Kenji (pt.1)

In the heart of feudal Japan, amidst the lush green rice fields and ancient temples, lived a young boy named Kenji. His world was one of harsh realities, where the sun beat down unmercifully, and the air was thick with the scent of impending doom.
Kenji's family, like many others, was struggling to survive. The emperor's insatiable demands for taxes had left them destitute, their meager rations barely enough to keep them alive. His father, once a strong and proud farmer, was now a mere shadow of his former self, his body ravaged by illness, his spirit broken by the harsh realities of life.
The tension in the village grew day by day as the samurai's arrival became imminent. The villagers trembled with fear, knowing that the samurai would not spare them their wrath.
One fateful night, as the village slept, the samurai arrived like a whirlwind of death and destruction. Their heavy footsteps echoed through the village, their swords glinting ominously in the fading light. They moved with ruthless efficiency, their eyes scanning the streets for any signs of resistance.
Kenji's mother, sensing the impending danger, immediately rushed him to the family heirloom chest, a large wooden box covered in intricate carvings and symbols. She knew the samurai would not spare the young boy, and she was desperate to protect him.
"Kenji," she whispered, her voice trembling, "go into the chest. Don't come out until I tell you to."
Kenji, his heart pounding like a drum, obeyed his mother without hesitation. He squeezed into the chest, the darkness swallowing him whole.
His mother then covered the chest with a dirty, rugged piece of cloth to hide it from the samurai.
Meanwhile, Kenji's father, despite his weakened state, tried to protect his wife and son. He rushed into the house, his eyes blazing with defiance.
The samurai, seeing his defiance, immediately lunged at him, their swords glinting menacingly. Kenji, peeking through a small crack in the chest, watched in horror as his father was slashed down by the samurai's swords.
Kenji let out a muffled cry, his heart sinking into the depths of despair. His father, his protector, his hero, was now gone.
The samurai, satisfied that they had eliminated the threat, turned their attention to the other villagers. They ransacked the houses, looting and pillaging, leaving behind a trail of destruction.
Kenji, his body trembling, remained hidden in the chest, his tears flowing freely down his cheeks. He felt utterly alone and helpless in the face of such overwhelming power.
After what seemed like an eternity, the samurai finally left, leaving behind a trail of death.
Kenji had never felt so alone in his life. His parents were gone, his home was destroyed, and the village was in ruins. He had no one to turn to, no one to help him. All he had was the headband his father had given him, a simple band of black silk with a silver insignia embossed on it.
Kenji didn’t know what the insignia meant, but he felt a strange connection to it. It was as if it held some kind of power, some kind of magic. He clutched it tightly in his hand, hoping that it would somehow protect him.
With tears streaming down his face, Kenji ran out of the house and into the forest. He ran through the thick undergrowth, his bare feet pounding against the hard earth. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had to get away from the village. He had to escape the memory of what he had seen.
As he ran, he stumbled upon the bamboo forest. The towering bamboo stalks rose up like sentinels, their leaves rustling in the wind. Kenji felt a sense of calm wash over him as he entered the forest. It was as if the bamboo was protecting him from the horrors of the outside world.
He ran deeper into the forest, the bamboo stalks closing in around him. He felt safe here, hidden from the world. He could finally mourn his parents, finally let go of his grief.
As he sat down on a fallen log, he took off the headband and looked at the insignia. He traced the delicate lines with his finger, feeling a surge of power coursing through his veins.
Suddenly, three figures emerged from the shadows. They were dressed in black robes, their faces hidden by masks. Kenji froze in fear, his heart pounding in his chest.
The three figures approached him, their footsteps silent on the soft earth. Kenji closed his eyes, bracing himself for the worst.
But then, one of the figures spoke. “The insignia,” he said, his voice calm and authoritative, “it belongs to the Iga ninja clan.”

To be continued...