The Masked Mother
The first breath he took was not in a hospital, but under a thatched roof made of jungle leaves and mud. The cries that welcomed him were not cheers of joy, but sharp, pained breaths from a woman lying on a bed of straw.
She didn't scream.
She didn't weep.
She only exhaled, quietly, like a storm that had finally passed.
The child blinked.
He wasn't Hendrix anymore.
His name was now Alex Kai.
Born under the shadow of trees, deep in a forest untouched by maps, Alex came into a world that had no place waiting for him.
His mother held him tightly, sweat glistening on her skin. Her body was scarred—battle-worn. Her black mask covered her face from the nose down. She had not removed it even during labor.
She never would.
Years passed.
Alex grew, small but strong, agile despite the rough conditions of jungle life. The house he lived in was little more than a hut near a riverbank, surrounded by wild frogs, hissing snakes, and the ever-present scent of damp moss.
But every day was the same.
Every single day, before the sun touched the sky, his mother would rise and train.
She trained in silence. Her movements were sharp—like dancing with blades. Even while gathering firewood, cooking rice, or catching fish, her body was always in motion. A punch here. A somersault there. A dagger hurled precisely at a hanging fruit.
She never rested.
She was a shinobi, a ninja woman who had once belonged to a great sect in the mountains. But war had swallowed that part of her life.
She never spoke of it.
But Alex knew enough to feel the sadness that clung to her like dust.
She wore the same mask every day. He had never seen her face, not even once. Her voice was gentle but firm. Her eyes, the only visible part of her expression, were dark with burden.
"Mother," he asked one day, sitting beside her as she cleaned a rabbit with terrifying speed, "why do you always train?"
She paused, then resumed.
"For survival."
"But there's no war here," he said.
"War is always watching," she replied.
By the age of seven, Alex was no ordinary boy. His arms were thin but toned. His balance was precise. He could leap over logs, catch frogs with his bare hands, and even track small animals in the underbrush.
His mother trained him—not with words, but actions.
He learned to walk silently on wet leaves.
He learned to hold his breath under water for two full minutes.
He learned to kill snakes with a stone before they bit him.
But the jungle wasn't what confused Alex.
It was the silence.
The emptiness.
No one ever visited.
No voices ever echoed beyond their clearing.
Not a single passerby in seven years.
One morning, during sparring with wooden sticks, Alex suddenly blurted:
"Mother... are we the only people in the world?"
She froze.
For the first time, he noticed her hands tremble slightly before tightening around her weapon.
"No," she said after a long pause. "But this world... does not want us."
That answer burned a hole in Alex's mind.
He wanted to ask more. Why? Why do they hate us? Why do we hide like criminals?
But the words that truly sat heavy in his chest were ones he couldn't say out loud:
"Then… how was I born?"
If they were alone… if they had always been alone… where did he come from?
Was his mother always here?
Or had something happened?
Something dark?
Something she couldn't tell him?
He looked at her again. The scars on her arms. The stiff way she moved when she thought no one was watching. The way she never took off that mask.
She's hiding something.
But instead of pressing, he dropped the stick and sat down.
His mother didn't push him to continue training that day.
She just turned and walked into the trees, her black ponytail swinging behind her like a fading shadow.
That night, Alex dreamed of the goddess again.
He didn't see her face, but her voice echoed like music over thunder.
"Your path begins now, Alex Kai. From hunger, you were born. From shame, you were remade. This world is cruel, yes. But you will carve your place into it… even if it bleeds."
When he awoke, he felt something shift in his chest. A heat. A pressure.
His fingers tingled.
His breath felt different.
And somewhere deep within his soul, a skill awakened.
Skill Acquired: Sect Expansion – Lv.1
He had no idea what it meant.
But the jungle would soon find out.