In a distant land steeped in mystery and tradition, there lived a young boy named Musashi. At the tender age of five, he was already known for his sickly nature and his arrogance that far exceeded his years. Musashi's family was affluent, despite the death of his father living in a grand estate surrounded by lush gardens and ornate pagodas.
On this particular moonlit night, a soft breeze rustled through the cherry blossom trees, carrying with it a sense of foreboding. Musashi, confined to his chambers due to illness, lay on a silk-covered bed, adorned with the finest linens that money could buy.
As he lay there, a strange hush fell upon the estate. The night seemed to hold its breath, and an unsettling silence permeated the air. Unbeknownst to Musashi, a group of shadowy figures silently made their way through the estate's labyrinthine corridors. These were no ordinary intruders; they were skilled and deadly ninjas, their presence an ominous omen of impending danger.
Musashi, lost in his own world of privilege and entitlement, paid little heed to the unusual calm. He was engrossed in the stories of great samurai heroes, imagining himself as a warrior of unparalleled prowess, revered by all. His arrogance had blinded him to the realities beyond his pampered existence.
Suddenly, the night erupted in chaos. Musashi's door was flung open with a resounding crash, and the young boy was jolted from his fantasies to a grim reality. Standing before him were the menacing figures of the ninjas, dressed in black from head to toe, their eyes gleaming with intent.
Fear gripped Musashi's heart, and he let out a terrified shriek, his arrogance crumbling like a fragile castle of sand. But the cruel hand of fate was not done with him yet. As he tried to make sense of the unfolding nightmare, he witnessed a horrifying scene.
The ninjas moved with lightning speed, their deadly precision unmatched. Musashi's mother, a graceful and kind woman, bravely confronted the intruders, seeking to protect her son. But her efforts were in vain as the ninjas, like shadows in the night, swiftly overpowered her.
In the midst of the chaos, the estate was set ablaze, flames dancing with malevolence, consuming everything in their path. Musashi's opulent world was crumbling around him, and the loss of his mother left a void in his heart that no amount of arrogance could fill.
Tears streamed down the young boy's face as he watched his mother fall, her life extinguished like a flickering candle. He realized, in that harrowing moment, that his pretentious dreams of becoming a samurai were nothing more than childish illusions. The true cost of arrogance and the fragility of life were laid bare before him.
As the estate burned and the ninjas vanished into the night, Musashi has left a changed boy, humbled by tragedy and loss. The once proud and arrogant child now carried the weight of sorrow and a newfound sense of vulnerability.
Little did he know that this night of devastation and darkness would be the beginning of a journey, one that would lead him down a path of self-discovery, redemption, and the pursuit of true strength. as memories from a life he did not have flooded his mind.
Musashi POV
my nostrils flare as I wake up with a loud cough remembering the previous day of the charred skin of my sister and the screams of my mother. I stalk out and catch a ride on a village cart tossing my sickly self into the carriage and softly praying the driver doesn't hear me weep in my sleep.
Another night passes since the incident I'm awoken by grunts and murmers from the balding driver. 'thanks' I say to him as we stop by our destination a small village town rife with loud noises and the smell of sake and boose. The smell is nostalgic but feels me with dread as it reminds me of the memories I've received as it forces my anxiety to rear its nasty head and turn in my stomach. I dismount and the old man gingerly pats me on the back as I hand him a coin from a small bag on my person.
I walk tentatively in the small village until I reach a smelly bar. My silk robe muddied by the ground, still reeking of fire ash and blood and wishing in my heart my memories are true. My skin pale my hair almost jet black with a hint of a lighter blue, face all sharp angles despite sharing a mischievous cat like smile to those that walk past me I open the door wishing to meet my saviour.
General pov
A sickly young boy works into an mostly empty bar. He catches who he is looking for a stumbles forward
Musashi: [Approaching Tsunade with wide eyes] Excuse me, miss! Are you a magic lady?
Tsunade: [Taken aback by the innocence of the child despite his serious demeanour ] Uh, not exactly, kid. I'm more of a cynical ninja.
Musashi: sorry but that's what my mother used to call you But I heard magic ladies can heal people! You see, I'm really sick, and I need someone to make me better. Can you help?
Tsunade: [Gazing at the child with a mix of surprise and disbelief] "Who's your mother you brat" waving her hand at the veil of dust musashi brings
Musashi: [Unfazed by her response] himiko kohinata was her name , and my mother is gone, so I don't know who else to ask.
Tsunade: [Sighs, realizing the seriousness of the situation] Alright, alright. Tell me what's wrong, but remember, I'm not a magician. And your little surviving orphan schtick doesn't faze me
Musashi: [Eagerly] Well, you see, I feel weak all the time, and I don't have any energy . My mother said it was due to my father's blood.
Tsunade: [Contemplating for a moment] Kid, if it's not something a simple bottle of saki can fix. Then I ain't got nothing for you "SHIZUNNNNE!'