Kenji (pt.2)

Kenji’s throat was parched, his eyes were burning, and his limbs felt heavy and unresponsive. As he was stumbling through the bamboo forest, his body was weighed down by exhaustion and grief. And now, as he stood before three ninjas, all covered in blood and ashes smears he tried to muster a single question “Who are you?”, but his conscience faded into dark.
The ninjas exchanged a knowing glance, their expressions unreadable beneath their masks. One of the ninjas broke the silence again, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "The insignia," he said, gesturing towards the headband Kenji had wrapped tightly in his fist. "It belonged to Kojiro."
With a slight nod, the largest of the ninjas knelt down beside
Kenji and scooped him up in his arms. Then, without a word, they turned and
disappeared into the depths of the forest, leaving Kenji to his slumber.
The Iga ninja clan was a mystery, shrouded in secrecy, even to the people of Japan. They were said to be the most powerful and skilled ninjas in the land, wielding their mastery of stealth and combat to manipulate the course of history from the shadows. No one knew their whereabouts, and only possible communication with them was black pigeons, which delivered messages to Hidden Village of Iga.
They did not answer to any authority, operating independently,
driven by their own agenda. They were mercenaries, willing to take on any
mission, no matter how dangerous or challenging, for the right price.
Their reputation for success was unmatched. They had never
failed to succeed the mission, no matter how difficult or impossible it might
seem.
However, they were also selective about the missions they
accepted. They would only take on missions that aligned with their own agenda,
missions that they believed would help them achieve their goals.
If they did not believe that a mission was worth their time or
effort, they would refuse it, no matter how much money was offered.
After what seemed like an eternity, the ninjas reached the entrance of the cave. The air was damp and cool, and the sound of rushing water echoed through the darkness. Kenji could feel a sense of anticipation rising within him, a flicker of hope amidst the despair that had consumed him.
The ninjas lowered Kenji to the ground and stood guard as he
rested, their figures looming in the shadows. Kenji closed his eyes, trying to
block out the images of his village, the sight of his parents' lifeless bodies.
A moment later, the sound of footsteps echoed through the cave,
and a figure emerged from the darkness. It was a tall, imposing figure clad in
black robes, his face obscured by the shadows. Kenji could sense the power
radiating from the man, the aura of authority.
The ninjas bowed respectfully, their voices hushed. The figure
acknowledged their greeting with a curt nod, his eyes fixed on Kenji.
“What brings you here?” he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.
“We have brought a young boy,” one of the ninjas replied, “who
has been orphaned by the samurai’s massacre.”
The guardian’s eyes showed no surprise as he had heard tales of
the massacre, the savagery with which the samurai had slaughtered the
villagers. But he had not expected a child to survive.
“Tell me more,” he commanded, his voice filled with curiosity.
The ninjas recounted the events that had led them to Kenji, the
destruction of his village, the murder of his parents. They described the
brutality of the samurai, the way they had decapitated the villagers, leaving
their bodies scattered like discarded dolls.
The guardian listened in silence, his face impassive. But Kenji
could sense the anger simmering within him.
“This boy,” one ninja said, his eyes fixed on Kenji, “is the son
of Kojiro”

to be continued...