The wind carried whispers through the village.
It was subtle at first—a hushed murmur among the merchants, a wary glance from shinobi patrolling the streets. But like ripples on a still pond, fear spreads fast.
And the elders were listening.
The Council's Chamber
The dimly lit chamber was silent, save for the flickering of torches lining the walls. Shadows stretched across the worn wooden floor, twisting like unseen figures looming over the gathering.
At the head of the room, seated upon a raised platform, was Elder Hideo—a man whose presence alone commanded obedience. His hair, once as black as midnight, had grayed with age, yet his sharp amber eyes remained untouched by time. His expression was unreadable as he studied the reports before him.
To his right sat Elder Naoko, draped in crimson robes embroidered with the sigil of the nation. Her slender fingers tapped against the armrest of her chair, her narrowed eyes filled with cold calculation.
To his left, Elder Genzo, a man built like a warrior long past his prime, exhaled heavily, his calloused hand gripping the hilt of his cane. His jaw was clenched.
And before them, kneeling on the polished floor, was a shinobi scout, his head bowed low.
"It has begun," the scout reported. His voice carried no emotion, but the weight of his words thickened the air. "Takeshi has started training the boy."
A long, suffocating silence followed.
Then—
"Foolish." Naoko's voice was sharp as a blade. "He dares to take that cursed child under his wing?"
Genzo scoffed. "Did you expect anything less? Takeshi has always been reckless. But this—" His grip tightened on his cane. "This is beyond recklessness. This is treason."
Hideo said nothing. He merely turned the page of the report, his fingers lingering over the inked words.
"The boy… has shown signs, hasn't he?" His voice was calm, but beneath it lay an unspoken tension.
The scout hesitated.
"Yes."
The torches flickered.
Naoko exhaled sharply. "Then we cannot afford to wait. The beast within him—" she paused, choosing her words carefully, "—will awaken. It is only a matter of time."
Genzo leaned forward. "You should have let us end him when he was born, Hideo."
The chamber grew colder.
Hideo finally looked up, his amber eyes settling on Genzo like a hawk studying its prey.
"And yet, we did not." His voice was measured, but there was a finality to it. "The decision was made. We sealed the Kuragari inside him, believing we could control its influence. Killing him now would serve no purpose other than to make us look weak."
Genzo's lips curled into a sneer. "Then what do you suggest? That we sit and watch while Takeshi creates a monster?"
Hideo leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together.
"We watch. And when the time comes…" His eyes darkened. "We decide his fate."
The Eyes in the Shadows
Outside the chamber, unseen in the rafters, a figure crouched low, cloaked in black. Silent. Unnoticed. Listening.
A woman—young, but sharp-eyed, her short raven hair barely brushing her shoulders. Her body was lean, her movements precise, like a panther lying in wait.
Her name was Mei.
And she was one of the village's spies.
She had been ordered to monitor Takeshi. To observe the boy. To report every flicker of power, every sign of danger.
But as she listened to the elders speak of Renjiro's fate as if he were nothing but a weapon to be discarded, something in her chest twisted.
She had seen the child before.
A boy left to rot in isolation. A boy who barely spoke. A boy whose only crime was being born a vessel for something greater than himself.
And yet, they already spoke of him as if he were doomed.
Her hands curled into fists.
She would watch.
She would listen.
But perhaps, when the time came, she would decide his fate herself.