You know…. I never would've imagined my death would come through betrayal—a bitter taste of my own medicine. Yet, there I was, sprawled on the forest floor, staring death in the face. The edges of my vision blurred, darkness creeping in with every shallow breath. The last sound I heard was a voice—familiar, trembling, and filled with regret.
"I'm sorry… Damian."
That voice belonged to my best friend. My brother in all but blood. The one man I trusted with my life. To think the world's greatest assassin would meet his end not by a rival or some elaborate plot, but by the very person he trusted most. A pathetic way to go.
As the shadows closed around me, I thought about the "light at the end of the tunnel" people always talked about. A comforting lie, I'd always called it. But now, as the world around me faded, there it was—bright, glaring, and inescapable. I tried to sneer at the irony, but my body refused to move.
Then, in the silence, a strange, robotic voice echoed in my mind.
What? Vessel? What vessel? My mind raced, desperate to understand, but I could feel myself slipping further into the void. Pain—unrelenting and all-consuming—flooded every fiber of my being. It wasn't the sharp pain of a knife or the dull ache of betrayal. It was as though my very soul was being torn apart and pieced back together.
Before I could scream, the pain stopped, and I woke with a gasp, my heart pounding. Sunlight shining through the trees, and the sound of birds chirping filled the air. I sat up, disoriented, my hands trembling as I looked around. The forest I had died in was gone, rather replaced by a serene forest bathed in golden light.
I stumbled to a nearby pond, desperate for answers. What greeted me wasn't my reflection. The sharp, calculating eyes of Damian West were gone. Instead, a pale, frail boy stared back at me with wide, innocent eyes and long, messy black hair.
"What the…" My voice came out as a high-pitched whisper, barely audible.
Before I could think on the implications, a translucent screen appeared before me, floating in the air.
Takeda Hanzo?
Another screen materialized, this time filled with text.
I let out a dry laugh. My stats were pitiful, a far cry from the peak physical condition I'd maintained as Damian West. Before I could process this strange new reality, another screen popped up.
<0/100 Push-Ups>
<0/100 Crunches>
<0/100 Pull-Ups>
<0/15 Miles Ran>
Training. Of course. Some higher power had decided to throw me into a child's body and make me start from scratch. How generous of them.
I looked around, taking in the surroundings. The forest was unlike anything I'd seen in my old world. Towering trees stretched high above, their leaves glinting faintly in the sunlight. The air was rich with the scent of damp earth and something faintly sweet, almost floral. Strange creatures darted between the trees—squirrel-like but with long, feathery tails that shimmered as they moved.
The ground beneath me was soft, covered in moss that seemed to glow faintly when touched. Everything about this place felt… alive. Not just alive but vibrant, as if the forest itself was breathing.
Before I could think on it further, a voice called out behind me.
"Takeda! Why are you screaming?"
I turned to see a girl, perhaps fifteen or sixteen, jogging toward me. Her short black hair framed a face that was sharp yet youthful, her dark eyes narrowing with concern as she approached.
"I wasn't screaming." I lied, though my voice cracked, betraying me.
She rolled her eyes. "Right. Well, come on. Mother made breakfast. And stop wandering off. You'll get us in trouble."
She turned and began walking away, clearly expecting me to follow.
I hesitated for a moment before trailing behind her. The walk back was quiet, and as we passed under a massive torii gate, I saw it—a modest estate surrounded by well-kept gardens. The house, though simple in design, exuded a sense of tradition and discipline.
The estate was surrounded by walls of dark wood, reinforced with iron bands that gleamed in the sunlight. Small stone lanterns lined the path leading to the main house, their bases etched with intricate patterns of swirling clouds and cranes. Beyond the gate, I could see a training yard with wooden dummies and rows of neatly arranged weapons.
As we entered, a woman with jet black hair and soft brown eyes greeted us. Her presence radiated warmth, her smile so genuine it made me pause.
"Takeda, Tomoe, where have you been?" she asked, her tone more curious than scolding.
"Just training, Mother," Tomoe replied casually, her words dripping with nonchalance.
"Training? At this hour?"
"Environment blending." Tomoe added, shrugging as if it were the most normal thing in the world.
Environment blending? The term piqued my interest, but I stayed silent, observing.
Breakfast was uneventful, though I used the time to study the family dynamics. The woman—my supposed mother—was kind but firm, while Tomoe carried herself with the confidence of someone who had already mastered her place in the world. I was the outlier, a stranger in a child's body.
Later, I wandered the estate, piecing together what I could about my new life. My room was small but comfortable, its shelves lined with books and scrolls written in a language I couldn't read.
Eventually, I stumbled upon a hidden room behind the library. The moment I stepped inside, I froze. Glass cases lined the walls, filled with weapons—swords, kunai, shurikens. At the center of the room was a pedestal, atop which rested a golden object engraved with the name "Hanzo" and an ancient scroll.
Another screen appeared.
"Yes." I whispered, curiosity overriding caution.
The text on the scroll shifted, and I could suddenly read it.
"To the one who reads this: If you have found this scroll, then you are destined to inherit the power of Yamigan—the Eyes of Eternal Darkness. This forbidden technique is the legacy of Hiroshi Hanzo, the Shadow Emperor."
The moment I finished reading, black energy erupted around me, swirling like a living shadow.
I opened my player card again, and my stats had jumped significantly. The change was real—I could feel it in every fiber of my being.
This wasn't just a new life. It was a second chance. A world of possibilities lay before me, and I intended to seize them. Damian West may have died, but Takeda Hanzo was just beginning.