His grandfather entered upon him as he sat oiling his short tantō sword with a cotton pad soaked in poison—an unusual habit for a ten-year-old boy, unless that boy was born into the Iga clan. And Sai was fortunate enough to be the grandson of the greatest ninja master of the clan. Or perhaps unfortunate enough to be shackled by such a fate.
"We move before sunset. Prepare yourself immediately," his grandfather's voice boomed, formal and threatening, more a warning than an announcement.
"Understood," Sai replied with a respectful bow, his voice flat and monotone.
He never cursed his birth into this clan. It was fate—whether he accepted or rejected it, his reality would remain unchanged. Here, hidden among the dense green forests and towering mountains, lay the secret village where the ancient Iga clan lived, masters of ninjutsu—the arts of infiltration, espionage, disguise, theft, and assassination. Most ninja clans in the Eastern Continent had been wiped off the face of the earth by the samurai clans, who despised them to the core. But his clan endured, thanks to the village's remote location and their strict preservation of true ninjutsu—even if it meant robbing their children of their childhood.
He dressed in a gray peasant outfit, tied a cloth bundle with his travel necessities, and headed toward the northern border of the village. Within minutes, his grandfather arrived, also dressed in simple peasant clothing with a basket strapped to his back for disguise. Medicine merchants—a role Sai had never played before. The two slipped silently through the green mountains without uttering a single word. This was normal. To reach the capital of the Eastern Empire, Nishoya, they had to traverse three and a half days of acting for onlookers, lurking for danger, and maintaining silence.
Sai pushed back his black hair, which had fallen over his tar-black eyes, to take in the sight of Nishoya's white-and-red castle—its towering height, its seemingly endless walls, and its dark secrets. He always found himself instinctively awed by the capital's endless bustle and brilliance, day and night. Yet despite his wonder, his expression remained as cold as if carved in stone.
They waited two hours past midnight, after the capital had quieted, before leaving the inn. Sai knew the drill—watch his grandfather's surroundings as he slipped through the servants' back door into the castle.
"You're coming with me this time."
Sai's jaw slackened slightly as he stared at his grandfather's back in surprise.
"Understood."
This was unexpected. He had always been just a decoy, an extra pair of eyes for his grandfather's missions—never allowed to delve into details, no matter how minor. And now, imperial details?
Sai followed his grandfather swiftly toward a small door carved into the castle wall. The old man produced a tiny key and opened it carefully. They tiptoed through the shadows until they crouched behind a massive rock in a garden facing sliding doors. A nearby door opened, and his grandfather moved cautiously inside, with Sai following like a shadow.
The room was empty. They passed through another, then another, until they reached one barely touched by the pale moonlight, illuminated only by a few candles.
All Sai could see upon entering was a pale, long-faced man in his twenties, dressed in a dark blue hitatare with long, wide sleeves and a long black head covering.
Sai was in the presence of the Emperor.
His grandfather immediately dropped to the ground, pressing his forehead against the floor. Sai followed suit, his shock delayed by a second.
"You've brought company this time, Juro." The Emperor's voice pierced Sai's ears like a straight arrow.
"He is your humble servant—my grandson. He must learn the ways of this place."
"Raise your head. We must finish this quickly."
"At your command."
Sai lifted his head like his grandfather, tense, his eyes scanning the room, his shoulders stiff as stone.
"Bring her in now," the Emperor commanded firmly.
From the door to their right emerged a maidservant in a white-and-black hakama, slowly sliding the door open. As it parted, delicate fingers appeared, followed by long, glossy black hair—short above the eyebrows in front, cherry-glossed lips, and eyes whose color Sai couldn't quite place. Silver-crystallized, perhaps.
She wore a layered junihitoe kimono, blooming in pink, green, and violet hues, its width far too grand for her small frame—fitting for the Eastern Empire's princess. A perfect mold, as one would imagine for the velvet class of society.
Except for her eyes.
They were something new.
Am I meeting the entire royal family today? Sai avoided looking at either of them.
The Emperor began, "I summoned you this time for one reason only." He gently took the little princess's wrist. "Five days ago, my daughter Genie woke up crying, clutching her wrist in pain. We were shocked to find strange symbols encircling it—symbols we couldn't decipher."
Genie? Right, the princess had a Western name—another reason the Emperor faced opposition.
"We consulted the Yamabushi family priests, but to no avail." Emperor Tenjin's eyes were heavy with sorrow, one hand holding her wrist, the other buried in her soft hair. She stood like a doll, quiet, smiling faintly in silence.
"As you can see, my daughter is only nine. I don't want her dragged into politics. We managed to decipher only one symbol—the mark of the Oda clan."
Now the truth became clear, as his grandfather's eyes indicated.
Sai knew the history of the Hiraghi imperial family and what had become of them. Once, they ruled the Eastern Continent with unmatched military and territorial might. Meanwhile, the Western Continent, lacking central rule, drowned in darkness, chaos, and warring states, poverty spreading like a plague—until the first king emerged, seizing the entire continent in just sixty days.
The Primords.
Their rise was legend, their strength supernatural—no, in perfect harmony with nature, as his grandfather had told him. That was why, they believed, their first king could subjugate men so easily, conquer an entire continent in two months, and spread terror across the other lands.
Sai couldn't fathom their power realistically.
Generations later, the Hiraghi imperial family could no longer ignore the samurai clans' demands to crush this looming threat. In truth, the Eastern Empire had no need for aggression—the Western kings had no desire to cross the sea for conquest. But the samurai's pride in remaining unchallenged was, in Sai's opinion, utterly foolish.
The Eastern fleets set sail—and were crushed by a single Western armada within a week of arrival. A devastating blow, both materially and morally. Since then, the nation burned for revenge, but the Hiraghi family declared no further attacks. The warrior clans fractured, rebelled, and the empire tore itself apart in civil wars that raged to this day. The Hiraghi clan barely held on.
And now, the Oda clan was the greatest threat—their samurai blood still boiling with the shame of that ancient defeat.
Also foolish, Sai thought.
"Allow me to examine the symbols, my lord." Emperor Tenjin nodded.
His grandfather approached the petite princess and took her hand lightly, studying the sealed symbols. His eyebrows rose after a few seconds.
Without preamble, he turned to Sai. "Come closer and tell me what you see."
The Emperor's frown fixed on him.
Is this a test? I'd better hurry, or Grandfather will rage later.
Her wrist was so thin—how could they carve anything on it? These symbols… Wait, aren't these our clan's ninjutsu symbols from the Heian era?
Sai read aloud:
"'No one knows his name, and all wonder if he even exists.'"
He lifted his head after the last word—and froze.
The princess's gaze was fixed on him, deep and probing. He quickly lowered his face.
"What does this mean?!"
His grandfather released her small hand carefully. "These symbols belong to our clan from the Heian era. Our ancestors used them to ensure the secrecy of ninjutsu—no one but us could decipher them. Though we stopped using them long ago, the Oda clan is declaring three things here, my lord."
"What are they?"
"First, they know the Iga clan serves the Emperor. Second, they know some of our secrets—only a few, as this proverb is incomplete. Third, they declare their ability to infiltrate the palace and enter any guarded room—even the princess's chambers—with ease. Perhaps they targeted her to instill terror in your hearts, my lord."
The Emperor's face darkened with fury, his teeth grinding like a dragon's.
"Juro, we will increase the castle guards—this time, I want men from your clan. I don't care how many, but bring at least ten. And they must be Red Tails. Leave now. I will set another date and send word by carrier pigeon."
"As you command, my lord."
His grandfather retreated, Sai following with bowed head, wishing the princess would stop staring at him so intently.
Maybe she's just curious, seeing a common boy for the first time.
That was the simplest, least embarrassing explanation he could settle on.
-
"The best ninja has no scent. No one knows his name, and all wonder if he even exists."
Sai muttered his clan's famous proverb as he practiced throwing iron shuriken at a tree ten feet away. After that meeting, he and his grandfather had returned to the village at inhuman speed. Now, all the clan's masters were in an emergency meeting, discussing the Oda clan's knowledge of their secrets before addressing the Emperor's request.
Sai hadn't realized the Emperor knew so much about their clan. Don't samurai hate ninja? Clearly, they'd used a professional ninja to infiltrate the princess's room and carve that mark into her wrist after drugging her.
He climbed a tree, trying to distract himself from the memory.
By evening, he began his sensory training—sitting in a quiet room while one of his teachers repeatedly dropped a needle on the floor. Focus, not just hearing—the key to sharpening his instincts. Then came hours of staring at a candle in the dark without blinking. He had to hone his skills quickly. Now, he could sense the killing intent of anyone who sought his life—even blindfolded.
His grandfather had allowed him to enter the Emperor's presence—proof that he acknowledged his strength. A flicker of happiness stirred in him. His older brother, Kinshin, had earned their grandfather's recognition at twelve. But Sai knew his world was unpredictable, so he locked that happiness in a tight corner of his heart. He had to endure brutal training—striking his joints to toughen them for climbing, mastering spears and swords from long katana to small daggers hidden in mouths. Studying psychology, human reactions, acting, disguise, poison-making—his days were an unending, raging river.
And finally, the awaited day arrived.
"Tomorrow, you join us in assassinating the Harada samurai family, vassals of the Oda clan."
Sai bowed to his grandfather in the meeting hall, all eyes on him.
One of the elders sneered, "Don't fail like your father! They say cowardice is hereditary."
That wasn't an insult to his grandfather—years ago, the old man had killed his only son to protect the clan's honor. The son who had failed to kill his final target. The cowardly ninja who had refused orders after a long career of bloodshed—a bedtime story for the clan's children.
Sai ignored it. Those events happened when he was an infant—he had no memories of his father to mourn. His mother, a trainer for the girls, cared for his grandfather's house but paid him no attention. Numbing emotions was the first poison he'd mastered.
Dawn broke over the village hills as Sai donned his black outfit, form-fitting and head-to-toe. He stared at the elite unit—the Red Tails—their dark silhouettes accented by red scarves around their necks.
I must join them after this mission, no matter the cost.
All the clan's masters had joined as a promotion, a recognition of their strength. Rumor said there was an even higher rank—ninja who could complete missions blindfolded, appearing like Shinigami reapers. But that was a secret he knew nothing about.
"Sai, are you nervous?" His brother Kinshin patted his shoulder.
Sai shook his head.
"Then answer with your words. You'll forget how to speak if you stay silent like this."
Kinshin was as bright-faced as ever—the only one in their family who tried to engage with him. Sai, by nature, always ignored him coldly.
Annoying.
"Just a reminder—in the Red Tails, we don't get many chances to shine. Don't waste this one."
He knew. He had to prove himself, even if it meant killing the entire Harada family alone.
-
A week of sprinting and leaping from tree to tree passed, broken only by brief meals of an anti-hunger paste—ground rice, tea leaves, wheat, and sometimes fish blood. Sai's tongue had gone numb to it two years ago.
His grandfather led the five-man unit—Sai included.
Is he using some magic herb to stay so strong at his age?
He admired the old man's endurance.
He believed every encounter, disaster, joy, mission—anything in his life—was fate. He couldn't refuse or resist it. He could only flow with the current, accept it silently, and become as unshakable as his grandfather.
The Harada estate was vast. They split into two teams to cover all rooms on the right and left. Sai joined his grandfather and brother. They entered each room on their hands and feet, silent as spiders creeping toward prey.
The right wing held seven rooms, each with hearts waiting for their blades. His brother took the first room, his grandfather the second, and Sai the third.
He entered slowly, scanning the darkness with adapted eyes.
Just a little girl.
Target confirmed.
He drew his short tantō and pressed it to her sleeping throat, his other hand hovering near her mouth to muffle any scream.
This is the moment of truth. Finish it fast, or no Red Tails.
This is my fate!
What… What am I thinking now?
This isn't the time to remember the princess's face!
His hands trembled. The blade reflected his hesitant eyes.
A ninja must lack three traits: doubt, fear, and overthinking.
Yet all three flooded Sai now.
Surely his grandfather and brother had finished the other rooms by now. And here he was, shaking over a little girl's throat.
She wasn't a samurai—no fear of a hidden katana.
She wasn't grown—no effort needed to slit her neck.
And she certainly wasn't the princess—no reason to spare her.
So why did her face, with those crystalline eyes, dominate his mind now?
Was this fate's doing too?
Heavy footsteps entered the room.
They've finished everything. I've ruined my chance—and I'm still ruining it!
"What's taking so long, Sai? Need help driving the blade?"
His grandfather's low tone made him shiver harder. His breath came in ragged gasps.
More footsteps. The whole team had gathered.
His grandfather stepped closer. "What's the matter? Can't finish the job?"
His heartbeat pounded in his ears.
Kill her now! Now or never!
He's watching me. Grandfather is watching me. Brother is watching me. The whole world is watching me!
Kill her! Kill her now, or you and your worthless fate are doomed!
He didn't kill her.
"Pathetic."
His grandfather snatched the tantō and hurled it at the wall.
The girl woke—and stopped breathing as the old man's blade flashed.
Sai collapsed to the floor, gasping like a dying fish. His brother hauled him over a shoulder, and they fled after burning the entire estate.
The mission was over.
So was his life.
-
A week later, as close to hell as a crippled ninja could get.
A crowd from the village gathered around him in the main house's courtyard—his house. He was emaciated enough for his bones to show.
He would be killed. The expected punishment for his weakness.
Some shouted for him to be burned. Others to be thrown from the cliffs. Most, if not all, laughed at his failure to kill such an easy target.
The crowd suddenly hushed as his grandfather returned with his public execution sword.
The old man approached with three men. One stripped Sai's shirt while the other two pinned his arms and legs to the ground, face-down.
From a few feet away, he saw his brother Kinshin's face.
His annoying heart began pounding again, his breath harsher with each passing second.
What's happening? Why am I pinned like this?
What is Grandfather holding?
A branding iron—flaming, with a circle and an eye inside.
This mark is…
Do they mean to make me a slave?
The searing iron neared the upper right side of his back.
A scorching heat radiated, threatening to consume him.
His scream echoed between the mountains as the brand seared into his flesh without warning.
He opened his eyes—and saw Kinshin smiling at him from afar.
For a few seconds, he wondered if the brand burned worse than that smile.
-
Three weeks passed since his exile.
Now, chained in the hold of a ship bound for the Western Continent, sold cheaply to foreign black-market traders.
The ship rocked violently, making him vomit repeatedly. No one bothered to clean it up.
The bastards enjoyed his misery.
Crossing the Mid-Ocean was hell itself. He doubted he could ever board a ship again without feeling dizzy.
Finally, they reached the port—filled with people of all colors: dark, light, dull. Their hair colored, their eyes colored, even their skin tones varied.
Sai wasn't used to such diversity. In his homeland, skin tones varied only slightly. Though his own had yellowed, at least he added to the palette.
"What do we have here?" A black-uniformed guard greeted their blond handler—him and five others chained in a straight line.
"Fresh Eastern stock." The handler slipped coins into the guard's pocket with a smile.
"Fine, move along."
The handler grinned and dragged them into a narrow alley where an iron cart awaited.
-
Days passed mechanically for Sai, his expression unchanging—cold stares that even earned him kicks from fellow slaves.
The brand on his bare back had blackened, but its fire still burned his skin.
His path of suffering was carved because of what?
A moment of pity for a little girl like the princess?
Meeting her had been an ill omen, etching her image into his mind forever. He wanted to burn that memory like his back had been burned.
-
The handler and his drunk comrades gathered on a desolate forest path. They stopped. Seemed they'd spend the night here.
Hours later, the handler opened the cart and pulled Sai out, unchaining him before tossing him near their campfire.
"This brat's from some mercenary family. Sold because he can't kill!" Laughter erupted.
"A merc who can't kill? A joke?"
Hearing the truth from Western scum ignited fury in him. Damn it. He couldn't endure another burn.
"I've got a great idea. Let's punish this chicken merc for failing his job!"
Cheers and laughter.
Sai was tied by his waist to a tree trunk, and they began pelting him with stones.
Soon, a faint smile touched his lips, fueling their rage. The stones grew fiercer.
Is this your punishment? It tickles—I can't stop laughing!
But the stones didn't tickle. They cut his flesh until he bled.
Suddenly, bushes rustled behind them.
A thin man turned, peering into the forest's darkness. He jumped up as a deep, powerful animal sound erupted.
"A bear! A bear's coming!"
The men scrambled onto their horses and fled with the cart, forgetting Sai tied to the tree.
A bear? Good. Fate's written that I'll sate its hunger.
But I'm too scrawny. Doubt I'm a full meal.
Fate? It forgot me the moment I left the empire. No—the moment I hesitated to kill that damned girl.
I shouldn't complain. Accept it.
He closed his eyes, waiting calmly, surrendering his body.
But his mind's image of a bear's gait didn't match the footsteps he heard now.
Human. Two, as far as he could tell.
His instincts still worked, then.
Small hands gripped his shoulders.
"Quick, lift his legs, Colin!"
"Wait, you idiot! I need to steady myself first!"
Sai's entire body was hoisted onto a thick branch. He slowly opened his eyes—and saw an upside-down face staring at him.
Who…?
His annoying heart began pounding again.
The princess's face and gaze had dominated his mind. He thought he'd be trapped by that memory forever.
But he was wrong.
Strange harmony with nature—in the blue of this boy's eyes.
Sai felt as if those pupils were carving a path straight into his heart.
Could he read his mind now?
For a few silent seconds, Sai forgot how to breathe.
Was this his new master?
His new fate?
"Oh, he opened his eyes! Are you okay? We'll get you down once Colin cuts these ropes."
Sai lifted his head and saw another boy carefully slicing the rope.
The boy smiled, making Sai's cheeks flush with embarrassment.
The rope snapped at last.
"Good, now let's lower him. Carry him and put him on my back."
The blond boy stood straight.
"Can you stop ordering me around like I'm your subordinate, Matthew?"
The boy with the knife carried Sai and placed him on Matthew's back. They moved carefully along the branch and climbed down.
"But I can't help it! I have to channel this happiness somewhere. We've got a third brother—finally!"
What? A brother?
Sai was set down gently, staring at them in shock.
"Channeled that energy earlier when I mimicked the bear's roar. Loud enough to pierce my eardrums."
What are they talking about? They mimicked a bear… to save me?
Why?
A brother?
The boy with the knife knelt, giving Sai water and dabbing his wounds.
Matthew added, "Those cowards were idiots! Bears don't wake to hunt in this cold season. Lucky they were fools."
Still, he stared deeply at Sai.
"Anyway, I'm Matthew, and this is Colin. We're brothers in the business of expanding our family. I've decided—you're our new member. Will you be our brother?"
Sai stared blankly.
"B-But I'm a slave… and Eastern."
"That doesn't matter at all. I've decided you're our brother. I don't care where you're from."
"Sorry, but once this moron decides something, it's impossible to change his mind."
This was the second moment of truth in Sai's life.
Two boys had tricked a group of black-market traders to save him.
Now they wanted him as their third brother, ignoring that he was Eastern and they Western.
"O-Okay…"
Matthew and Colin whooped as if they'd struck gold.
"Awesome! We're three now! Eat this blueberry—it's amazing, I promise. Oh, and what's your name?"
"Sai."
For the first time, he introduced himself without a fake name to strangers.
"Are you seriously offering sour berries to every new member? Sai, we've got bananas and pears in the food pack. Much better than this."
Colin handed him the fruits with a smile as Matthew rambled about blueberries being the staple food of all living things.
They were loud. Annoying.
And for the first time in his life, Sai didn't mind the noise.
He would try to speak more. Blend in more.
He would try to forget his brother's smile—no, that devil who had enjoyed his branding.
For some reason, he couldn't hate his grandfather.
And though the princess's gaze no longer haunted his mind, he couldn't forget her.
That was fine. He'd keep a few memories carved into his heart.
And he'd decided—Matthew was his destined master.
Now their third brother.
Strange…
The brand on his back no longer burned.