Shadows Know No Brother

The cold air bit into Taiki’s skin as he knelt on a bloodstained rooftop, one hand gripping the scorched edge of his crescent moon blade. The stars above flickered faintly behind passing clouds, but to Taiki, they may as well have been watching in silence, like mournful witnesses to everything he had become.

The mission had been a trap.

Assassins rarely miscalculated — that was the pride of the Notajime doctrine. But tonight, Taiki had sensed something off. The scroll wasn’t real. The target had no name. And the building had been too quiet.

They were surrounded.

A dozen assassins, mostly apprentices, had fallen before Taiki had even drawn both blades. His instincts saved him, but the chaos was manufactured. His senses told him it wasn’t just an ambush… it was a message.

Someone inside the syndicate had led them into that death pit.

And whoever it was… knew Taiki would survive.

His jaw clenched.

From the rooftops beyond, Amira landed beside him like a whisper of wind, her presence grounding him. Her armor shimmered faintly — dark grey with streaks of obsidian — her mask pulled halfway down to reveal a faint cut on her lip and her storm-hardened eyes.

“You felt it too,” she said.

He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze scanned the alley below, where their last target had bled out moments ago.

“They didn’t want the scroll,” Taiki said finally. “They wanted us dead. But not you. Me.”

Amira narrowed her eyes. “You think this was… internal?”

“I think it was him.”

She stiffened, as if the wind had slapped her. “Taiji?”

Taiki rose, swords in hand, as he turned toward the edge of the rooftop.

“I don’t want to believe it either,” he whispered. “But he’s been… unbalanced. He’s hiding something.”

Amira stepped in front of him.

“You’re not thinking clearly, Taiki. He’s your brother—”

“No,” Taiki cut her off, voice sharp. “He’s a shadow made in my image. I never asked for him to be born.”

Silence stretched between them like a blade drawn halfway.

“He’s trying to be you,” she finally said, softer now. “Maybe that’s what’s breaking him.”

Taiki turned away, gripping his twin blades tighter.

“Then he’s going to shatter soon. And when he does… I’ll be the one to stop him.”

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Elsewhere, deep within the assassin elders’ sanctum — beyond fire-lit halls and memory-laced scrolls — Taiji Notajime knelt in silence, a mirror of his brother’s posture hours earlier. But unlike Taiki, his hands weren’t calloused by combat tonight… they were clean.

The elder known as Guthrie stood before him, his long ceremonial robe barely brushing the stone floor.

“You hesitated,” Guthrie said flatly.

“I wanted to see how far he’s come,” Taiji replied, his tone devoid of remorse. “And how far he’s willing to fall.”

“You endangered the mission.”

“I revealed our weakness.”

Guthrie turned away, disgust evident in his breath.

“You’re not ready.”

Taiji’s crimson eyes flickered.

“No… I’m more than ready. But the others aren’t.”

As the elder exited, Taiji turned to the shadow looming behind him — a silent figure cloaked in ninja black, face hidden by a void mask.

“Tell the clans,” Taiji whispered. “The time is near. The spider’s web has grown too thick. Burn it.”

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