Memoirs of a Shinobi, by Meghin Shelton
Shinobi: A martial artist’s definition: One of the highest honors and professions, to say the least; even if some believe they are a myth.
My family’s definition: One of the worst, most dishonorable…things to do. That’s what I was told growing up…
I looked at the sword and USB I found while visiting earth, where my ancestor’s used to live. They were part of a Shinobi clan themselves…I couldn’t understand why my family hated the profession…hated our ancestors…hated me…
Using one of the computers on the ship, I saw that there were random documents on the unit, like pieces of a puzzle. After much pondering, everything came together like an epiphany.
Back when everyone lived on earth, they spoke of unification. My ancestors worked in factories, and they did not want to follow the norm. One event led to another, and there was an explosion that went off in Southern China. My ancestors caused it, even though they were Japanese. They didn’t know it at the time.
For the love of Shocho…my ancestors had caused the great explosion that left Asia in a barren wasteland…my family caused everyone to move to Gongen…my bloodline was responsible for the Battle of Phobos…oh God…my family was responsible for millions of lives lost….my family was solely responsible for this hellhole of why the human race wants to kill each other…He was right…it was all true...oh God…
My thoughts were very heavy now with the weight of two races, suffocating me. I couldn’t catch my breath – I was passing out. There to catch me was Mizu. I blacked out as my mind was rushed with memories from the distant past.
I grew up just like any other Gongen child. My family was close: I had a mother, a father, and an idiot of a brother. I was very shy and did not have many friends – the only friend I had was Mizu.
I’ll never forget the day we met. Some of the older kids had made fun of me on that day after school, just like every other day. Usually, I was able to hide from them. However, this day I had tripped and wasn’t able to get away. After they were done with their laughing and their rock throwing, they left me. I found a hidden place in an alley and cried.
I guess I didn’t hide well enough, because a boy found me. He saw I was crying and sat beside me. He didn’t say anything, but just sat and said nothing. I don’t know why, but I leaned my head on his shoulder, and just let loose.
We soon became best friends. Many of our days spent together was when I was hiding from the bullies, and no matter where I was, he always found me, shoulder ready. Even though I felt like I was being selfish, Mizu said he didn’t mind – he enjoyed being my “knight and shinning shoulder” as he would put it.
Years later, Gongen drafted everyone for battle. I was no longer a little ten year old girl, but a decent martial artist now at the age of sixteen. Mizu was no longer fifteen, but he hadn’t changed since the day we met; he still looked like he was seventeen. Just as I had grown, so had my feelings for Mizu – I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this guy.
We both made a promise that we would make it through the fight, and that we would meet again right after we came back home.
The Battle of Phobos…how should I describe it…?
The thunder of the first gun shot and war cry is enough to make you go deaf.
Next, you think you hear gun fire in your deafness, but it’s your own heart. It’s beating against the side of your head, pulsating with the beat of the war.
You see men running out on the field. Before they take ten steps, their bodies jerk back, the thread of life snapping as the ripples run through their being.
When you gain some of the hearing you once had, you hear the jingling of shells falling to the ground, heavy with the heat of battle. You hear bullets whiz by your head. You hear the war cry, for that’s all your fellow men have left to hold on to.
In the midst of figures strewn everywhere, you sometimes have to use your dead enemy as a shield, not knowing if you are going to end up like him.
Some days, you wish for battle, for sitting still and waiting for orders has gone to the point of nauseating. Others, you wish it would stop, because the image of a man’s skin burnt like a too roasted marshmallow keeps showing in your head.
Soldiers are no longer men but boys lost and scared and longing for the comfort of their mother’s embrace; grown me not knowing if they should cry or scream, trying to hold themselves together. The only way they can keep themselves together is to cry, for if they don’t, they will go mad.
The only comfort is the light of a distant moon, a neutral hope.
Their thoughts take them back at home – everyone’s beautiful face stained with sorrow and worry. Each tear makes a trail, scaring their check on their face and in their heart. Every thought of worry scrapes away at the layer of emotions, never quiet fully filled again. They hope the nightmares that haunt them each night will never become a reality.
You’re hoping they are looking at the same moon you are, praying that they never have to hear the throat-clenching screams of war.
On the last ship back to Gongen, I came back home, changed just like every other person that fought. I went to the restaurant Mizu and I said we would meet at. I went there every day for two weeks. He never showed. I comm’d him. Nothing. I couldn’t find him in any hospital, or anything from the military. I went to his house, only to find an abandoned building.
He must have died in the battle.
He’s…gone…
…Mizu…
He’s…
…Dead…
I went to the place where we first met when I was a little girl, that little piece of my universe. I sat down and cried. I’ve never dealt with a death in my family, or one so close. I must have been there for hours.
My family saw that I saw no more meaning to life. Hoping to help me, they arranged a marriage for me when I was eighteen.
Itachi Kaneko was a very wealthy man, and after our marriage, it would bring my family great honor. We were to be married within a year.
He didn’t love me. I could tell by the way he made it an obligation to waste time with me. I tried to love him. I looked beyond the cigarette smell of his clothing that irritated my allergies so I couldn’t breathe. I looked past the scar on the left side of his face; it was given to him in a bar fight, which was always brought up in every conversation if it could. I looked passed his pride, a characteristic of a person I can only handle in small amounts. I tried to see him a gentleman…I respected him and tried to love him, but I couldn’t – my emotions never left Phobos.
I kept lying to myself, saying that he was at least trying. After all, he said he would be a supporting husband, and I would have children. Honestly, that’s the only thing I had ever wanted after I finished school. All the girls that grew up around my hometown were already married and had one or two children of their own. And I was jealous of them – I wanted a little bundle of joy (or two) of my own. I wanted to be a mother.
About six months before the marriage, I was into town, buying new things to prepare for my new life. It started to rain on the way back to my house, so I took a few shortcuts.
In one of the alleys, a man was standing in my way. “Excuse me,” I said, trying to move past him.
“Whoa, where are you going Beautiful?” he said as he put an arm on the wall to stop me; the other arm went to caress my face.
I had to think fast. Moving away from his hands, I said, “I’m going home to my fiancé – he’s sick, and I’m kind of in a hurry.”
“Well, my friends and I would like to get to know you better,” he said, eyeing the men behind me.
They were surrounding me; I knew what they were thinking. One grabbed my wrist.
I punched the two men in front of me and ran. I didn’t get too far before one hit me in the back of the head. Hard.
I was in pain and felt like I was going to pass out; one jerked me off the ground. I couldn’t make out anything but shapes. Before anyone of the men had time to do anything, they were taking heavy hits from someone. In the commotion, I was knocked back to the ground, now very lightheaded.
When there were no more sounds of fists hitting skin, there was one man left standing. For a second, I could make out a face. “Mizu?”
He looked at me, and then I blacked out.
The next thing I know, I was back in my room, lying on my bed. Pain rushed to where I was pistol-whipped – I was thankful that an ice bag was on the small hill on the back of my head.
“Hey, thought you’d never wake up,” Mizu said as he entered my room.
Mizu filed me in on what all happened. To start, he had become a Shadow Warrior, following in his father’s footsteps. Somewhere along the road, he had unfortunately lost his personal comm, which is why he wasn’t able to return my comm’s later. After the fighting was all was said and done, he was on the first ship back to Gongen, and due to some sticky situation with the black market, he was unable to come out of his hiding for a while.
I then filled him in on what all happened with me, how I tried night and day to find him. He apologized profusely about not being able to be contacted. I told him, “It’s fine – the main thing is, you’re home,” I added with a little smile.
As my hand went to the back of my head in response to pain, Mizu spotted my left hand. I think some of the color left his face. “You’re getting married,” he said as a statement and not a question, a hint of disappointment staining the words.
This was my chance…and I didn’t have the guts to tell him how I felt about him. Both our emotions were fucked up, and I didn’t want to cause him (or me) any more stress. I explained that this was a way to bring honor to my family, and it would make me very happy.
He gave me the look that he knew I was not telling the truth. I never confirmed his hunch.
It was a month before the wedding. I’ll never forget that night.
I was home alone. My fiancé comm’d me, saying he would like to go over some last details about the wedding.
We met at a local restaurant. Itachi was already sitting there, waiting for me with a drink for each of us.
As he went over the schedule and details, and the minutes passed, I started to feel heavier and heavier, like a drug was put in my….
…oh…God…
I tried to ask if his drink had been drugged, but I couldn’t get a word out, too weak to even say something. Judging by his strong voice asking me if I was ok, I knew his drink wasn’t drugged.
He helped me out of the restaurant - I could no longer keep my eyes open.
Hearing the wind chimes by the front door, I knew we were at my house. I heard the familiar squeak of the door and the bamboo rug rustling. Then, as soon as the front door was shut, he threw me on the ground. I heard him undoing his belt buckle and the sound of a zipper unzipping.
I tried fighting him with all my might, but thanks to whatever he slipped in my drink…I was so weak, a dog could have beaten me.
After it was all said and done, he walked out the door, leaving me on the ground, ruined and scared shitless.
I must have been there a day. After the effects of the drug wore off and I could stand on steady ground, there was a knock at the door. “It’s Mizu,” a voice said from behind the door. I quickly let him in the house; he gave his usual welcome hug, and I collapsed right then and there. If Mizu wasn’t holding on tight, I would have fallen to the floor. “Kasumi?” he asked, trying to help me stand on my own. Seeing that that was not possible, he carried me to the couch and set me down. “Kasumi, what’s wrong?” Seeing that he could not get an answer, he just continued to hold me together; which was kind of difficult, because I was shaking so hard.
He started humming a tune, one my mother would sing to me when I had scrapped a knee, or some other injury that required the first aid kit. As the disinfectant spray burned my skin, she would hum a tune that reminded me of a lullaby, and I wouldn’t feel the pain anymore. Not long after Mizu started humming the tune, he drew up my knees on his lap, cradling me on the couch and stroking my head. I eventually feel asleep.
He was there when I woke up, having nodded off to sleep as well.
The next day, after getting enough courage to go outside my house, Mizu helped me go to the drug store, never leaving my side. Bringing the purchase back home, I went to the bathroom and used the pregnancy test.
It was positive.
As I sat speechless on the side of the tub, trying to process everything, I had an incoming comm. Unknown number. I hesitated: “H-hello?”
“Now, I’m going to be very clear,” he said. It was his voice. I started hyperventilating. “I’m only going to explain this once, so you better listen.” I regained a little bit of control, enough so I could hear what he was saying. “I know you’re pregnant. If you kill the kid, I will kill you. If you go to the police, military, or any other authority, I will kill you. How will I know? If you comm them, I will know because I got the ping from your comm. If you go to them in person, I will know. If you think I’m bluffing, here’s proof – I can see you, you’re in room right now. See that laser?” I watched the red dot, coming from the window, go across the floor to target my heart, which was now beating faster than when I was in battle. “That is the laser on my sniper rifle. When you have the kid, I will take him from you. I’m keeping a constant watch on you. Don’t fuck with me bitch.” The com ended. I lay on my side, not able to get enough air between my screams and my hyperventilation.
What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t tell my parents I was pregnant. It was a week and a half before the wedding. I didn’t have to tell them – they were calling me from the kitchen.
They didn’t look me in the eye when I entered. Dad broke the silence: “The wedding is off. Your fiancé just told us he wouldn’t marry you because you were pregnant.”
My mother’s broken voice: “Kasumi, how could you?”
My father’s voice again like a hard smack to the back of the head: “Kasumi, you dishonor us and the family name.”
I ran out of the house crying. What was I to tell them? I couldn’t tell them the truth. I needed to be alive to keep this baby alive. By keeping this child, my family would see it as being as dishonorable as becoming a shinobi…and I could not let my child be raised by that bastard. Out of this whole clusterfuck, at least one miracle happened.
Catching my breath, I stopped running. Mizu caught up with me, out of breath as well. Finding a quiet spot, I finally told him what all happened, reliving each horrible moment.
He looked like he was going to punch a hole through a brick wall. I calmed him down, saying that I didn’t know what else to do but live on my own. He offered for me to live with him profusely, but I told him I couldn’t risk Itachi being suspicious of me telling anyone.
After sneaking in my room at night and getting my possessions, I got a cheap apartment; I left a note on my old room’s window for Itachi to know. I didn’t want him to follow me, but I sure as hell didn’t want to piss him off.
Those months before the due date were the least to say stressful. I had become a hermit, caged by my room. At random, that laser would make its way back in my room like it did at my old house; he was making sure I knew he was still there. I was a rice grain standing on the edge of a knife.
On Friday, September 13th, 2391, I went to the emergency room.
Due to complications, I had to go to emergency C-section. I passed out by the time it was over.
The next day, I woke up, a nurse checking the equipment around me. I asked her where my child was.
“Oh, your husband’s…”
My baby…he took my baby.
“…downstairs in the…”
Before she finished the sentence, I was out of the room, heading down the stairs.
As I frantically looked for that bastard, my comm rang. Unknown number. He started to speak before I could say “hello”:
“If you follow me, I won’t kill you or the kid…but Shocho will, See, I recently obtained some information that proves your family was responsible for starting this hellhole of the war between Gongen and Earth, and ultimately the death of millions. So if I even hear one word that you might be in the same town I am, I will turn the information in to Shocho, who will kill you, your family, and my kid. And if Shocho doesn’t do anything about it, I will take matters into my own hands. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?”
Click.
I was utterly and pathetically alone.
Realizing I looked like an idiot, I returned to my room, lying to the nurse that everything was fine.
I never knew if it was a boy or a girl. For the baby’s safety, I did not ask the nurse what gender it was; I just prayed it had a loving mother more than I could ever be.
Those eyes still haunt me in my nightmares – both sets. First set are His, eyeing me, each glance bringing back the memories of that night, each painful moment. The second set is my baby’s, the shade of gray close to mine. I hear a voice ask, “Mommy, don’t you love me? Why didn’t you keep me?” While second set of eyes disappear, the first set grow more and more, seeing me no matter where I hide.
I didn’t marry the man that I was engaged to. I had had a child out of wedlock. I was already training to be a shinobi…The only way I could get back my family’s honor was to commit seppuku. Since I needed someone to help me…finish the job, I asked Mizu.
In my apartment, dressed in the appropriate robes, I was sitting on the floor, Mizu across from me. I took the sword in front of me out of its sheath, ready to give back my family the honor I could never give them.
Right before the sword pierced my robes, Mizu said, “Stop!” grabbing the hilt of the sword and pulling it back towards him.
“Mizu, we’ve been over this a dozen times – I need to do this to get back my family’s honor.”
His eyes looked straight into mine. “Kasumi, I love you. I love everything about you. You’re both beautiful on the inside and the outside; I haven’t found that in anyone else. I love how you can sneak away, and how I am the only one who can find you. I love your eyes – they are the color of fog and smoke; they complement your fiery, passionate heart…”
As he began his list, I was having a mental breakdown, gasping for air.
Not thirty seconds after that, the door came bursting off the hinges, and the police and a man in a fine suit were standing in the room.
The man approached me. “Hello there Kasumi. Don’t worry; we’re not going to hurt you. We just want to help.”
As hands were all around me, I tried to fight them. Something pricked my arm, and everything went black. Dammit.
I woke up in a chair with handcuffs, Mizu the same on my left. We were sitting in front of the well-dressed man, sitting in a chair the same color of white as the room.
“Kasumi, why did you try to fight us? We only want what’s best for you.”
“Bastard,” Mizu said. The doctor just kept looking at me – I glared back at him.
“Kasumi, do you want to tell me why you were trying to commit seppuku?”
“Does it matter? I would have done it if you hadn’t showed up. The only reason I stopped before you invaded my apartment was because Mizu stopped me.”
Nothing, not even all that I had been through, prepared me from these words: “Who’s Mizu?”
I looked at Mizu, who was trying to assure me they were telling me lies. A computer was brought in, showing footage of the doctor asking me the questions he had said only moments before.
Fake. None of it was real. The alley where the men tried to rape me and Mizu had saved me, that alley had been boarded up years before. The call to the psychiatric ward, I made it. It was all fake.
When you’re labeled with having something wrong with you, specifically “mentally sick”, people treat you differently. They look at you and talk at you like you’re holding a grenade with a pulled pin, for they are afraid of you. It’s not the same thing I saw in battle. Yes, they were afraid of saying the wrong thing, giving the wrong look, making the wrong move. But when you’ve got a katana to someone’s throat, they look at you with the upmost respect, as if you’re their creator. When you’re “not normal”, people look down on you with pity, like you’re no more than a three-legged dog. Fuckers. I hate fucking pity and the whole fucking human race.
After being in a mental hospital six months and giving me a bottle of pills, they allowed me to go home; they could monitor me with the chip they placed in my arm.
That night I was released from the cuckoo house, I cut the chip out of my arm. I dressed myself in all black, including my face, and ran. I ran so hard, the only reason I stopped was because my feet were bleeding.
That night, Kasumi Tsamu died. In order to honor Mizu, who was now dead in my opinion, I named myself Shadow. I dressed in black ninja gear, hoping one day I would be one of the Shinobi. It is true that the Shinobi do not dress like I had chosen to. However, I was in mourning. I was mourning the loss of Kasumi, of Mizu, of the baby. I am still scared shitless of my ex-fiancé.
I did get my wish – I was contacted by a Shinobi clan, and they talked to the major general of Gongen, telling of my promotion to the clan. That is why the general constantly knows where I am; to make sure my job doesn’t get me or Gongen in trouble. That’s also why I know the Shinobi clan is real.
Soon, I met Michael and Doiztel; then Kalingkata, Hotaru, and the rest of the gang. They were the first thing I could call family. They gave me Christmas presents. I had never received a present before. The only present I could give was my dark past.
When you’ve seen as much fucked-up shit as I have, you learn to harden your heart. With each layer of barrier, you lose a leaf, like on a tree; until there are no more. No more hope, no more joy, no more sorrow. As a shinobi, you feel nothing. No threads attached to anything, for if they are, you will go mad with each broken one.
I wish I felt nothing, curled up in Mizu’s arms like broken glass, pieces awkwardly shaped to resemble something one might dare to call human. I couldn’t cover up Kasumi anymore; she took over that moment, tearing through Shadow’s mask…gasping for air with every tear, helpless and scared shitless. Mizu just held me and stroked my head, and hummed the tune, just as he did every time he had come to comfort me. No one can understand but he and I…even if he wasn’t real, the comfort was real enough.
After I calmed down, I decided to write down everything that happened. Muppets, if you’re reading this, this part is addressed to you: I know I’ve told you all my history, but I was not all that prepared when I gave it Christmas (I named Mizu “Tony”, because, to be honest, I wasn’t ready to say his name again until now). Also, I am not very good at speaking on the spot like that; again, I cannot stress enough I’m not looking for pity. I can’t stand it when someone looks down on me like that.
I know at times I must be difficult to deal with, and I’m glad you all have been able to tolerate me. I’m honored to have met you all; and even more honored to call you friends and family. Through all the moments we’ve laughed and cried in pain, killed people and saved them, our little victories and big flops, I will cherish every one of them. I could not be where I’ve been today if I had not met you all.
I’ve been like a mother to some of you, watching your every step to make sure you’re not going to get in trouble; others, I’ve protected you like a body guard; others, I’ve been like a sister. I just want to let you all know, I love you.
Your fellow Muppet,
Shadow
My family’s definition: One of the worst, most dishonorable…things to do. That’s what I was told growing up…
I looked at the sword and USB I found while visiting earth, where my ancestor’s used to live. They were part of a Shinobi clan themselves…I couldn’t understand why my family hated the profession…hated our ancestors…hated me…
Using one of the computers on the ship, I saw that there were random documents on the unit, like pieces of a puzzle. After much pondering, everything came together like an epiphany.
Back when everyone lived on earth, they spoke of unification. My ancestors worked in factories, and they did not want to follow the norm. One event led to another, and there was an explosion that went off in Southern China. My ancestors caused it, even though they were Japanese. They didn’t know it at the time.
For the love of Shocho…my ancestors had caused the great explosion that left Asia in a barren wasteland…my family caused everyone to move to Gongen…my bloodline was responsible for the Battle of Phobos…oh God…my family was responsible for millions of lives lost….my family was solely responsible for this hellhole of why the human race wants to kill each other…He was right…it was all true...oh God…
My thoughts were very heavy now with the weight of two races, suffocating me. I couldn’t catch my breath – I was passing out. There to catch me was Mizu. I blacked out as my mind was rushed with memories from the distant past.
I grew up just like any other Gongen child. My family was close: I had a mother, a father, and an idiot of a brother. I was very shy and did not have many friends – the only friend I had was Mizu.
I’ll never forget the day we met. Some of the older kids had made fun of me on that day after school, just like every other day. Usually, I was able to hide from them. However, this day I had tripped and wasn’t able to get away. After they were done with their laughing and their rock throwing, they left me. I found a hidden place in an alley and cried.
I guess I didn’t hide well enough, because a boy found me. He saw I was crying and sat beside me. He didn’t say anything, but just sat and said nothing. I don’t know why, but I leaned my head on his shoulder, and just let loose.
We soon became best friends. Many of our days spent together was when I was hiding from the bullies, and no matter where I was, he always found me, shoulder ready. Even though I felt like I was being selfish, Mizu said he didn’t mind – he enjoyed being my “knight and shinning shoulder” as he would put it.
Years later, Gongen drafted everyone for battle. I was no longer a little ten year old girl, but a decent martial artist now at the age of sixteen. Mizu was no longer fifteen, but he hadn’t changed since the day we met; he still looked like he was seventeen. Just as I had grown, so had my feelings for Mizu – I didn’t want to admit it at the time, but I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this guy.
We both made a promise that we would make it through the fight, and that we would meet again right after we came back home.
The Battle of Phobos…how should I describe it…?
The thunder of the first gun shot and war cry is enough to make you go deaf.
Next, you think you hear gun fire in your deafness, but it’s your own heart. It’s beating against the side of your head, pulsating with the beat of the war.
You see men running out on the field. Before they take ten steps, their bodies jerk back, the thread of life snapping as the ripples run through their being.
When you gain some of the hearing you once had, you hear the jingling of shells falling to the ground, heavy with the heat of battle. You hear bullets whiz by your head. You hear the war cry, for that’s all your fellow men have left to hold on to.
In the midst of figures strewn everywhere, you sometimes have to use your dead enemy as a shield, not knowing if you are going to end up like him.
Some days, you wish for battle, for sitting still and waiting for orders has gone to the point of nauseating. Others, you wish it would stop, because the image of a man’s skin burnt like a too roasted marshmallow keeps showing in your head.
Soldiers are no longer men but boys lost and scared and longing for the comfort of their mother’s embrace; grown me not knowing if they should cry or scream, trying to hold themselves together. The only way they can keep themselves together is to cry, for if they don’t, they will go mad.
The only comfort is the light of a distant moon, a neutral hope.
Their thoughts take them back at home – everyone’s beautiful face stained with sorrow and worry. Each tear makes a trail, scaring their check on their face and in their heart. Every thought of worry scrapes away at the layer of emotions, never quiet fully filled again. They hope the nightmares that haunt them each night will never become a reality.
You’re hoping they are looking at the same moon you are, praying that they never have to hear the throat-clenching screams of war.
On the last ship back to Gongen, I came back home, changed just like every other person that fought. I went to the restaurant Mizu and I said we would meet at. I went there every day for two weeks. He never showed. I comm’d him. Nothing. I couldn’t find him in any hospital, or anything from the military. I went to his house, only to find an abandoned building.
He must have died in the battle.
He’s…gone…
…Mizu…
He’s…
…Dead…
I went to the place where we first met when I was a little girl, that little piece of my universe. I sat down and cried. I’ve never dealt with a death in my family, or one so close. I must have been there for hours.
My family saw that I saw no more meaning to life. Hoping to help me, they arranged a marriage for me when I was eighteen.
Itachi Kaneko was a very wealthy man, and after our marriage, it would bring my family great honor. We were to be married within a year.
He didn’t love me. I could tell by the way he made it an obligation to waste time with me. I tried to love him. I looked beyond the cigarette smell of his clothing that irritated my allergies so I couldn’t breathe. I looked past the scar on the left side of his face; it was given to him in a bar fight, which was always brought up in every conversation if it could. I looked passed his pride, a characteristic of a person I can only handle in small amounts. I tried to see him a gentleman…I respected him and tried to love him, but I couldn’t – my emotions never left Phobos.
I kept lying to myself, saying that he was at least trying. After all, he said he would be a supporting husband, and I would have children. Honestly, that’s the only thing I had ever wanted after I finished school. All the girls that grew up around my hometown were already married and had one or two children of their own. And I was jealous of them – I wanted a little bundle of joy (or two) of my own. I wanted to be a mother.
About six months before the marriage, I was into town, buying new things to prepare for my new life. It started to rain on the way back to my house, so I took a few shortcuts.
In one of the alleys, a man was standing in my way. “Excuse me,” I said, trying to move past him.
“Whoa, where are you going Beautiful?” he said as he put an arm on the wall to stop me; the other arm went to caress my face.
I had to think fast. Moving away from his hands, I said, “I’m going home to my fiancé – he’s sick, and I’m kind of in a hurry.”
“Well, my friends and I would like to get to know you better,” he said, eyeing the men behind me.
They were surrounding me; I knew what they were thinking. One grabbed my wrist.
I punched the two men in front of me and ran. I didn’t get too far before one hit me in the back of the head. Hard.
I was in pain and felt like I was going to pass out; one jerked me off the ground. I couldn’t make out anything but shapes. Before anyone of the men had time to do anything, they were taking heavy hits from someone. In the commotion, I was knocked back to the ground, now very lightheaded.
When there were no more sounds of fists hitting skin, there was one man left standing. For a second, I could make out a face. “Mizu?”
He looked at me, and then I blacked out.
The next thing I know, I was back in my room, lying on my bed. Pain rushed to where I was pistol-whipped – I was thankful that an ice bag was on the small hill on the back of my head.
“Hey, thought you’d never wake up,” Mizu said as he entered my room.
Mizu filed me in on what all happened. To start, he had become a Shadow Warrior, following in his father’s footsteps. Somewhere along the road, he had unfortunately lost his personal comm, which is why he wasn’t able to return my comm’s later. After the fighting was all was said and done, he was on the first ship back to Gongen, and due to some sticky situation with the black market, he was unable to come out of his hiding for a while.
I then filled him in on what all happened with me, how I tried night and day to find him. He apologized profusely about not being able to be contacted. I told him, “It’s fine – the main thing is, you’re home,” I added with a little smile.
As my hand went to the back of my head in response to pain, Mizu spotted my left hand. I think some of the color left his face. “You’re getting married,” he said as a statement and not a question, a hint of disappointment staining the words.
This was my chance…and I didn’t have the guts to tell him how I felt about him. Both our emotions were fucked up, and I didn’t want to cause him (or me) any more stress. I explained that this was a way to bring honor to my family, and it would make me very happy.
He gave me the look that he knew I was not telling the truth. I never confirmed his hunch.
It was a month before the wedding. I’ll never forget that night.
I was home alone. My fiancé comm’d me, saying he would like to go over some last details about the wedding.
We met at a local restaurant. Itachi was already sitting there, waiting for me with a drink for each of us.
As he went over the schedule and details, and the minutes passed, I started to feel heavier and heavier, like a drug was put in my….
…oh…God…
I tried to ask if his drink had been drugged, but I couldn’t get a word out, too weak to even say something. Judging by his strong voice asking me if I was ok, I knew his drink wasn’t drugged.
He helped me out of the restaurant - I could no longer keep my eyes open.
Hearing the wind chimes by the front door, I knew we were at my house. I heard the familiar squeak of the door and the bamboo rug rustling. Then, as soon as the front door was shut, he threw me on the ground. I heard him undoing his belt buckle and the sound of a zipper unzipping.
I tried fighting him with all my might, but thanks to whatever he slipped in my drink…I was so weak, a dog could have beaten me.
After it was all said and done, he walked out the door, leaving me on the ground, ruined and scared shitless.
I must have been there a day. After the effects of the drug wore off and I could stand on steady ground, there was a knock at the door. “It’s Mizu,” a voice said from behind the door. I quickly let him in the house; he gave his usual welcome hug, and I collapsed right then and there. If Mizu wasn’t holding on tight, I would have fallen to the floor. “Kasumi?” he asked, trying to help me stand on my own. Seeing that that was not possible, he carried me to the couch and set me down. “Kasumi, what’s wrong?” Seeing that he could not get an answer, he just continued to hold me together; which was kind of difficult, because I was shaking so hard.
He started humming a tune, one my mother would sing to me when I had scrapped a knee, or some other injury that required the first aid kit. As the disinfectant spray burned my skin, she would hum a tune that reminded me of a lullaby, and I wouldn’t feel the pain anymore. Not long after Mizu started humming the tune, he drew up my knees on his lap, cradling me on the couch and stroking my head. I eventually feel asleep.
He was there when I woke up, having nodded off to sleep as well.
The next day, after getting enough courage to go outside my house, Mizu helped me go to the drug store, never leaving my side. Bringing the purchase back home, I went to the bathroom and used the pregnancy test.
It was positive.
As I sat speechless on the side of the tub, trying to process everything, I had an incoming comm. Unknown number. I hesitated: “H-hello?”
“Now, I’m going to be very clear,” he said. It was his voice. I started hyperventilating. “I’m only going to explain this once, so you better listen.” I regained a little bit of control, enough so I could hear what he was saying. “I know you’re pregnant. If you kill the kid, I will kill you. If you go to the police, military, or any other authority, I will kill you. How will I know? If you comm them, I will know because I got the ping from your comm. If you go to them in person, I will know. If you think I’m bluffing, here’s proof – I can see you, you’re in room right now. See that laser?” I watched the red dot, coming from the window, go across the floor to target my heart, which was now beating faster than when I was in battle. “That is the laser on my sniper rifle. When you have the kid, I will take him from you. I’m keeping a constant watch on you. Don’t fuck with me bitch.” The com ended. I lay on my side, not able to get enough air between my screams and my hyperventilation.
What was I supposed to do? I couldn’t tell my parents I was pregnant. It was a week and a half before the wedding. I didn’t have to tell them – they were calling me from the kitchen.
They didn’t look me in the eye when I entered. Dad broke the silence: “The wedding is off. Your fiancé just told us he wouldn’t marry you because you were pregnant.”
My mother’s broken voice: “Kasumi, how could you?”
My father’s voice again like a hard smack to the back of the head: “Kasumi, you dishonor us and the family name.”
I ran out of the house crying. What was I to tell them? I couldn’t tell them the truth. I needed to be alive to keep this baby alive. By keeping this child, my family would see it as being as dishonorable as becoming a shinobi…and I could not let my child be raised by that bastard. Out of this whole clusterfuck, at least one miracle happened.
Catching my breath, I stopped running. Mizu caught up with me, out of breath as well. Finding a quiet spot, I finally told him what all happened, reliving each horrible moment.
He looked like he was going to punch a hole through a brick wall. I calmed him down, saying that I didn’t know what else to do but live on my own. He offered for me to live with him profusely, but I told him I couldn’t risk Itachi being suspicious of me telling anyone.
After sneaking in my room at night and getting my possessions, I got a cheap apartment; I left a note on my old room’s window for Itachi to know. I didn’t want him to follow me, but I sure as hell didn’t want to piss him off.
Those months before the due date were the least to say stressful. I had become a hermit, caged by my room. At random, that laser would make its way back in my room like it did at my old house; he was making sure I knew he was still there. I was a rice grain standing on the edge of a knife.
On Friday, September 13th, 2391, I went to the emergency room.
Due to complications, I had to go to emergency C-section. I passed out by the time it was over.
The next day, I woke up, a nurse checking the equipment around me. I asked her where my child was.
“Oh, your husband’s…”
My baby…he took my baby.
“…downstairs in the…”
Before she finished the sentence, I was out of the room, heading down the stairs.
As I frantically looked for that bastard, my comm rang. Unknown number. He started to speak before I could say “hello”:
“If you follow me, I won’t kill you or the kid…but Shocho will, See, I recently obtained some information that proves your family was responsible for starting this hellhole of the war between Gongen and Earth, and ultimately the death of millions. So if I even hear one word that you might be in the same town I am, I will turn the information in to Shocho, who will kill you, your family, and my kid. And if Shocho doesn’t do anything about it, I will take matters into my own hands. You don’t want to be responsible for that, do you?”
Click.
I was utterly and pathetically alone.
Realizing I looked like an idiot, I returned to my room, lying to the nurse that everything was fine.
I never knew if it was a boy or a girl. For the baby’s safety, I did not ask the nurse what gender it was; I just prayed it had a loving mother more than I could ever be.
Those eyes still haunt me in my nightmares – both sets. First set are His, eyeing me, each glance bringing back the memories of that night, each painful moment. The second set is my baby’s, the shade of gray close to mine. I hear a voice ask, “Mommy, don’t you love me? Why didn’t you keep me?” While second set of eyes disappear, the first set grow more and more, seeing me no matter where I hide.
I didn’t marry the man that I was engaged to. I had had a child out of wedlock. I was already training to be a shinobi…The only way I could get back my family’s honor was to commit seppuku. Since I needed someone to help me…finish the job, I asked Mizu.
In my apartment, dressed in the appropriate robes, I was sitting on the floor, Mizu across from me. I took the sword in front of me out of its sheath, ready to give back my family the honor I could never give them.
Right before the sword pierced my robes, Mizu said, “Stop!” grabbing the hilt of the sword and pulling it back towards him.
“Mizu, we’ve been over this a dozen times – I need to do this to get back my family’s honor.”
His eyes looked straight into mine. “Kasumi, I love you. I love everything about you. You’re both beautiful on the inside and the outside; I haven’t found that in anyone else. I love how you can sneak away, and how I am the only one who can find you. I love your eyes – they are the color of fog and smoke; they complement your fiery, passionate heart…”
As he began his list, I was having a mental breakdown, gasping for air.
Not thirty seconds after that, the door came bursting off the hinges, and the police and a man in a fine suit were standing in the room.
The man approached me. “Hello there Kasumi. Don’t worry; we’re not going to hurt you. We just want to help.”
As hands were all around me, I tried to fight them. Something pricked my arm, and everything went black. Dammit.
I woke up in a chair with handcuffs, Mizu the same on my left. We were sitting in front of the well-dressed man, sitting in a chair the same color of white as the room.
“Kasumi, why did you try to fight us? We only want what’s best for you.”
“Bastard,” Mizu said. The doctor just kept looking at me – I glared back at him.
“Kasumi, do you want to tell me why you were trying to commit seppuku?”
“Does it matter? I would have done it if you hadn’t showed up. The only reason I stopped before you invaded my apartment was because Mizu stopped me.”
Nothing, not even all that I had been through, prepared me from these words: “Who’s Mizu?”
I looked at Mizu, who was trying to assure me they were telling me lies. A computer was brought in, showing footage of the doctor asking me the questions he had said only moments before.
Fake. None of it was real. The alley where the men tried to rape me and Mizu had saved me, that alley had been boarded up years before. The call to the psychiatric ward, I made it. It was all fake.
When you’re labeled with having something wrong with you, specifically “mentally sick”, people treat you differently. They look at you and talk at you like you’re holding a grenade with a pulled pin, for they are afraid of you. It’s not the same thing I saw in battle. Yes, they were afraid of saying the wrong thing, giving the wrong look, making the wrong move. But when you’ve got a katana to someone’s throat, they look at you with the upmost respect, as if you’re their creator. When you’re “not normal”, people look down on you with pity, like you’re no more than a three-legged dog. Fuckers. I hate fucking pity and the whole fucking human race.
After being in a mental hospital six months and giving me a bottle of pills, they allowed me to go home; they could monitor me with the chip they placed in my arm.
That night I was released from the cuckoo house, I cut the chip out of my arm. I dressed myself in all black, including my face, and ran. I ran so hard, the only reason I stopped was because my feet were bleeding.
That night, Kasumi Tsamu died. In order to honor Mizu, who was now dead in my opinion, I named myself Shadow. I dressed in black ninja gear, hoping one day I would be one of the Shinobi. It is true that the Shinobi do not dress like I had chosen to. However, I was in mourning. I was mourning the loss of Kasumi, of Mizu, of the baby. I am still scared shitless of my ex-fiancé.
I did get my wish – I was contacted by a Shinobi clan, and they talked to the major general of Gongen, telling of my promotion to the clan. That is why the general constantly knows where I am; to make sure my job doesn’t get me or Gongen in trouble. That’s also why I know the Shinobi clan is real.
Soon, I met Michael and Doiztel; then Kalingkata, Hotaru, and the rest of the gang. They were the first thing I could call family. They gave me Christmas presents. I had never received a present before. The only present I could give was my dark past.
When you’ve seen as much fucked-up shit as I have, you learn to harden your heart. With each layer of barrier, you lose a leaf, like on a tree; until there are no more. No more hope, no more joy, no more sorrow. As a shinobi, you feel nothing. No threads attached to anything, for if they are, you will go mad with each broken one.
I wish I felt nothing, curled up in Mizu’s arms like broken glass, pieces awkwardly shaped to resemble something one might dare to call human. I couldn’t cover up Kasumi anymore; she took over that moment, tearing through Shadow’s mask…gasping for air with every tear, helpless and scared shitless. Mizu just held me and stroked my head, and hummed the tune, just as he did every time he had come to comfort me. No one can understand but he and I…even if he wasn’t real, the comfort was real enough.
After I calmed down, I decided to write down everything that happened. Muppets, if you’re reading this, this part is addressed to you: I know I’ve told you all my history, but I was not all that prepared when I gave it Christmas (I named Mizu “Tony”, because, to be honest, I wasn’t ready to say his name again until now). Also, I am not very good at speaking on the spot like that; again, I cannot stress enough I’m not looking for pity. I can’t stand it when someone looks down on me like that.
I know at times I must be difficult to deal with, and I’m glad you all have been able to tolerate me. I’m honored to have met you all; and even more honored to call you friends and family. Through all the moments we’ve laughed and cried in pain, killed people and saved them, our little victories and big flops, I will cherish every one of them. I could not be where I’ve been today if I had not met you all.
I’ve been like a mother to some of you, watching your every step to make sure you’re not going to get in trouble; others, I’ve protected you like a body guard; others, I’ve been like a sister. I just want to let you all know, I love you.
Your fellow Muppet,
Shadow