He was the ninja assassin. The last Iga. And his war had only begun.
Kaito vanished into the treeline, a shadow eating the darkness. the ninja assassin
Kaito’s heart became a stone. He had trained for this moment ten thousand times. He had starved himself on mountaintops. He had meditated beneath frozen waterfalls. He had killed forty-seven men to stand here. And yet, the words still cut deeper than any blade. He was the ninja assassin
“Iga no kozo,” Kuro hissed. Iga brat. “You should have stayed dead.” Kaito vanished into the treeline, a shadow eating
His name was Kaito, and he was the last ghost of the Iga clan.
Two guards patrolled the eastern corridor, lanterns swaying. Kaito counted their heartbeats. One. Two. The chain flew. It wrapped around the first guard’s neck and, with a flick of Kaito’s wrist, snapped his vertebrae before he could gasp. Simultaneously, Kaito’s free hand threw a shuriken —a plain iron star—that embedded itself in the second guard’s throat. Both men fell in the same breath. Kaito caught the lanterns before they hit the ground, extinguishing the flames between his palm and the rain.