FIVE YEARS AGO...
Riku adjusted his stance, holding his wooden bokken lazily in one hand, his usual cocky smirk in place. Across from him, Hiroshi glared, gripping his own weapon like it had personally offended him.
"This time, I'm going to beat you," Hiroshi said, voice low, eyes sharp with determination.
Riku raised an eyebrow. "You've said that every time we've sparred. And yet, here we are."
Hiroshi's jaw tightened, refusing to take the bait. "Today's different. You'll see."
They bowed, and then—chaos.
Hiroshi came at Riku with everything he had, swinging hard, fast, and with the kind of energy that said I'm going to win or die trying. Unfortunately for him, Riku dodged and parried with ease, his movements annoyingly smooth, like he wasn't even trying.
The match intensified, wooden swords clashing in a rapid, rhythmic blur, but it was obvious who had control.
"You're too predictable," Riku said casually, sidestepping another wild strike and countering with a sharp smack to Hiroshi's ribs.
Hiroshi stumbled back, his face twisting in frustration. "Shut up!" he snapped, charging forward again with all the grace of an angry bull.
And maybe, just maybe, this was the moment Hiroshi was about to prove himself.
But then—
"Enough!"
Ronin's voice sliced through the air like a real sword, stopping them both mid-movement.
The courtyard fell silent.
Both boys turned toward their master, lowering their weapons. But Ronin wasn't alone.
Beside him stood a girl, no older than them, her striking blue eyes red and puffy from crying. Long black hair framed her pale face, and she looked... delicate, like she might break if the wind blew too hard.
"This is Midori Himura," Ronin said, his voice firm but not unkind. "She'll be living here from now on. She's my new student."
Riku's gaze locked onto hers.
They stood there, staring at each other for what felt like an eternity. Midori's eyes burned with raw emotion, her chest rising and falling with shaky breaths. Then, suddenly, she shoved Riku away, her voice breaking as she screamed,
"Why did you do it?!"
"Why did you bastards kill my mother?!"
Hiroshi muttered under his breath, "Damn... she's got a mouth on her."
Ronin remained still, his expression unreadable. His sharp eyes studied her, but he didn't react to her outburst.
Midori's hands balled into fists at her sides, her whole body trembling. "ANSWER ME!" she screamed.
Ronin finally spoke, his voice steady but laced with something the boys had never heard before—regret. "She violated the Legion's policies. It was my job to put down whoever opposed the Legion."
For the first time, Riku saw something break in him.
Ronin had always been hard on them, strict in his teachings, unyielding in discipline. But he was also the kind of man who carried something heavy on his shoulders. Even when he smiled at them, there was always a sadness lingering behind it, like a ghost that refused to let him go.
And now, standing before Midori, that ghost had fully emerged.
He wasn't just a warrior. He was a man who had seen too much.
Midori searched his face for something—an answer, an explanation, anything that would make it make sense. But when she found nothing, her face twisted in anger, pain, and betrayal. Without another word, she turned and ran off, her black hair flowing behind her as she disappeared into the night.
Ronin didn't stop her.
He didn't say anything.
He just turned on his heel and walked away, his footsteps slow, heavy, burdened.
Riku and Hiroshi stood in silence, exchanging glances before wordlessly deciding to go after Midori.
—
Meanwhile, Ronin made his way to his office.
The moment he stepped inside, he shut the door behind him, exhaling as he leaned against it. The room was dimly lit, but he didn't bother turning on the lamp. He didn't need to see.
He already knew what was waiting for him in the darkness.
The screams.
No matter how much time passed, they never left him. The faces. The voices. The blood.
Even now, when he closed his eyes, he could hear them.
People he had cut down. People he had been ordered to cut down.
He knew what he was. A tool. A weapon for the Legion.
And weapons didn't get to feel remorse.
So why did it still haunt him?
Why did it always haunt him?
—
Meanwhile, Riku and Hiroshi had enlisted Aiko, who had slipped away from her master's house in the compound to meet up with them.
They eventually found Midori sitting beneath a tree, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped tightly around them. She looked so small, so fragile in that moment—so unlike the firestorm of anger she had been just minutes ago.
They approached carefully.
Riku, sensing she might not react well to them pushing for answers, took a different approach. He crouched in front of her, keeping his voice gentle.
"Hey... are you okay?"
Midori slowly lifted her head. Her eyes were red and swollen, dark bags underneath them.
Her expression twisted into something bitter.
"No," she said, her voice hoarse. "Those bastards killed my mother."
Riku inhaled sharply. "But... the Legion only kills bad people. People they deem a threat—"
"And what gives them the right?" Midori cut him off, her voice sharp. She lifted her head fully now, her blue eyes burning with something deeper than rage. "Who decides what makes a person a threat? Who decides who gets to live and who has to die? Some council? A group of faceless leaders who sit behind desks and make decisions about people they will never know? Who gave them the authority to play gods with human lives?"
Her voice wavered, but she wasn't finished.
"What is justice if it's just another word for murder? What is order if it means silencing people who cry out for help? What is power if it's used to crush those who cannot fight back?!"
Riku found himself speechless.
Midori's words cut deep—deeper than he expected.
Because, if he was being honest with himself, he had never questioned it before.
The Legion had always been right. Their enemies had always been wrong. That was how it worked.
Right?
But now, hearing her say it...
Hearing the pain in her voice...
For the first time, a small part of him wondered if things weren't as simple as he always believed.
He stared at her, watching as she buried her face in her knees again, her body trembling with grief she had no idea how to handle.
Carefully, he held out a hand.
"I never exactly got your name," he said softly. "My name is Riku. Riku Hinoki."
Midori lifted her head slightly, her eyes studying him with wary exhaustion.
Hiroshi and Aiko, who had stayed silent up until now, looked at each other before following suit.
"I'm Hiroshi."
"Aiko."
She looked at them, as if debating whether to say anything at all.
Then, finally, she spoke.
"Midori." Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Midori Himura."
She paused, then added, "Could you please leave me alone?"
They all hesitated.
But after a moment, Riku nodded.
"Okay."
They turned and walked away, leaving Midori alone beneath the tree.
She sat there, staring at the ground, her mind an endless storm.
She had lost everything.
Her home. Her mother.
And now, she was trapped in the very place that had stolen them from her.
And no matter what, she would never forgive them for it.
Later that night, Riku couldn't sleep.
He lay on his futon, staring up at the wooden ceiling of the dormitory, Midori's words echoing over and over in his head.
"Who gives them the right?"
It wasn't like he had never seen death before. He had. He had trained under Ronin, been taught the art of combat, of survival, of discipline. The Legion of Shadow was his home, and he had always believed they were on the side of justice. That was what he had been told. That was what he had known.
But tonight, that belief didn't feel as solid as it once was.
Was it really justice?
If someone violated the Legion's laws, was death the answer?
Did rules, policies, orders—did they truly determine if someone deserved to die?
And if so...
Did that mean Midori's mother deserved it?
The thought twisted his stomach.
Frustrated, Riku sat up, rubbing his face. He knew he wasn't getting any sleep like this. With a sigh, he slipped on his shoes and quietly left the dorm, stepping out into the cool night air.
He already knew where he was going.
—
Ronin always sat on that hill.
It was just outside the compound, high enough that you could see the entire area beneath the moonlight. Every night, without fail, Ronin would go there to meditate. No one ever disturbed him.
Until now.
Riku approached slowly, seeing the familiar figure sitting cross-legged at the top, his back straight, his sword resting on his lap. Even in the dim light, Ronin looked like a statue—unshaken, unwavering.
But the moment Riku stepped closer, Ronin spoke without turning around.
"Something on your mind?"
Riku hesitated. Then, he sat down beside him, hugging his knees to his chest.
For a moment, he just sat there, staring at the stars, trying to find the right words. Then, finally, he asked,
"Why does the Legion get to decide who lives and who dies?"
Ronin's posture stiffened just slightly. That was enough for Riku to know that he hadn't expected the question.
There was a pause before Ronin finally turned to look at him, his heterochromia eyes studying him carefully.
"Why do you ask?"
Riku exhaled, shifting his gaze back to the sky.
"Because Midori asked the same thing."
Silence.
Ronin stared at him for a long moment before finally closing his eyes, tilting his head slightly as if contemplating his answer.
"I see."
He exhaled slowly, the wind brushing through his dark hair.
"Do you remember the first time you killed something, Riku?"
Riku blinked. It wasn't the answer he was expecting.
"What?"
"The first time you took a life. Do you remember it?"
Riku thought back.
Back to the night when they snuck out, trying to leave the compound, and Riku protected his brother by killing that wolf.
Riku swallowed.
"Yeah," he muttered.
Ronin opened his eyes, his gaze distant.
"The first time I killed someone, I was fourteen."
Riku turned to him in shock. He had never heard Ronin talk about himself like this before.
"It was an enemy," Ronin continued. "A real one. Someone who had done terrible things. And yet, I still remember the way he screamed before he died."
His hands rested on his sword, fingers tightening slightly.
"You see, Riku... killing someone evil doesn't make it right. It just makes it necessary."
Riku stayed silent, listening.
"But killing someone innocent?" Ronin's voice dropped lower. "That's different."
His golden eyes darkened.
"That kind of death... it stays with you. It doesn't matter how much time passes, how much you try to justify it. Their screams—" he exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "They never leave you."
Riku didn't dare interrupt.
"People like us... we are given orders. We follow them. We kill because we're told to. Because we believe it is for the greater good. But the truth is, once you take an innocent life, that blood never washes off your hands. It stains you. Permanently."
His jaw clenched.
"You carry their voices in your head. You see their faces when you close your eyes. You wonder if there was another way. If there was a choice you could have made to stop it. And you will never—" his voice tightened, "never stop hearing them scream."
Riku swallowed.
He could see it now.
That weight.
That ghost in Ronin's eyes.
This wasn't just a lesson. This was something personal.
Something Ronin had been carrying for a long time.
"So, no." Ronin's voice softened, but there was a deep sadness in it. "The Legion should not decide who lives and who dies. No one should."
He looked down at his hands.
"But they do."
Riku felt a lump in his throat.
"Then why do you follow them?" he asked quietly.
Ronin was silent for a long moment. Then, he exhaled.
"Because in a world where power is law, sometimes the only way to protect what matters... is to be the one holding the sword."
Riku clenched his fists.
"But that's not fair."
Ronin let out a dry, bitter chuckle.
"No. It's not."
They sat in silence for a while, the wind rustling the grass around them.
Finally, Ronin spoke again, his voice softer this time.
"You're still young, Riku. You will learn that this world is not black and white. There are no true heroes. No true villains. Just people... doing what they think is right."
He looked at Riku then, his gaze steady.
"But when the time comes... and you are forced to take a life... remember this."
Riku met his gaze.
"Make sure it is a monster."
A chill ran down Riku's spine.
"Because if you ever kill an innocent..."
Ronin's voice was quiet.
"You will never truly sleep again."
Riku didn't know what to say to that. So he just sat there, staring at the stars, his mind a storm of emotions. He didn't know what was right anymore. But one thing was certain. Midori's words had changed something in him.
_
The next day passed uneventfully, but there was a noticeable shift in the atmosphere. Midori kept to herself, avoiding conversation and keeping her distance from everyone.
She trained alone, ate alone, and didn't so much as glance in Riku or Hiroshi's direction. Ronin left her be, knowing she needed time.
Meanwhile, Riku couldn't shake the thoughts from the night before—the weight of their conversation still lingered in his mind. He could tell that something was bothering Ronin too, though the man hid it well.
_
Midori retreated to her room, her chest tight with the weight of everything she was feeling. She hated being here. Hated the endless questions from everyone asking if she was okay, their voices laced with pity, their eyes full of sympathy she didn't want. She wanted to be left alone.
She wanted to be with her mother—that was all she wanted. Her mother, who had been taken away from her, her world shattered in an instant.
The tears came and went, but nothing seemed to change the hollow ache inside her. She couldn't shake the image of her mother's face, or the way her world had shifted so violently from one moment to the next.
She couldn't stand it anymore. The isolation, the questions, the silence. It felt like everything around her was closing in, smothering her. Her mind raced as she paced the small room, the thought of leaving creeping into her mind. She had to get out. She had to get away.
So she packed a small bag—just the essentials, enough to make it through the night. Her hands shook as she grabbed the things she needed, and the tears that threatened to spill were quickly wiped away. She wouldn't let them see her like this.
_
Later that night, when everything was quiet and the compound slept, Midori snuck out of her room. The shadows welcomed her as she slipped through the hallways, her heart pounding in her chest. Every step she took was filled with a sense of finality.
She didn't know where she was going, but she didn't care. All that mattered was that she was leaving. She had to. She couldn't stay here anymore.
_
That night, Riku lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. Then, just as he began to drift off, the door slid open. Ronin stepped inside, his expression unreadable.
"Have either of you seen Midori?" Ronin's voice was sharp, urgent.
Riku and Hiroshi exchanged a glance before shaking their heads.
Ronin cursed under his breath. "Damn it.
"Where could she have gone?"
Riku's stomach dropped. His mind raced, and then, like a punch to the gut, it hit him—the memory of the night he and Hiroshi had once tried to run. He bolted upright, his pulse quickening.
"I think I know where she is!" he said, already moving before Ronin could respond.
His feet barely touched the ground as he sprinted through the compound, heading straight for the outer fence. His instincts screamed at him, pushing him forward. Without hesitation, he scaled the fence and dropped to the other side, his landing barely making a sound before he was off again, weaving through the trees.
The forest was different at night. The shadows stretched long, the air thick with an eerie stillness. Each breath came heavy as he scanned his surroundings, searching—hoping.
Then, he heard it.
A low, guttural growl.
Riku skidded to a stop, his breath catching in his throat. Just ahead, in a small clearing bathed in pale moonlight, a large wolf stood over Midori, its teeth bared, eyes glowing like embers in the dark.
She was curled up on the ground, her body trembling.
"Midori!" Riku shouted, his heart slamming against his ribs as he rushed forward.
The wolf's head snapped toward him, and before he could react, it lunged.
Pain tore through his arm as sharp claws raked across his skin. He hissed, stumbling back, but his grip tightened around his bokken. Sparks of lightning crackled at his fingertips, running up the wooden blade.
His eyes locked onto the wolf's. It growled, lowering itself into a stance, ready to strike again.
Riku exhaled sharply. "Come on, then."
The beast charged.
Riku moved faster.
In one swift motion, he sidestepped the attack and swung his bokken, releasing a pulse of electricity on impact. The wolf let out a yelp as the shock coursed through its body, sending it collapsing to the ground, twitching before it scrambled away into the darkness.
Riku didn't watch it leave. He was already moving toward Midori.
She was staring at him, wide-eyed, tears streaking her face.
"What the hell were you thinking?" he snapped, his voice shaking—though whether from fear or adrenaline, he wasn't sure. "You could've been killed! Is that what you want?"
Midori flinched. And then—she broke.
A sob ripped through her, her small frame trembling as she buried her face in her hands.
Riku's anger evaporated instantly. His chest ached at the sight of her, so small, so fragile. He hesitated for only a second before kneeling beside her, wrapping his arms around her.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to yell. I just—I was scared, okay? I don't want you to get hurt."
Midori clung to him, her sobs quieting little by little.
Riku tightened his hold. "I promise," he whispered, his voice softer now. "I'll never let anything happen to you. I'll never let you cry like this again."
She didn't say anything, but the way she gripped his shirt told him she believed him.
Riku carefully lifted her onto his back. She didn't protest—just rested her head against his shoulder as he carried her through the woods, back toward the compound.
By the time they reached her room, her breathing had steadied, her body relaxed in his arms. He gently laid her down, pulling the blankets over her.
He turned to leave, but her fingers weakly grasped his wrist.
"Stay," she whispered.
Riku hesitated only for a moment before nodding. He sat beside her, watching as her eyes fluttered shut.
He stayed until she was deep asleep.
Later, when he finally climbed into his own bed, exhaustion pulling him under, one thought echoed in his mind:
No matter what, he would protect her.