The sun burned my eyes. Not the soft light of the cave or the flicker of a single flame, but full, raw, unforgiving sunlight. I blinked against it, raising a hand to shield my face.
The Ryoma estate was gone. Completely gone. Where the walls and gates once stood, only forest stretched out, wild and untamed. Trees taller than the tallest towers I remembered, their leaves rustling like whispers. A small village squatted quietly at the edge, smoke rising lazily from a few chimneys.
I swallowed. Nothing here felt familiar. The koi pond, the garden paths, the wooden floors that creaked under my weight—they were all gone. Even the river that had run through the courtyard was replaced by a winding creek disappearing into the forest.
I stepped forward, my boots sinking into moss, feeling the damp earth beneath me. My Ki hummed beneath my skin, alert, sharp.
I could sense them before I saw them. Not human voices, not footsteps. Just Ki—multiple presences. Quiet, deliberate, waiting.
I stopped, narrowed my eyes, and let my senses extend.
"Come out," I said, voice low, firm.
The forest answered. Silence at first, then—like a sudden ripple—kunai whistled toward me from all directions.
I didn't flinch. My body moved before thought. Step to the left. Step back. Step right. Each blade passed close enough to feel the wind it cut through, but none touched me.
A single kunai spun in the air, and I caught it, my hand closing around the cold metal instinctively. My arm flexed. The blade left my hand again—not with Ki, just raw force—and slammed into a tree. The trunk shattered, sending bark flying. A second later, one of the attackers screamed.
Shadows peeled back from the trees like black smoke, forming into human shapes. The Shinobi. Fast, precise, deadly. Their Ki radiated like cold steel.
I didn't bother hiding. I didn't need to.
They struck in unison, moving faster than I could track. I dodged, parried, and let a single sword slice through the air in response—just enough to send one of them staggering into the underbrush. My mind was calm, flowing. Every movement, every calculation, a rhythm.
I could have destroyed them all in a heartbeat. Every step, every swing, every counter—I felt it in my bones. The way Ki moved, how the forest bent around it, how space itself became my playground.
But I didn't.
I allowed the second Shinobi to land a hit—just a glancing blow, enough to taste blood. I allowed another strike to graze my shoulder. A few minutes, maybe longer, passed in a blur of controlled chaos.
Then, before they could finish me, a sharp command stopped them.
"Enough."
The world froze. Even the wind seemed to pause.
The Shinobi stepped back. A man moved forward. Taller than all the others, broad-shouldered, with eyes that glimmered behind a mask. His Ki radiated calm authority, tempered by sharp intelligence. He didn't speak at first—he just observed.
"Boy," he said finally. "Where do you come from?"
I didn't answer immediately. I didn't even flinch. My body was still tense, ready to respond, but my mind was calm.
"Where are you going?" he asked again.
I exhaled slowly. "Walking."
He tilted his head slightly. Not a gesture of confusion, but of curiosity. "You're different from any I've felt before. Why are you here, in this forest?"
I shrugged. "I got lost."
There was a pause. Then a sound like a quiet laugh—he didn't remove the mask, but his eyes crinkled at the edges. A smile. A rare, human smile.
"Raizen," he said, finally, turning to his men. "Take him to the village."
The Shinobi surrounding me hesitated for a moment, but obeyed.
I didn't resist. Not because I wanted to be caught, but because it was a calculated choice. There was more to this man, more to these Shinobi than mere assassination. I could feel it in the way his Ki moved, the way it drew theirs in. There was no fear here. Only observation. And a challenge.
A bag was placed over my head. Black cloth, rough against my skin, blocking all light.
I could still feel the forest, still sense the movement of Ki around me. Trees passed too close, the creek murmured beneath us. Every step, every subtle shift, registered. I didn't need sight.
"Don't think you've escaped anything," Raizen said, voice muffled through the cloth. "We know you are capable. That's why you interest us."
I didn't respond. Silence suited me better anyway.
I could sense the others adjusting, watching. Their Ki prickling the air like sparks. They were skilled. No one made a move. They trusted Raizen's judgment—and from what I could tell, that was a smart choice.
The forest finally began to thin. The small village came into faint view under the bag. Smoke curled from chimneys. People moved about, unaware of the world beyond their homes, unaware that someone like me was being brought to them.
I thought about the Ryoma estate. About the ashes. About the boy I used to be. About the man I had become in the darkness below.
The village was small. Stone paths crisscrossed between wooden homes. Children ran laughing in the distance, unaware of the shadows that prowled the forest edge.
Raizen stopped and gestured to his men. I was lowered to my knees. My hands rested lightly on my knees, still ready to act if needed, still tense with energy and awareness.
"Do not remove the bag," he instructed softly. "Not until you're ready. And not until we have questions answered."
I didn't speak. I didn't need to. My mind worked faster than words could manage. I calculated distances, counted the steps of his men. I assessed the Ki of every person near me—civilians included. Even blind, I could "see" more than anyone around me.
Raizen tilted his head again, looking directly at me. "You are not like others. You hide nothing, yet reveal nothing. That is rare."
I let the words hang in the air. My silence was deliberate. Calculated. I had survived a dragon's essence, trained in darkness, and mastered my own Ki. I didn't need to explain myself to anyone yet—not even him.
He let out another quiet laugh. One could almost call it a chuckle if one ignored the power behind it. Even through the bag, I felt it pierce the air.
"Good. You'll come with me," he said. "But not as a prisoner. Not yet. Perhaps as something else."
I said nothing. I didn't need to.
The Shinobi moved forward, lifting me easily, and the village paths stretched ahead. Children ran past, a dog barked in the distance, and the forest behind us whispered.
I could still feel the shadows lurking at the edge—the forest hadn't forgotten me. Neither had I forgotten it.
And as we walked, bag over my head, I let myself think: I was no longer a boy who fell from a cliff. I was someone else entirely. Someone stronger. Someone who could bend space, who had trained in darkness, and whose Ki would not be matched lightly.
Raizen's presence was calm but commanding. His Ki sharp but not oppressive. I could feel the threads connecting us, subtle, like the brush of wind.
I didn't trust him. Not yet.
But I was curious.
And for the first time in a long time, curiosity felt like a weapon.