The rain fell relentlessly on the rooftops of Tokyo, a dull, unbroken sound, as if the sky itself were weeping in the midst of the quiet storm that was unfolding inside this secluded room. The city was swallowed by darkness, its streets abandoned, empty. Only the sound of the rain echoed in the night, like a reminder of the world outside. In a room away from prying eyes, a cry rang out—a baby's cry—piercing the air as a child was brought into the world, into the storm. But this was not the cry of an ordinary infant. It marked the beginning of a much darker fate, one of violence and solitude.
The baby, a boy, lay in his crib, his small, fragile body wriggling in the air as if searching for freedom. His face was typically Asian: almond-shaped eyes, fair skin, and hair black as ink. But these features were only the surface of a much darker destiny, one forged in the depths of a secret organization, ruthless and unrelenting.
In the shadows, the man who had fathered the child stood, motionless, observing his son without any visible emotion. He was not here to be a father, but to ensure the continuation of his empire. The man—now the leader of the criminal syndicate, Shredder—knew that this birth was the beginning of another chapter in his grand plan. This small being would not be a child, but an heir, a tool for vengeance.
In a dark corner of the room, the old advisor, Madame Gao, stood, watching the scene with a serene curiosity, as if she were a spectator to the weaving of fates in the shadows. She knew that the birth of this child would change everything. The tides of their organization were shifting. "He is born," she said softly, her voice calm, almost detached. "The time has come to shape his future."
But Shredder did not move. He kept his gaze fixed on the baby. A heavy silence stretched between them, suffocating, laden with the weight of inevitability. He knew this boy would not grow up like other children. He would not experience the comfort or joy of a normal childhood. He would be trained in darkness, his only connection to the world would be his own power, his own will. What mattered now was domination.
"This is not a birth," he finally spoke, his voice low but firm. "This is a beginning. This child—he must understand from the very first moment that he is not meant to live like others. Solitude will be his legacy. And that solitude—will be his strength."
Madame Gao, who knew precisely what such a decision entailed, nodded slowly, her eyes gleaming with a calculating light. "The syndicate has no room for weakness. This boy must learn from the start to face solitude. Only by standing alone can he defend himself against every enemy that will inevitably rise against him."
A thick silence fell over the room as the baby continued to cry, a demand for warmth and security in a world that would give him neither. But this child would never know such things. He would not have the luxury of being a simple infant.
Shredder finally turned to Madame Gao, a cold glint in his eyes. "He will be named… Hitori," he said, as though he were bestowing a verdict. "He is and will be a child of solitude. He will grow alone, and he will learn that his destiny is that of a predator, not a man. The syndicate will need him, but he must understand that he will have nothing but his own will to rely on."
"A name heavy with meaning," Madame Gao replied, her voice betraying no emotion. "Hitori, the solitary one. The man who will rule through solitude."
"Exactly," Shredder confirmed, his voice unyielding. "He will be forged in isolation. In darkness. And all he becomes, he will owe to himself."
Madame Gao remained silent for a moment, then stepped closer to the crib. She gently lifted the child into her arms, an almost ceremonial gesture, and gazed at him with cold curiosity. The baby, though fragile and vulnerable, seemed a little stronger, a little more determined, as if he could already sense the weight of the world that awaited him.
Shredder stepped forward as well. He stood over the crib, gazing down at the boy's face. So young, so innocent, but already marked by a fate he could not escape.
"Prepare him," he ordered finally, his tone devoid of any warmth. "He will have no softness from a father. He will have no illusions of youth. He must learn, now, that he is nothing but a weapon, an extension of my will."
Madame Gao, after one last glance at the child, bowed and turned toward the door, ready to obey. But before she could cross the threshold, Shredder stopped her with a sharp gesture.
"Wait," he said, his eyes still fixed on the baby. "Do not call him Hitori yet. Not in front of the others. Not until he understands what that name truly means. One day, this name will be synonymous with power, with terror. But not until he is ready to bear it."
Madame Gao nodded silently and exited the room. Shredder stood alone, the only sound in the room being the rain tapping on the windows. He gazed down at his son, the heir, the child of darkness, his future already written in the shadows.
"You will bear this burden, Hitori," he whispered, more to himself than to the infant. "And you will bear it alone."
The baby, still trembling in his arms, would grow. And one day, he would rule in the shadows. All he would have to do was accept it.
~
End of the chapter !!!
It is a prologue explaining the direction of the story to come.
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