of me, but not fight it. For my son's sake, I ask you to think over all you have come to know of us, all our actions you have seen and heard of, and judge us by them and not by the title of 'ninja.'"

What do you think?

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes