The man's words hung in the air like a curse.
"Welcome… to the Cave of Shadow Wraiths."
A thin, suffocating silence followed.
Then it happened — a small boy's whimper broke the hush. His thin shoulders trembled before a tear slipped down his cheek. The kid barely had time to sniffle before a masked figure materialized beside him. A sharp backhand cracked against his face, the sound echoing like a whipcrack against the stone walls.
The boy collapsed in a heap, blood dribbling from his nose as he hit the ground with a sickening thud. His small frame curled in on itself, trembling.
No one moved.
No one dared.
This place… it was a cage. And we were the trapped animals.
"Anybody else want to cry?" the bald man snarled, pacing in front of us like a butcher inspecting livestock. "You're not here to be coddled. You're here to become warriors. From this moment on — you're Shinobi of the Yurei Clan."
Shinobi?
So… I went from a life of bloodshed to another one.
Fate really is a twisted bitch.
A bitter smirk tugged at the corner of my mouth. Instinctively, my gaze flicked upward — just in time to see one of the masked figures blur forward. I reacted on instinct, leaning back. The slap still grazed my cheek, but it missed its mark.
"The hell…?" I muttered under my breath, stumbling backward on these unfamiliar, weak legs.
The masked figure froze, eyes widening slightly behind the slit of his mask. A flicker of surprise. He hadn't expected me to move.
Good. Keep underestimating me.
"Enough."
The bald man's voice cracked through the air like a whip.
He smirked, something cruel in his eyes. "Boy… it isn't your place to rebel."
I kept my eyes locked on the masked figure, unblinking. The other kids stared at me — some wide-eyed in fear, others with a strange flicker of admiration.
Already standing out. Wonderful. That's never a good thing in places like this.
"Boy."
I turned my head. Too late.
The bald man was gone from where he stood. A moment later, a crushing force slammed into my chest like a battering ram. My frail body launched backward, crashing into jagged rock. Pain exploded through every nerve, sharp and immediate.
Shit. Weak. This body's too damn weak.
"Get him up," the bald man barked. "This is what happens when you forget your place."
Two masked figures yanked me to my feet. My vision blurred, blood trickling down my chin.
"Understand this," the man growled, voice lowering like a predator addressing prey. "You are Shinobi now. Emotions are chains. They'll drag you down. What you felt a moment ago — fear, anger, pride — learn to cut them away. Or you'll die here."
The weight in his voice wasn't a threat.
It was a promise.
"You want to move like I did?" he smirked. "Then survive long enough to earn it. That's what this place is for."
He swept his gaze over the rest of the children. "The world doesn't want you. Orphans. Rats. Filth. We took you in because we can turn trash into weapons."
Or bury them in the dirt.
He turned to leave, but paused at the entrance. His smirk returned, aimed squarely at me.
He didn't hit me to punish me. He hit me to set an example. To show these kids what strength looked like — and what happened to those who didn't have it.
"Listen well," he shouted. "You'll remain in this cave for ten years. Five trials will mark your growth. Survive them, and rise through the ranks."
Ten years?
That's… a long time.
And yet, a perfect opportunity.
"By the end," the man continued, "you'll be Master Shinobi. Your body, your mind, your Ki… all honed to perfection. Or you'll rot beneath this mountain."
Ki?
I clenched my fists.
I've got no clue what that is. The original owner of this body was a nobody orphan. No memories left behind. Just this weak shell and a name I don't even know. Looks like I'll have to start from scratch. Again.
The man's voice cut through my thoughts.
"For the next ninety days, you'll train in isolation. Each of you will be assigned a chamber. No light. No contact. No distractions."
Isolation training.
A crooked grin tugged at my lips.
Perfect. I need time to understand this world — and this body.
"You'll study martial arts, internal techniques, Ki manipulation. You'll learn who we are, what we do. Don't mistake us for samurai fools chasing honor. We live in the dark, unseen, unheard. We are Shinobi."
Another life as a ghost in the shadows. How fitting.
More masked figures entered, carrying heavy crates. They dropped them unceremoniously in the center of the room. Inside were scrolls, worn tomes, rusted weapons. Kunai. Short daggers.
Weapons this early? Why arm us now? There's more to this. A test, maybe. Or bait.
"Everything you need is in those crates," the man said. "Use them wisely. Some of you won't live long enough to."
He turned to leave — but a voice stopped him.
"Oi, bastard! Who the hell do you think you are!?"
A spiky-haired boy stepped forward. Older than the rest, probably twelve, anger blazing in his eyes. "You kidnap a bunch of orphans and throw weapons at us like dogs? Expect us to be your Shinobi!?"
The man turned slowly. His grin sharpened.
"You think you're worth something, boy?" His voice was venom. "Do you believe your pitiful life held meaning before this? At least here, you'll have a chance to prove you deserve to exist."
The room tensed. The older boy faltered, rage flickering into doubt.
"And one more thing," the man added, amusement curling his lips. "Check your wrist."
I looked down. A number.
thirty-four.
"There's one hundred of you," the man announced. "That number is your designation. Your worth. It's how we'll track who rises… and who rots."
A heartbeat later, masked Shinobi descended, blurring through the room. One by one, the other children dropped, unconscious.
I tensed, but my battered body wouldn't respond fast enough. A blow landed against the side of my head, darkness swallowing the edges of my vision.
Tch… this isn't the end.
As the blackness closed in, I made myself a promise.
I'll survive this hell. I'll climb to the top. And next time… you'll see me coming.