I've got some friends in a couple of different groups that would argue they're modern ninjas, and others that say they're better than ninjas could ever be.
[Note: This is fiction. It is a common story line and I did two minutes of actual research on ninja. I just felt like writing this after reading this meme. Anyway, here you go.]
'
Kawakami Jinichi, the last ninja, knew his days were numbered. His ankles screamed once his feet touched the floor in the morning. His bones begged for relief on his afternoon walks. The knots in his back prodded him awake each night. He knew in his old age that his body was bearing the burdens that his soul could no longer carry.
'
The way of the shinobi ends with me, Kawakami decided long ago. The purpose of life is to bring forth more life, he mused, but we ninja bring only death to the world. We are an antithesis to the natural order with no counterbalance. Our path will stop with me.
And so, for him, it did. Thirty years ago, he wrapped his shuriken in cloth and locked them in a box in the attic never to be opened again. Twenty years ago, he donated his swords and shozoku to a prominent museum with a robust wing on feudal Japan. Ten years ago, he burned the last of the sacred scrolls that codified the way of his art. And each day, he pushed the memories of the many lives that he’d taken to the farthest reaches of his mind.
'
Kawakami had assassinated many men in his lifetime – scores of corrupt politicians, dozens of foreign spies, several mob leaders, and handful of other shinobi. All to keep peace among the public and order in the lives of his fellow citizens. He killed to shield the defenseless. He was justice for the forsaken.
Thus, he felt nothing whenever he pierced his targets’ hearts, eviscerated their bowels, or lopped off their heads. Wiping away their lives was as simple as wiping the sweat from his brow. But he felt something when he killed the 14-year old daughter of a notorious pharmaceutical executive, Sugiyama Hirotada, whose company made Cotyoxin, a popular opioid that ‘9 out of 10 doctors recommended.’
'
Sugiyama made his fortune off the drug but made millions more by selling a contaminated version of it on the black market. Countless Japanese became hooked on Cotyoxin, then turned to his black-market equivalent when their prescriptions ran out. He had created a nation of addicts and amassed his fortune on the backs of his countrymen. Sugiyama had taken life from many. And for that, he had to pay.
Kawakami remembered when he received the order from the government leader whose son had fallen victim to Sugiyama’s drugs. He remembered how he silently slit the throats of the three bodyguards patrolling Sugiyama’s home before he stealthily scaled the roof and opened his daughter’s bedroom window. He remembered how her eyes widened with fear when he crossed her room in two swift steps and covered her mouth before she could scream. He remembered how she pleaded for mercy with those same eyes once he placed the tip of his kunai beneath her chin. And he remembered the warmth of her blood as it spilled down his forearm after he thrust the kunai upward into her brain.
'
Sugiyama had taken life from many. And for that he had to pay.
The way of the shinobi ends with me, Kawakami decided long ago. Kawakami roused himself from his daydream and rose from his chair to prepare himself a cup of tea, his rigid muscles begging him for just a few more moments of rest. He heard a knock as he moved toward the kitchen. Slowly, he turned, shuffled to his door, and opened it.
'
Give me something to eat, the dirty boy in front of him demanded. He stared at Kawakami with steely eyes. His hair was matted. His clothes were soiled. He stunk worse than she looked. They only used to beg in the streets, Kawakami thought to himself. Their hunger is making them bold.
Give me something to eat, the boy repeated with his eyes locked on Kawakami’s. He had no fear. Kawakami thought of the injustice of the boy’s penury. He thought of the lives he’d taken to protect the innocent. To settle the score for the defenseless. To bring fairness to the maligned. Yet, despite his lifetime of efforts to bring goodness to the world, here was this dirty child on his doorstep begging impetuously for food.
'
The way of the shinobi ends with me, Kawakami decided long ago. Perhaps, he thought to himself. Perhaps.
'
Kawakami invited the boy inside. [END]
'
Kawakami Jinichi, the last ninja, knew his days were numbered. His ankles screamed once his feet touched the floor in the morning. His bones begged for relief on his afternoon walks. The knots in his back prodded him awake each night. He knew in his old age that his body was bearing the burdens that his soul could no longer carry.
'
The way of the shinobi ends with me, Kawakami decided long ago. The purpose of life is to bring forth more life, he mused, but we ninja bring only death to the world. We are an antithesis to the natural order with no counterbalance. Our path will stop with me.
'
Kawakami had assassinated many men in his lifetime – scores of corrupt politicians, dozens of foreign spies, several mob leaders, and handful of other shinobi. All to keep peace among the public and order in the lives of his fellow citizens. He killed to shield the defenseless. He was justice for the forsaken.
'
Sugiyama made his fortune off the drug but made millions more by selling a contaminated version of it on the black market. Countless Japanese became hooked on Cotyoxin, then turned to his black-market equivalent when their prescriptions ran out. He had created a nation of addicts and amassed his fortune on the backs of his countrymen. Sugiyama had taken life from many. And for that, he had to pay.
'
Sugiyama had taken life from many. And for that he had to pay.
'
Give me something to eat, the dirty boy in front of him demanded. He stared at Kawakami with steely eyes. His hair was matted. His clothes were soiled. He stunk worse than she looked. They only used to beg in the streets, Kawakami thought to himself. Their hunger is making them bold.
'
The way of the shinobi ends with me, Kawakami decided long ago. Perhaps, he thought to himself. Perhaps.
'
Kawakami invited the boy inside. [END]