The broom whispered across the wooden floor like an old friend.
I liked mornings like this. The dojo was empty, except for the smell of cold ash, dried blood, and yesterday's silence. Outside, mist slithered along the stone garden, wrapping around the bamboo fences like ghostly serpents. In here, though, it was just me. Me and the ghosts I made up to feel less alone.
They called me Aoto the Errand Boy.
Not with malice. Not directly though. That would require effort.
It was always with a laugh, or a careless mutter, or worse silence. Like I wasn't even worth naming out loud.
I swept between the sparring lines, imagining the clash of steel where the blood stains hadn't yet faded. Would I be the kind of ninja who moves like the wind? Or maybe the poison sort, the kind who smiles before they kill you? Hehe. I would love that.
A kunai would be nice. Or a chain-sickle or Something with flair. The Great Ninja, Aoto Hoto. Haha
But in truth, I flinched at the sight of open wounds. My hands trembled when knives were drawn too quickly. Once, I fainted during a dissection lesson. They never let me forget that. Not even the elders.
I paused, leaning on the broom handle, staring at the training dummies. Their wooden faces grinned mockingly, stuffed with straw, sliced again and again by those more worthy.
What would it feel like… to go on a mission?
To walk through village gates with a mask tied tight, knowing people feared your shadow.
To be brave. Even just once.
"Boy!" a gravelled voice snapped behind me.
I jolted, nearly dropping the broom. Elder Master Genzo stood at the threshold, his robes dark as soot, the hilt of his blade peeking over his shoulder like a hawk's beak.
"The Jonin return tonight. Go light the Oiwai Pavilion. Make sure every lantern shines."
He didn't wait for a response.
I bowed low, well too low maybe and scurried past him with my broom tucked under my arm like a forgotten spear.
.
.
The Oiwai Pavilion sat at the temple's edge, wrapped in paper lanterns that hadn't seen flame in months. I lit each one with flint and oil, carefully coaxing the wick to life, pretending each flicker was some sacred spell.
Suddenly a foot struck my back painfully making me stumble forward at the thrust, I barely caught myself on a stone basin.
"Well, well," came a voice as greasy as eel skin. "The hero prepares the celebration."
I turned slowly. Kenji. Of course. Behind him were two other boys, Rei and Toma, dressed in apprentice black, a kunai gleaming on their belts while mine held only a pouch of lamp oil and bruises that hadn't faded.
"Careful," I said quietly. "The lanterns are—"
"—For real warriors," Kenji cut in, stepping closer. "Not for rats sweeping floors."
The teacher supervising the grounds, Master Sojin, stood barely ten paces away, eyes on the clouds. Pretending as if the scene didn't exist. Pretending as if I didn't exist.
I bowed my head as my fists curled at my sides and Rei plucked the flint from my hand.
"Maybe the Shogun will make Aoto the Royal Sweeper," he sneered. "For exemplary dust removal!"
They laughed. But I didn't.
Not because it wasn't funny, sometimes I even laughed at myself.
But because a tiny part of me agreed with them.
.
.
By dusk, the clan's courtyard pulsed with celebration. Jonins stood in ceremonial armor, their faces hidden behind their demon-masked helmets. The seven scrolls had been delivered, safely. Their mission was a triumph. Gold was coming and Honor too. I am sure at this point every other ninja clan was jealous of the Hoto Clan's triumphs over the last 2 years. We were eating good.
When everyone settled into the hall, I served rice wine on a trembling tray, ducking between kimonos, dancing kinoichi's, drunk genin's and pouring into iron cups held by hands that had slit a hundred throats. The elders gave speeches and the children clapped. Even the stars seemed to bow at the feat the Jonin's of the clan had achieved today.
I passed Master Genzo, who didn't look at me, and then circled toward the celebration platform where Kenji and his gang were seated on the floor, somehow closer to the Jonin than I'd ever be.
"Look at him," Kenji whispered. "Even his shadow crawls."
I pretended not to hear. Instead I did what I always did. I dreamed of myself.
"Bring more wine!" I heard someone shout.
"Yes, Lord Aoto," came the trembling reply as Kenji's trembling figure served me wine.
I sat atop the dais, mask glinting under moonlight, flanked by ninja with dragon tattoos and eyes like fire. My blade rested on my lap, still dripping with myth. The Shogun himself raised a toast in my honor.
"To the one who defeated the Nine Serpent Fiends alone!"
Cheers.
Bowing.
Fear and awe mingled in every breath as I laughed, raising my wine cup high in the air. "Ha-Ha-Ha!"
I was pulled out of my awesome thoughts by a sharp shoulder to my back. The tray in my hands wobbled once ,twice and then clattered to the ground, rice wine soaking into the packed dirt like blood into old wounds.
I fumbled to pick up the tray hurriedly but heavy laughter followed my actions.
Not the kind that warms the room.
The kind that tells you the joke is you.
I froze. The edges of my daydream curled inward like burning paper as Rei stepped into view, his smile sly, almost kind. That kind of kindness that makes you flinch before it ever reaches you.
"Master Genzo wants you," he said, voice light as a leaf. "At the hot spring fields. Said you're late for your punishment."
Punishment?
I hesitated. My mouth parted to speak, but nothing came out.
Genzo rarely said my name. He didn't need to. I was just another pair of hands to him, a broom that moved on its own.
But a part of me, maybe the tired part, wanted to believe I'd finally been seen. That someone in this clan of ghosts and blades had taken notice. Even if it was for punishment.
So I nodded and followed.
.
The path to the springs twisted through whispering bamboo and sleepy cherry trees, their pale petals littering the dirt like forgotten prayers. A quiet mist clung to the branches, wrapping the forest in silk.
My footsteps slowed as we reached the field's edge. The hot spring pools bubbled in the distance, shrouded in veils of steam that blurred the world until it looked like a half-faded dream.
"Is he coming?" I asked, voice low.
Kenji turned to me with a smirk.
"Oh, he's coming," he said.
Sensing that something was wrong, I stopped walking. The air around us felt… off. Too still. Too quiet. Even the cicadas had fallen silent.
I turned to face Rei when suddenly a fist was jammed into my ribs, hard. Ouch!
"You lied—"
A fist slammed into my ribs again..
Pain bloomed like fire.
I dropped onto one knee as my breath knocked out of me. Another kick found my side. Then a hand shoved me into the mud.
The grass clawed at my palms as I tried to rise, but Kenji's voice slithered into my ear.
"You think you're better than us?" he hissed. "You think one day you'll be anything more than a joke?"
I didn't answer. Not because I had nothing to say but because part of me agreed.
It was true that I was nothing but A joke, A coward. The boy who cried at the first cut. The one who flinched at the clink of steel. They weren't wrong.
But I had dreams. Even if they laughed at them. Even if they were foolish and silent and only ever whispered in my mind.
Didn't that count for something?
Their fists rained down again, sharp, wild, cruel. Midway through the beating I tried crawling. One hand forward. Then the other as my vision blurred and my ribs screamed and the scent of iron and hot moss filled my nose.
Why? I thought. Why me? Why always me?
The heat from my cheeks rose to my head, unable to make sense of my surroundings. I was met with yet another hard shove again when I tried standing up but this time my heel met nothing.
Air.
I was falling.
The edge of the spring disappeared beneath me. The last thing I saw was Kenji's eyes widening in shock.
"Kenji! Let's run! before the Masters see us!" Rei's voice broke, panicked.
Splash.
Steam swallowed me as heat wrapped around me like a mother to a child. Boiling and Suffocating. The water dragged me under, and for a second, I thought I was still being hit.
But no.
There were no fists here. Only fire.
Liquid fire, rising through my lungs.
I tried kicking, but my limbs were too slow. My clothes too heavy and the surface above me like a distant moon, unreachable.
I opened my mouth to scream but the water rushed in.
No. No. No. Not like this! Please!Not like this.
I didn't want to die in silence!
I didn't want to be forgotten!
I didn't want to be nothing!
My chest burned and my vision flickered. And then, I saw it. My End. The black behind my eyes. The nothing.
If there's something out there,Please! I begged. Anything. Just give me one chance. One chance to not be a coward. I'll fight. I'll rise. I'll do anything. Just! don't let this be the end!
Please.
Please.
[SYSTEM AWAKENED.]
Is this God? Did I die?
[Welcome, Rogue Initiate.]
[Analyzing soul signature… syncing … unlocking latent protocol…]
[Core Threshold Reached.]
What are these letters? Why are they hanging in front of my eyes?
Slowly the burning in my chest faded and beneath the water, something inside me opened like a door I never knew existed.
And through it…a strong power began to flow.