A story about one of the awesomest people that have ever been on this Earth. Ninjas. Check it out.
Death and birth, Rise of the New Emperor.
I never thought this day would come. We, the most feared, the most ruthless and most untouchable were being killed off by the same powers that used our services throughout this civil war.
War. It is such a small word, but with such an immense and variable meaning. A meaning that could be stretched and shortened, but is often utmost hurtful, even to the winner. Why do we consider words that have the most foolish meanings to be unfitting for public use, while words with such a horrible meaning behind them, like war, to be a part of our everyday vocabulary? They will never know, and I will probably never find out...
It was a chilly autumn morning, where the forest was being colored over because of the new mood of the artist we call time. He was repainting it in colors that were much brighter than those of summer, throwing bright yellows and standout red marks without forgetting the occasional brown to darken up the whole masterpiece. But despite the beautiful colors that the artist called Time was painting the lush forest with, he couldn't hide his mood, which was sad, gloomy and some might even call it... tragic.
Deep inside of the magnificently lamentable forest, there was a pack of people who were enjoying their remaining hours of restless sleep. Inside a few dozen of primitive looking yellowish and reddish houses, were men and women whose everyday job was to spy, sabotage, steal and assassinate. Together they formed one of the most feared, respected and expensive clans that the rulers of their era could hire. They were a clan, which was hated by all other clans for their superior skills. Those same skills infused terror into every major figure in the government of such an unstable country. Together, they had no code or any rules to obey. Unlike the samurai, they obeyed the price. In late fifteenth century, price spoke to them much louder then someone's pleas for mercy and begging for forgiveness. Together they were a clan of best ninjas in the entire country of Japan. Together, they were the Wind Walkers.
I was still asleep, seeing nothing but the blackness due to the uncomfortable conditions in which we were living for almost a month. ...I would have taken the blackness of my sleep rather than the darkness of my reality... Reality's choke was too weak to strangle me after taking all of my brothers and sisters. Or maybe it was destiny that decided to interfere and force reality to back away and save me. In any case, it didn't save them...
The camp of ninjas was more silent than the whisper of the surrounding wind. Their location was not known to anyone, not after their last completed task. Even the Wind Walkers did not wish to take on that job, but then the price won again, having the assistance of “fare” pressure from the prince himself. Yes, only the son of the emperor could have wished for his father to die in the hand of the Wind Walkers. The emperor was loved by everyone in the country, because his ruling was fare and good, even to the ninjas. The leader of the Wind Walkers had met the emperor personally more than once and they both relied on each other on more than one occasion. But the moral among the ninjas always was one step closer to the truth, “Do not befriend those outside of the clan, because tomorrow... you might kill them.”
Yes, our clan had murdered the emperor. There was always a certain charm around anyone who had the title of the emperor. It was like an invincibility barrier. No clan could ever touch the emperor, no matter the price or the circumstances. What the circumstances could not have predicted, was that the order for the death of the leader would come from his rotten son.
The clan was still sleeping, and maybe even dreaming about the reality where emperor was still alive. After killing him, they knew there would be no peace to them, everyone would have the Wind Walkers on their most wanted lists. But they knew how to hide well, and no one in the country knew their exact faces. No one could distinguish a Wind Walker from a regular farmer with the right clothes on, which helped the clan stay alive and active in the community outside of the forest, living peacefully as almost normal people. But there are exceptions. Deadly exceptions. Two people had seen the faces of their best ninjas. The one who they used to call emperor was dead. The one who became the emperor, was not.
I do not remember too much of that day, I just know it was his fault. Roji Sariyama, the newly self-proclaimed emperor. He managed to track us down, I do not know how – blackmailing, threatening, killing, bribing... Those seemed like the obvious choices for his character. I have to give him credit though, he was smart enough to understand how big of a threat we were to his newly acquired reign as an emperor. If we were the only ninjas that were ruthless and bold enough to kill the emperor, then what would stop someone in his government from coming to us? All it would take is the right price on his head, and we would be famous for not one, but two emperor assassinations. He knew the threat we opposed, and he also knew how to eliminate such a threat.
And the ninjas of the Wind Walker clan were still soundly sleeping away their early morning. The early birds haven't started singing yet, and the sun was only now showing a little bit more than a half of its radiant self. Their reactions and senses applied during their sleep, but everything was too quiet to wake them up. Even the small legion of samurai that was now completely surrounding the entire camp of the most notorious ninja clan was being silent enough, so to not disturb anyone's sleep. The samurai were following the exact orders of the young and ruthless emperor, who was with them that day. Roji was standing safely behind his samurai legion, with a quirky and sinister smile on his youthful face, as if already imagining the taste of the victorious massacre. He was not older than seventeen.
Roji was looking through the window of one of the houses and watching the leader of the clan breathe away the last breaths of his lawless life, along with his wife and two sons. He could care less about children, no matter how small they were. All Roji wanted is for this clan to be eliminated, as they were the only ones who possessed the kind of boldness and disregard for laws that could end his life and career as the ruler of Japan.
All of the samurai men stood in a position that indicated they were ready to attack. All of them had a hand on their sharp swords, ready to draw them out and cut through all life. Behind the swordsmen, there were rows of samurai who had their explosive arrows in a ready position, only needing an ignition to send their ammunition at the dreaming ninja. Despite the calm look on the faces of the samurai, inside they were dreadfully nervous, as the legends of the clans superior ninja skills were awe-inspiring.
All we needed was a loud sigh of a samurai, a snap of a twig... That would have been enough. Enough to awaken my father and his clansmen. Enough for us to stand up just in time to hold them off and then disappear. Poof into nothingness. Be gone from Roji's sight, so that he may never discover us again. That was all we needed. That is all I dream of to this day. But the reality is much more cruel than our dreams. Reality decided to not give any kind of warning, or a sign. I do not know if it was for the better or for the worst, but in the next second... The first arrow was set on fire.
Post Edited:2007-08-19 12:34:37