The first Koga attacked—a spinning kick aimed at Kaito’s skull. Kaito flowed under it like water, driving the spike of his kusarigama into the man’s femoral artery. The second came low, a tanto thrust to the kidneys. Kaito twisted, caught the man’s wrist, and redirected the blade into the third Koga’s chest. In the space of a heartbeat, two were dead, and the third was screaming.
He leaned close. His breath smelled of iron and rain. the ninja assassin
He slid the door open.
“I paid the Koga five hundred ryo to burn your school,” the warlord continued, sipping his sake. “Your mother cried out for you, did you know that? She called your name until the smoke took her.” The first Koga attacked—a spinning kick aimed at
Kaito said nothing. He had not spoken a word in three years. His voice had burned away with his village. Kaito twisted, caught the man’s wrist, and redirected
For the first time in three years, a sound escaped his throat. It was not a word. It was a low, terrible laugh—the sound of a man who had already lost everything and found that freedom in the loss.
Lord Oda Hidetora was waiting for him. The warlord sat in the center of the room on a crimson cushion, a cup of sake in his hand. He was old, with a shaved head and a wispy beard, but his eyes were sharp as shattered glass. Behind him, a single candle flickered.