Okay, not exactly the best turnout for my return to writing fic, but then i suppose i should've expected as much, considering how 'obscure' the taimanin series is compared to the likes of DxD.
Again, big thanks to Nimthewriter for helping proof-read these chapters. You've been a real lifesaver man. Keep up the good work with Hound of the Dead!
For those interested: As stated, some of my old stories are on hiatus, some are just straight up dead & some are being reworked. If you care to adopt one, please just send me a PM to let me know so people don't start spamming me with 'some guy stole your fic' reviews.
Chapter 1: Ninja x Highschool
Hidden Villages. A term that was popularized in western culture thanks to an influx of so-called 'ninja-themed' media that led to a surge in weeabo cosplayers dressed in day-glow spandex running around like jackasses waving swords the size of park benches whilst covering their eyes with headbands.
With that in mind, it might surprise you to learn that Hidden Villages are, in fact, a thing in Japan, and yes, more often than not these are often remnants from the Feudal Period, where they were founded as dwellings by Ninja due to their inaccessibility and ease of defence.
While many of these have since adapted to the times, becoming popular tourist spots for those looking to experience a more 'traditional' side of Japanese culture, there remain a few stubborn holdouts who adhere to the old ways of solitude, even if they aren't necessarily inhabited by Ninja Clans.
That's not to say that the various ninja clans have died out mind you. Indeed, the villages of Iga & Koga continue to this day in some shape or form, though with the advancement of time they have mostly resigned themselves to becoming mere tourist attractions...on the surface that is.
After all, even during the feudal age, Ninja were renowned for their innovation and adaptability, developing and employing techniques and technologies that would not only grant them an edge over the better funded Samurai, but would even be adapted by special forces the world over in modern times.
With that in mind, was it really so strange to think that, in order to survive in the modern era, the various ninja clans who since ancient times were forced to make do with whatever tools they had on hand, would take advantage of the influx of Japanophiles seeking to gawk at their history as a means to raise funds?
Because at the end of the day, a ninja's greatest strength was their adaptability, the same adaptability that allowed them to survive, and indeed prosper in the modern age while the archaic, tradition-bound samurai died out save for a few dying embers.
However, just because they were able to adapt to the times, that didn't mean they were able to survive entirely on their own. And so it was that, sometime in the Feudal Era, several clans came together to form what would come to be known as 'Hidden Villages'.
Our story begins in one such village, situated at least 3 hours away from the nearest city by train, hidden deep within the Mountains and Ancient Forests of the Kanto region. A village that formed from a gathering of several clans & independent Shinobi from across Japan.
This was the Hidden Village of Gosha, the largest 'Ninja-only' Hidden Village in Japan with a total population of over 1000, it's location kept secret through a combination of Ninja Arts & modern technology provided by the Ministry of Interior's Department of Public Safety & Investigation, otherwise known as Section 3.
While a mostly self-sufficient society, possessing various traditional shops & enterprises one could expect from a small village, their main source of income came in the form of government contracts or bounties that they were obligated to complete in return for being shielded from the outside world.
As such, while the various Ninja clans tended to keep their own council, the undisputed lifeblood of the village was the prestigious Gosha Academy, a massive structure dedicated to training the next generation of ninja, founded and supervised directly by Section 3 on behalf of the Japanese Government.
In ancient times, the land that would one day become Japan was beset by creatures of Darkness.
Whether it be the Oni of Mt. Ooei or Nurarihyon's Hyakki Yako, the people were subject to their whims.
But even in those dark times, protectors existed, warriors of shadow who brought light to the darkness.
Through their sacrifice, a pact of non-interference was signed between the Light & Dark.
And so for a time the people knew peace, watched over from the shadows by their silent protectors.
But with the arrival of the western invaders, this ancient pact was broken.
Once again, the people found themselves subject to the whims of Fiends beyond mortal comprehension.
Worse, many would openly collude with them, forming criminal syndicates to amass wealth & power.
However, there are still those who walk the righteous path.
Allying with the Government, these just souls continue to resist the forces of chaos from the darkness.
Such is the sworn duty of those who would call themselves...
"Taimanin...huh." I mused, letting my eyes wander over the overly-flowery text for a few more seconds before snapping the book shut "And they say Samurai are overly romanticised." I scoffed, stuffing the book away before lying back on the grass "Pretty sure there's nothing 'noble' about murdering people for profit."
It was a beautiful day outside. The sun was shining, the birds were singing, so it was only natural that kids like me would be forced to spend most of the day locked in that most iconic of establishments, the purgatory for Innocent Souls (lol) better known as High School.
"...Hey..."
Now don't get me wrong, Gosha Academy wasn't your run of the mill Student Prison by any stretch of the imagination, but once you got over the novelty of it being a Ninja High-School (sadly without Furry Space Princesses) there really wasn't much else to say about it.
"Wake up."
I mean, sure, I could wax poetic about how cool it was to learn actual Ninjutsu (they called them Ninja Arts but fuck that) from actual Ninja, or how Sex-Ed was not only a compulsory class, but involved actual physical participation in order to prepare us to counter or employ seduction in the field.
"I said, Wake Up."
But at the end of the day, for all it's unique quirks and differences, it was still a state-run institution, and that included all the boring stuff that came with such trappings, including copious amounts of homework, periodic testing and of course, that staple of high-school life: bullying.
"I said Wake up! You Damn Rock-fish!"
Case in point, the rude bastard that was interrupting my scheduled nap-time for some selfish reason, even going so far as to deliver a kick to my side, though thankfully most of the damage was mitigated thanks to the book I'd strategically placed there. All according to Keikaku.
"Hm? Oh, hey there Gaiza." I greeted, acting like the asshole hadn't just mistaken my ribcage for a soccer ball, taking my sweet time rising from my spot on the grass to let him stew in his anger "Lunchtime over already?"
"Daydreaming as usual, eh, Kuroto?" Gaiza scoffed, the redhead crossing his arms as he glared down at me in disgust, which was pretty impressive considering one of his eyes was a cybernetic, but nonetheless a sentiment that was clearly shared by the group gathered behind him "How pathetic."
"What can I say, it's just so nice out." I quipped, ignoring the venomous glare he was sending my way with the ease of long practice, as this wasn't hardly the first time we'd had this conversation, nor was it likely to be the last "You should really try it, might help you unwind a little."
"Maybe I'd unwind if you'd spend less time daydreaming and actually training!" Gaiza snapped, several of his faceless cronies voicing their agreement from the peanut gallery "Honestly, even a failure like you should take some pride in his position as the head of the Fuuma Clan!"
'And once again it comes back to that...' I can't help but sigh in exasperation as I glance past the seething redhead to his followers, most of which I recognised from among our peers in school, though I also spied a few grim-faced senpai lurking around the edges 'Seriously, how the hell did I wind up in this situation?'
To put it as simply as possible, did you ever have one of those days where it seems just about everything is going wrong? And when I say 'wrong', I don't just mean the kind of day where you mismatch your socks or forget your keys or a bird shits on your newly washed car.
I'm talking about the days when you wake up hung-over on the wrong side of the bed, having gone to sleep far too late, only to see your alarm didn't go off so you're late to work.
I'm talking about the days where, after all of that, despite doing your best to beat the morning traffic, you break down in the middle of rush-hour, incurring several tickets from the police, including several for speeding.
I'm talking about the days where, after finally stumbling into your shitty cubicle, unshaven, out of breath and sweating bullets because it's a week till payday and you don't have enough to pay all your newly acquired fines, only to discover you weren't even supposed to be in today, but your asshole boss decides to make you do someone else's shift anyway, without overtime of course.
In short, did you ever have one of those days when life didn't so much give you lemons but rather shot you in the nuts, bulldozed your house, planted a grove of Lemon Trees in its place and then had you arrested for trespassing?
If so, you have my condolences. As someone who's been in that situation, the Citrus Orchard, not the overtime sketch obviously, let me assure you that it sucks. Big Time. However, if there's one thing I've learnt in life, it's that when life gives you lemons, there's usually multiple things you can do with them.
Most conformists out there might suggest you simply make lemonade, though some with a little more creativity might suggest any number of citrus-based confections, both sweet and savoury, whereas those who favour a more aggressive response might suggest tracking down whoever gave you said lemons and using them as fuel to burn their house down.
And then there's the ones who can see the funny side of it all, the people who take the lemons and use them to make orange juice, just to sit back and watch people try to figure out how the hell they managed to do so in the first place.
What does all of this have to do with me? Well, let's just say I find myself in the precarious situation of not really having the illusion of choice with what to do with my unexpected gift of citrus, mainly because the analogy doesn't really measure up to my situation.
I don't want to bore you with my backstory, as in all honesty the person I used to be is dead. I might retain their memories, for better or worse, but as they have little to no effect on my current existence I won't bore you with the details of my first diaper change or the existential crisis that is being single on prom-night.
All you really need to know is that I was nobody special, just another face in the crowd, another brick in the wall that teachers pretty much left alone. I had no special talents to speak of, grew up in an average family, graduated from an average school, worked an average job, and shared my average hobbies with countless other people, some of them doubtlessly more or less talented than I was.
Hell, if it weren't for the whole Lemon Orchard thing I'd say my life was uneventful, which really begs the question of how it was I found myself standing centre stage of what appeared to be a game-show, surrounded on all sides by lights, cameras, and a horde of shadowy outlines of people and yet…not.
No seriously, one minute the silhouettes beyond the lights resembled humans, but if I tilted by head just-so they seemed to shift into a kaleidoscope of Non-Euclidean shapes all at once, to the point even trying to comprehend what I was looking at gave me a migraine.
Put simply, I had been R.O.B'd. For reasons that would doubtless elude me until the heat-death of the universe, some Random Omnipotent Being(s) [Read: Really Obnoxious Bastard(s)] had singled out my meagre existence as their next form of entertainment.
Now, most people found in my situation would either rejoice at the chance to live out their self-insert fantasies or would shit themselves at being shoved into some sort of death-game, possibly both, as catching the attention of R.O.B(s) tended to end one of two ways:
Either they would give you and whatever poor sucker(s) they snatched up a 'unique power' [Read: Cheat Skill] that would make you proverbial gods among the witless sheeple of the world they send you to upend the status-quo, or they would drop you in the deep-end with weights tied to your feet just so they could jack-off to the ensuing schadenfreude.
There was also the third option that typically tended to be some variation of both, but either way, the end result was that someone was going to suffer for their amusement. If you died, they'd move onto the next sucker. If you survived, they got to enjoy your suffering a little longer. Repeat Ad Infinitum.
All that said, it went without saying I wasn't exactly thrilled to find myself in this situation. My life might not have been anything special, hell it likely didn't even qualify as background noise, but it was mine and I didn't appreciate it being interrupted for Gits and Shiggles, Eldritch abominations be damned.
The Devils Gameshow...
"Welcome back, Ladies and Gentlemen!" an eloquent(?) voice cried out that was simultaneously genderless, male, female and every technicolour rainbow that existed in between. Every tone, every accent, every verbal tic you could possibly and never dare to imagine, all rolled into one infuriating package that proceeded to dump right into my brain without sending my ears so much as a 'by your leave'.
The speaker, much like their voice and the surrounding hordes that were making my brain gibber 'NOPE!' in a vain attempt to keep from dribbling out of every pore, was likewise just as visually indescribable: Neither Male nor Female, humanoid or amorphous, to the point even trying to keep track of what I was looking at made me want to pull an Egyptian and rip my brain out through my nostrils.
The only thing about The Announcer I could clearly discern without giving myself an aneurysm was that they were wearing a really cheesy suit. No, seriously, just trying to look at the thing was giving me a craving for chilli, nachos, pizza, pasta...pretty much any food that went well with curdled milk by-products.
Don't judge me. Getting R.O.B'd makes you hangry, and while I couldn't really remember what I was doing before they snatched me up, I'm pretty sure it hadn't included lunch.
"Let's have a round of applause for our next Contestant [Sacrificial Lamb]!" The Announcer chirped, which didn't bode well at all considering it was gesturing to me as it spoke "Let's give a warm welcome to this Lost Soul [Lower Lifeform] that will receive the grace of our attention!"
'Yeah, like that isn't ominous.' I grumbled, having neither missed nor appreciated the underlying tone of mockery I could feel emanating from every word even as the crowd went every manner of fruit you dared to imagine, as if I were some novelty they'd come to watch "So should I bother asking where I am or should we just get to the point since you'll just dance around the bush regardless?"
"Well now! It would appear we've snagged a rather lively specimen [Wise-Ass], this time!" The Announcer proclaimed, earning a few mocking whistles, cat-calls and Elder Gods only knew what other noises from the audience that still haunt my nightmares.
"And he's just as eager to skip the foreplay and get the ball rolling as we are!" they continued, garnering yet another round of nightmare-inducing mocking applause "Sadly, as amusing as it would be to just toss you in the deep-end, The [Damn] Rules dictate we have to at least bring you up to speed!"
Now most people in my situation would have breathed a sigh of relief upon learning that whatever the hell these things were, there was still a set of rules they had to follow, were it not so blatantly clear that they resented every single one of those rules & thus had likely found every possible loophole around them.
"Fine by me." I shrugged, doing my level best not to shiver at the underlying hatred I could feel emanating from the unsaid curse, the crowd clearly sharing the announcer's disdain if their ensuing vocalisations were any indication. "So what's the sitch, R.O.B? You need me to save/destroy the world or something?"
"Well now! Don't we have an overinflated sense of our own importance?" The Announcer chuckled, it's tone literally dripping with condescension that was shared by the audience "No my dear contestant [Dancing Monkey], what we want is for you to Play A Game [Entertain Us]."
I won't lie to you, the moment those words entered my brain, it took everything I had not to turn on my heels and run like a cunt. In all honesty the only thing keeping me from doing just that was the instinctive feeling that turning around to look behind me would Not End Well, leaving me with little choice but to stand there as a drum-roll began to play in the background.
"And now the moment we've all been waiting for!" The Announcer proclaimed, the lights dimming as spotlights began to circle the stage "Let's have another round of applause as we begin: Wheel! Of! Reincarnation!"
"Wait, what?" I stammered, blinking in disbelief as what was clearly a blatant rip-off of the iconic Wheel of Fortune rose out of the floor, accompanied by the iconic music no less "Hold on! What do you mean by Reincarnation? I'm not dead!"
"Don't sweat the small stuff my boy [Meat Sack]!" The Announcer chirped, clapping me on the shoulder with what I can only pray was a hand and not some eldritch limb, a hope that died screaming as said appendage was removed, leaving a trail of slime in its wake "We'll sort the details out later [Never], for now, allow me to explain The [Damn] Rules!"
With that said, the eldritch horror gestured towards The Wheel, which just like its copyrighted inspiration had lit up to display the various prizes which could apparently be won. Sadly, it was hard for me to tell just what I'd be playing for, as instead of words or numbers, there were merely symbols, some of them familiar, while others either completely escaped my knowledge or hurt if stared at too long.
"As you can see, The Wheel is covered with the symbols for various realities [Playgrounds]." The Announcer instructed as if they were talking to a mentally handicapped child "You're probably wondering why we don't just put the names up, well let's just say the legal fees would cost [you] an arm and a leg."
"The only thing I'm wondering is why I'm here in the first place." I countered, not even bothering to contemplate the fact it was me who'd be paying the price for illegal product placement, only to be completely ignored as the host chattered on.
"The [Damn] Rules are simple! All you have to do is Push The Button." It gestured to the device in question as it rose slowly out of the ground in front of The Wheel. Contrary to belief, it wasn't particularly large or impressive, it was simply a little red button, the same kind of button you'd push to call for an elevator or launch a nuclear strike against your enemies "And wherever it stops, that's where we send you!"
"Sounds simple enough." I noted while pointedly doing my best to ignore both The Button and The Announcer. Seriously, I don't know how they managed it but no matter where I turned my head the damned switch was always visible just out the corner of my eyes unless I was looking directly at it, like the world's most tantalizing eye-floater.
"Quick Question: What if I don't want to push the button?" I demanded, pointedly leaving out the capital letters just to make a point "What if I want to go home?"
"All the more reason to Push The Button!" The Announcer proclaimed, gesturing to The Wheel, where a particular segment, infinitesimally smaller than the others, lit up to reveal the words 'Jackpot' "If you [Cheat] land on this space, you get any one wish you desire. If it just so happens that your wish is to go home, well there's no accounting for taste! And before you ask, the only way back is to Hit The Jackpot!"
"And what guarantee do I have that this isn't rigged to keep me from hitting the jackpot?" I demanded, shivering as the feeling of the audience's stares on my soul intensified "And don't give me some bullshit excuse like 'where's the fun in that?' you probably get off on seeing people's faces when they fall just short or overshoot the goal."
"Well that is one of my fetishes to be fair." The Announcer shamelessly confessed, earning a bevy of approving whistles and cat-calls from the audience "But sadly The [Damned] Rules are very clear about what we're not allowed to do, and cheating in any form is one of them!"
"And I'm guessing there's rules that prevent me from simply walking away." I deduced with a sigh, not even needing the eldritch monstrosity's unnerving smile to confirm it "So just press the button and poof, new world?"
"Well, yes and no." The Announcer begrudgingly confessed "See, sending you to the new world is only part of the package, you'll also get a set of random conditions placed upon you to make it more interesting [Amusing] for us to watch!"
"I can imagine." I mused, shuddering at the thought of some of the things I could wind up with. Not all Isekai stories end in a Harem Situation after all. Hell, given the current trends I'd be lucky if I even kept my human form "Right, might as well get this over with."
"That's the spirit [About Damn Time]!" The Announcer cheered, the great wheel before me spinning, creating a kaleidoscope of colours that made it impossible to make out the symbols on the surface "Alright Champ [Sucker]! Feel free to Press The Button whenever you're ready!"
I swear I could feel the gaze of literally everyone in the room tracking the movement of my fingertip as I brought it up to the button. A part of me wanted to see how many times I could get away with pulling it away from the button before they pulled a Monty Python and told me to get on with it, but even as the thought entered my head I felt an indescribable chill race up and down my spine, a clear-cut indication that attempting to blue-ball eldritch horrors was about the stupidest thing a mere mortal could do.
'Right, don't tickle Cthulhu…' I reminded myself, shivering once again as the mere thought of the Great Old One earned a rather menacing chuckle from somewhere in the audience. Taking a breath to steady myself, I bit the bullet and jabbed the button to get the ball rolling, or wheel spinning as it were.
"Finely done young man [Even a Stone can shine from time to time]!" The Announcer cheered, their words laced with mockery as they clapped an appendage on my shoulder that felt like sandpaper even through my clothes "Now then, let us proceed with the show, and bear witness to how your luck turns out!"
"Yay." I deadpan, not even bothering to try and track the position of the Jackpot, a wave of vertigo washing over me as I shut my eyes to block off the kaleidoscope of symbols blurring before me.
"Well now! Isn't this interesting?" The Announcer mused, forcing me to snap my eyes open to find the wheel had come to a complete stop in the brief seconds my eyes were closed "Congratulations Contestant [Sucker]! You might not have hit the jackpot, but as a consolation you get to transfer to a far more interesting word!" They proclaimed whilst delivering a slap to my back that dropped me to my knees "Try not to die too quickly [bore us], okay?"
Back to reality...
And so it was that I found myself reincarnated as Fuuma Kuroto, the only son and heir apparent to Fuuma Danjo, the current Patriarch of the infamous Fuuma Clan, one of the oldest & arguably most notorious Clans to compose Gosha Village, due in part to our connection to the legendary shinobi, Fuuma Kotaro.
Now a couple of those names probably raised a metric fuck-ton of Red flags for the more well-informed members of my audience, and I'll admit, when I learned precisely where I was R.O.B'd, I was torn between shock, terror and an awkward feeling my infant body couldn't quite process that may have been arousal.
For yes, as it turned out, of all the worlds I could've been reincarnated into, I seem to have lucked out and been sent to one at least partially inspired by a series I was relatively familiar with, namely the world of Lilith-Soft's Expanded Taimanin Asagi franchise.
Now I'm sure the uninitiated out there are probably cursing me out, no doubt assuming I'd welcome this revelation with open arms. Unfortunately, even setting aside the existential dread that seemed to come parcelled with being R.O.B'd, I'm afraid there was very little of my situation to be joyous about.
For one thing, the more eagle-eyed among you probably noticed how I said I was 'relatively' familiar with the franchise. Sadly, my familiarity could best be compared to how a newly Risen Tarnished was familiar with the touch of a Maiden.
For you see, while I was at certainly aware of what was Lilith-Soft's premiere Franchise, I had never played any of the games, due to them being unavailable for purchase (legally) outside of Japan, meaning my only exposure to the franchise, filthy gaijin that I am, was via the admittedly well animated Hentai OVAs.
Don't look at me like that, I defy any of my fellow Gaijin to claim that they didn't stumble across clips of Igawa Asagi's glorious tatas bouncing across a screen at some point of their journey through pubescence once they acquired access to internet unfettered by the limitations of safe-search and Parental Oversight.
Sadly, while the OVAs certainly served their purpose of tickling my pickle, they were hardly the best reference material to prepare me for being dropped into the deep-end by some Asshole Elder Gods with nothing better to do than watch me sink or swim.
Fortunately, one of the benefits that came with being the heir apparent to a Shinobi Clan was a pretty comprehensive education, which was only further compounded upon considering the Fuuma Clan, at the time, were basically running the show in Gosha Village.
To put things into perspective, much like how the Senju Clan managed to basically ensure they retained complete control over Konoha since it's founding, the Fuuma Clan's influence was so great that the patriarch, traditionally named Kotaro, had served as the leader of all Taimanin in Japan since the inception of Gosha Village.
However, as the saying goes, Power Corrupts, and as was often the case the Fuuma Elders had grown increasingly arrogant, prioritizing the clan's well-being over the village as a whole, to the point they began to treat their own kinsman as 'disposable tools', often selling them into slavery...much like my own mother.
Yeah, you heard right, turns out my old man was a real piece of work, often taking multiple lovers at a time only to sell them off whenever he either grew bored with them or they managed to produce a child, my mother being one of many such victims of his cruelty.
So yeah, no love lost for dear old dad, and as cruel as it sounded I'm kind of glad I never got to know my new mother, as I doubted my retaining my old memories would've been conducive towards fostering the same bond I had with my old one.
Getting back on track, unfortunately for the Fuuma, while the Elders' actions weren't anything new during the feudal era, back when people were deemed less valuable than livestock, the times had changed and it didn't take long before the Japanese Government decided they'd had enough with the Clan's bullshit.
I wish I'd had a camera on me to capture the look on Danjo's face during the meeting of the clans, where the representative from Section-3 stripped the bastard of his authority and appointed Igawa Syuzen, Asagi's father and the head of our long-standing Rivals, the Igawa Clan, as the new head of Gosha Village.
Sadly, not only did dear old dad lack my sense of humour, he was also a sore loser who refused to accept when he was beaten. And so, much like Uchiha Fugaku, it didn't' take long for the old bastard to rally his loyal retainers to plan a coup to retake control of the village.
And he probably would have succeeded too, or at the very least done a lot more damage than he actually managed to pull off, if it weren't for his meddling son pulling an Itachi behind his back, warning the Igawa about the impending coup well in advance.
See, unlike the Uchiha, not all of the Fuuma were down with the idea of a coup. While all of them were loyal to Danjo to the point of idolizing the man for reasons that eluded me to this day, some were perfectly fine with accepting Syuzen as the new Village Head given his reputation as a fair, honourable man.
That, and the ever-so important fact that his appointment was officially endorsed by Section 3, meaning that in openly defying it Danjo had essentially declared war on the Japanese Government, something that I and a few like-minded clansmen rightfully understood was just suicide with extra steps.
After all, even if you factored in our various branch families, the total Fuuma Forces numbered only in the hundreds, and while our bullshit Ninja Arts could certainly even the playing field, there wasn't much we could do once Section 3 sent in an Air Strike to carpet-bomb the village into submission.
Now it should probably go without saying, but as Danjo's heir I would have been considered a priority target for the Igawa when they came to 'purge' the remaining Fuuma. After all, they could hardly allow the seeds of resentment to blossom amongst the survivors, right? It was just standard procedure during clan wars.
However, as you can plainly see, I and several of my clansmen are not only very much alive, but attending Gosha Academy. Many of you are doubtless curious as to how this came to be, and as much as I'd love to claim I rallied my clansmen to fend off the avenging Igawa forces, the truth was decidedly less impressive.
While I was Danjo's Heir, this was solely by virtue of being the only one of his sons to survive past infancy, and even then it was by the skin of my teeth. As it stood, by the time of the revolt I was a twelve-year old weakling who even prior to the rebellion had been scorned by the clan for my seeming lack of talent.
Make no mistake, while not all the clan agreed with the coup, they still shared Danjo's ideals for the most part, chief among them being that Power meant everything. Those who had it were revered and applauded, while those who lacked it were scorned and often quietly removed to make way for those more deserving.
Needless to say, my position as Clan Heir hadn't spared me from countless assassination attempts by my own kinsmen. Hell, forget rallying them to my banner, I'd have been lucky if the bastards didn't throw me on the Igawa's swords in order to buy a few precious seconds for them to save their own skins.
Left with no chance of retreat & no ability to fight back, what else was there for me to do than throw myself at the mercy of the Igawa? And as luck would have it, I just so happened to have an in with Syuzen, my position as Clan Heir having allowed me to get to know his daughters as some of my 'Childhood friends'.
And so, when the time for the rebellion came, Danjo's loyalists got their asses handed to them on a silver platter, leaving Dear-Old-Dad no choice but to abandon the rest of the clan to die to the avenging Igawa forces while he slunk off into the shadows with his surviving followers to lick their wounds.
Unfortunately, it seemed that even in defeat, the old bastard was determined to make my life miserable, for while his rebellion had failed, he at least succeeded in murdering Syuzen, which as you can probably imagine didn't exactly endear me to the rest of the Igawa.
Fortunately, thanks to the timely intervention of the representative of Section 3, the Igawa Elders were convinced to spare the remaining Fuuma provided I swear eternal loyalty to them, essentially reducing the once illustrious Fuuma Clan to mere vassals of their former rivals.
Needless to say, the surviving Fuuma hadn't reacted kindly to the revelation. Many of them, even those who hadn't supported Danjo, having desired to go out in a blaze of glory out of some misplaced sense of pride, as evidenced by Gaiza and his boyfriends harassing me despite my status as Clan Head.
Now in Gaiza's defence, it's not like I couldn't understand where his hatred was coming from. As the head of the Nisha Branch Family, his father had been a devout follower of Danjo so the two of us had practically been raised together in the Fuuma Compound.
Back then, Gaiza could best be described as a cry-baby, always tagging after me like a lost duckling, the two of us bonding over our status as 'disappointments'. Then his old man died during Danjo's rebellion, sacrificing himself to allow my old man to slither off like the treacherous snake he was.
Now while I personally was more than happy to be out from under Danjo's scrutiny, Gaiza had actually admired his father and had seemingly intended to follow in his old man's example by sacrificing himself to protect me, only for me to steal that dream from him by bowing my head to the Igawa.
Left with no means to avenge his father and reduced to little more than a Vassal of a Vassal, Gaiza, like a majority of the surviving Fuuma within Gosha Village, turned their resentment towards me, the cowardly weakling who, in their eyes, sold out his clan in order to save his own skin.
"Pride huh?" I repeated as I let my single eye glance over them, a coy smile forming as several of them looked away, unable to meet my gaze "Kinda hard for me to take pride in a clan of beaten dogs that would just as soon slit my throat in my sleep."
"You piece of shit-!" one of Gaiza's cronies snarled, lunging forward to grab me by the front of my hoodie, only to blink as Gaiza grabbed his arm from behind to keep him from punching me "Gaiza-sama? Why-?!"
"Stand. Down." Gaiza snarled, his normal eye flashing crimson as he glared his subordinate into submission only to narrow as he turned to sneer in response to my complete lack of fucks "Let him bark all he wants," he spat in disgust, before turning on his heel to stalk away "better to be a beaten dog than Igawa's Lapdog."
"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Gaiza." I countered with a yawn, looking on impassively as the redhead turned on his heel and stalked off, his cronies following suit, several of the Senpai among them glancing back at me, torn between disgust and intrigue "You can come out now, Tako-chan."
"Mou-! Stop calling me that!" a green-haired girl exclaimed as she stepped into view from behind a nearby tree, her hands on her hips as she pouted at me, the motion causing her breasts to bounce perkily within the confines of her school blouse "I'm a snake, not an octopus!"
"I defy you to find a single genus of snake that has tentacles." I teased, only to raise a hand in surrender as the pouting girl's legs seemed t bulgy and twist before proceeding to transform into said appendages "I'm just kidding, Hebiko." I assured her with a comforting smile "Did you need me for something?"
Much like Gaiza, Aishu Hebiko hailed from a Fuuma Branch Family, one whose Ninja Art allowed them to transform into animals, with the most iconic being Hebiko's Great Grandmother, who was famous for her ability to transform into a giant serpent.
However, whether due to a birth defect or lack of talent, Hebiko lacked the ability to transform her body with the exception of her legs. To make matters worse, despite being named for her legendary Ancestor, she was only able to change her legs into Octopus Tentacles.
Needless to say, this had made her something of a laughingstock amongst the rest of the Fuuma even prior to Danjo's rebellion, so it was only natural that she would become one of my closest companions as a child. After all, us defects have to stick together, right?
However, unlike Gaiza, who took things too seriously, or myself, who simply didn't give a shit, Hebiko never allowed other people to dampen her spirits, going so far as to turn her supposed 'defect' into a strength, allowing her to rise to become a member of the [Gosha Student Council] despite her youth & status.
Now it probably goes without saying that an unscrupulous bastard might have taken advantage of her newfound status & good nature and I'm not ashamed at all to admit I did just that more than a few times over the years, though to be fair Hebiko was more than willing to oblige, given the stigma our clan faced.
After all, while it suffered from many of the failures of your standard Japanese Student Prison, Gosha Academy was still a school for Shinobi, so we wouldn't really be punished for using her connections to either steal the test answers or prepare for 'surprise events' unless we were caught.
"Oh yeah," Hebiko exclaimed, taking a breath to settle herself as her tentacles slowly shifted back into ordinary legs, complete with an undamaged set of stockings as a deliberate 'Fuck You' to physics "Tokiko-sensei asked me to come get you Kuro-chan. The Principal wants to see you."
"Does he now?" I mused, my good humour vanishing somewhat, as I could already imagine several reasons why the 'Official' Head of Gosha village wanted to see me, none of them particularly pleasant "Well then, by all means, let's not keep him waiting."
And I'll just leave off there for now.
So yeah, a brief summary of how Kuroto came to be. And yes, that was summary of my experience with the Taimanin franchise prior to writing this fic. Before I began researching this story, I'd only ever seen the ovas and never played the games. Imagine the neuron activation i experienced when I discovered the Taimanin wiki and learned this series has (almost?)more parallel universes than the goddamn fate franchise?
Again, I won't be updating this as regularly because of work, but at the very least I intend to get as far as I can with this one before life drags me away.
Next time, Kuroto meets the principal of Gosha Academy, and a few more familiar faces along the way. Just what kind of trouble has he gotten himself into...or is about to?