CODE: ASSASSIN'S REQUIEM

Crimson Eyes, Shattered Innocence

The sky bled ash and fire as the rain came down like needles of sorrow. Smoke curled from the rooftops of the Notajime estate, and the clang of steel drowned out the thunder. A child’s breath, shallow and ragged, broke through the chaos. Taiki Notajime — just nine, barefoot, his hands scraped and trembling — stumbled through the dirt path behind the main hall. He was too small to understand the war erupting around him. But old enough to understand death.

His father, Kento Notajime — the last man to wield the legendary Dragon Blades — was still in the courtyard. Still fighting. Still protecting. And still doomed.

“Run, Taiki!” his voice tore through the air like a whip. “You must live!”

Taiki didn’t want to run. He didn’t want to leave. But the fear in his father’s voice pinned him harder than any enemy blade. He hesitated for just a moment — and that moment shattered his world.

A shadow flickered behind his father. No sound. Just movement. A blur of silent death.

Steel gleamed, blood sprayed. And the man who was a legend — a protector, a father — dropped to his knees. His eyes met Taiki’s in that final second. Not with fear. Not with regret. But peace.

Then his head fell forward.

Taiki screamed. He screamed with everything his young lungs could carry. But the scream didn’t save anyone. It didn’t stop the figure who now turned toward him — a ninja in black, face masked, holding a bloodstained blade dripping with legacy.

But before the blade could swing again, another figure burst through the smoke. A taller man. Eyes sharp as frost. A blur of motion.

The ninja’s head rolled before it even hit the ground.

“Too slow,” muttered the new arrival. He turned, his crimson-lined cloak billowing, and locked eyes with Taiki. “You’re coming with me.”

Taiki backed away, stumbling. “Who… who are you?”

“I’m your uncle,” the man replied. “Your father’s brother. And I’ve just saved your life.”

Taiki’s vision blurred. Tears and smoke fused into each other. His knees buckled. The world faded.

That night, the Notajime clan was erased from every scroll in the Hidden Archives. All but one name remained: Taiki.

---

When Taiki awoke, it wasn’t to the scent of death, but of incense and steel. He lay in a temple built like a fortress — hidden within a mountain carved by shadows. His uncle, Raiden Notajime, now sat before him, sharpening a blade without looking up.

“You watched your father die,” Raiden said without flinching. “That will haunt you forever. Use it.”

Taiki didn’t reply. He stared at his blood-stained palms.

“You were weak,” Raiden continued. “But weakness is temporary. Pain is a forge. And I will make you a weapon.”

Thus began the first day of the boy's transformation.

---

Years passed. Not in silence — but in agony, in bruises, in broken bones and sharpened instinct. Raiden trained Taiki with no mercy. Every morning was a battle. Every night, a meditation on survival. The boy was stripped of fear, of hesitation, of innocence. In time, he grew into a specter. His hands moved faster than the wind. His steps made no sound.

But even a weapon needs direction. A reason to kill.

Her name was Amira Katashade.

She was the deadliest assassin of their generation. Equal parts grace and fury, her codename was Ratel — after the animal that feared nothing. She moved like a dancer and struck like lightning. And when she sparred with Taiki for the first time, he lost.

Not just the match — but something deeper.

They became rivals. Then partners. Then something they couldn’t name.

Raiden warned him. “Love is not for us. Assassins don’t get happy endings.”

But hearts aren’t trained like blades.

---

The elders saw what was growing between the two. And it angered them. For Taiki was not meant to love — he was meant to lead. To surpass all. Including Amira. Including Raiden.

So they created something forbidden.

Using Taiki’s blood, they forged a clone. A mirror. A twin.

Taiji Notajime.

He was born of flesh and envy, raised in the shadows of both Taiki and Amira. Taught that he was the perfect successor. The true blade. But his heart was flawed. Where Taiki had grief and fire, Taiji had emptiness. He watched Taiki grow closer to Amira, and it festered.

In time, envy curdled into betrayal.

---

The massacre came on a moonless night.

The hidden fortress was breached. Ninjas — black-cloaked and merciless — descended with precision only one of their own could’ve given them.

Taiji had sold them out.

The walls ran red with the blood of assassins.

Raiden fell. So did dozens of warriors. And in the final confrontation, Taiki — bloodied and burning — watched as Taiji drove a blade through Amira’s back.

“No…” Taiki roared, his twin blades clenched in his fists. The Scourge Sun and Crescent Moon glowed with an ancient fury. The dragon spirits within them awakened.

But it was too late.

Amira collapsed into his arms, her breath shallow, her skin cold.

With her last breath, she cupped his face. “Don’t become the monster…”

And then her eyes closed.

Something inside Taiki broke. The demon that had long slumbered in him — the Spider — crawled from the pit of his soul. Rage consumed him. He howled into the night.

When dawn broke, the fortress was ash.

And Taiki was gone.

---

He became a ghost. A myth. A rogue assassin hunted by every nation. His name was spoken with fear. Some said he’d lost his mind. Others, that he’d become death itself.

But no one knew the truth.

He was still hunting.

Until one day…

A rumor spread.

A girl — scarred, burned, but alive — had been seen crossing the Shadow Valley.

With silver eyes.

Amira’s eyes.

And so the hunt began again.

Not for vengeance.

But for redemption.

And for love.

---