The supermarket buzzed with life—voices overlapping, carts squeaking, and scanners beeping in rapid succession. The air carried a mix of freshly baked bread, detergent, and the faint tang of citrus from the cleaning aisles.
Dame maneuvered through the crowd like a seasoned expert, plucking items off the shelves with practiced ease. His eyes darted between his list and the checkout counters.
"Yanki Supermarket really knows their stuff," he muttered, double-checking his haul. "Baking powder—check. Rite Wash soap—check. Orange wine spray—check. Phew… That should be everything."
Then, as if struck by a sudden realization, a wicked grin spread across his face.
"Heh. I can already picture Van's face when he realizes who's been watching him all along. Oh, how the tables have turned."
The sun hung lazily in the sky, casting warm golden hues over the bustling streets. Beneath the cool embrace of an ancient oak tree, an old man stood, his presence commanding yet unassuming. By his side, two young boys lingered, their eyes flickering between each other and the elder.
The man exhaled deeply, as if savoring a private joke. "Someone's been using my martial techniques without my permission." His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable edge to it—a challenge wrapped in amusement.
Van shifted uneasily, guilt creeping into his expression. "S-Sorry, sir... You were just so cool and interesting to watch. I felt like I was being pulled in."
The old man studied him, his gaze sharp but not unkind. "Hmm… What's your name, boy?"
Van swallowed. "Van, sir. I stay at the Oakville Orphanage."
A knowing smirk tugged at the elder's lips. "As I thought. I've sensed a kid watching me from time to time these past few weeks."
Van hesitated. "Am I… in trouble for this?"
The old man's laughter rumbled through the air like distant thunder. "Trouble?" He leaned in slightly, his smirk widening. "You used Jukojitsu techniques to protect someone in need. That's not something to be punished for, now is it?"
Van's shoulders relaxed, his eyes filled with curiosity and hope. "So… I'm not in trouble for using your martial arts?".
"But there's one condition—come to the dojo from time to time and sharpen your skills. You've got potential, young one."
Silence hung between them, heavy with meaning.
A boy sprinted down the street, panting heavily, sweat trailing down his forehead. His frantic eyes darted around as he searched for his companions.
"Yo, Van! Ayo, Van! I got the items!" Dame shouted, skidding to a stop, nearly doubling over to catch his breath. "But we gotta go—fast! We only have fifteen minutes before we get into some serious trouble!"
Before Van could respond, the sharp honk of a truck pierced the air. A small, battered vehicle, its cargo bed stacked with boxes, supplies, and equipment, rumbled to a stop nearby. A man hopped out, his uniform stained with dust and sweat.
"Oi, Sensei! We're heading to the basement to offload the supplies," the man—Akio—called out.
"Good work, Akio. Keep at it." Mr. Lee smiled approvingly, then turned to the boys. "Well, young lads, care for a ride?"
Van and Dame exchanged wary glances.
Mr. Lee chuckled. "Oh, come now. You can trust me. No danger here, I promise." His voice was light, yet carried a confidence that made it difficult to doubt him.
Dame nudged Van. "He's got a point. We've seen him at the orphanage talking to Mr. Kage and Miss Lana."
They were about to climb in when Dame suddenly stopped. He turned, eyes settling on the frail, tattered boy who stood a few feet away, uncertainty shadowing his face.
"Hey, buddy," Dame said with an easy smile. "You coming?"
The boy hesitated, his eyes widening in surprise. "Me?" He pointed to himself, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Yeah, dude. Come on in already," Van added with a reassuring nod.
For a moment, the boy just stood there, lips slightly parted, as if grappling with emotions he hadn't felt in a long time. Then, slowly, his face broke into a small, almost disbelieving smile.
Without another word, he climbed into the truck, the door shutting behind him with a soft click.
As the truck rumbled down the dimly lit streets, a shadowy figure stood atop a nearby rooftop, his white hoodie fluttering in the night breeze. A crimson skull was emblazoned on both the front and back of his hoodie, marking him as a harbinger of chaos. His eyes, glowing with a sinister red hue, locked onto the vehicle as if burning its image into his memory.
"Hmph… Kenji," the man muttered, his voice laced with venom. "You really think you can hide after stealing from the Red Skulls?"
A cruel smirk crept onto his face as a dark red aura surged behind him, crackling like embers in the wind. "No one stomps on the Red Skulls and lives to tell the tale."
Without hesitation, he leaped into the air, the red energy expanding behind him like ghostly wings. In mere seconds, he was soaring high above the streets, his gaze never leaving the truck as he followed it from the sky.
Inside the vehicle, laughter filled the air.
"Yo, Dame, looks like you got everything," Van mused, casually leaning against the side of the truck.
"Yeah… everything except the fun of the extra time," Dame sighed in exaggerated defeat, slumping forward.
Van chuckled. "Hey, at least something good came out of it."
Dame smirked knowingly. "You better not forget your part of the deal."
Van groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah, yeah… ninjas."
But as he spoke, his mind drifted, his expression turning distant. Somewhere in the depths of his memory, a voice echoed—low, powerful, and full of undeniable authority.
"( You have been granted Ultimate Ninja System.)"
[ Do you accept]
Van stood there, confused and breathless, his thoughts tangled in the silence it left behind.
"Man... I really need to clear my head," Van muttered, running a hand through his hair. Strange things happen every day, but this... this is on a whole different level. He let out a deep sigh, the weight of confusion pressing down on him like a storm he couldn't see coming.