Ninja Love: Saizo Kirigakure

Chapter 3

As I followed Grandfather further down the cool, dark hallway, I was bubbling over with a mixture of pride and bewilderment, standing tall but wide-eyed like a startled animal. The group of ninja trekked along behind me without a sound. Between being busy trying to arrange my thoughts into a sensible pattern and their impeccable stealth, half of the time I forgot they were even behind me.

Several times, I found my hand lifting subconsciously to outline the cool shape of the brilliant necklace resting against my collar, as if trying to assure me that this was all very, very real. My mind hadn't stopped reeling, even as we reached the end of the hall and walked through an open door much like the first, but this one was in remarkably better shape.

We entered a large room that was definitely better lit than the hallway, although still dimmer than I was used to, and somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered how our small temple managed to hide these places. The room was a large, open rectangle, with no furniture save for some lanterns hung along the walls and a single, low and wooden table in the center with some cushions around it for seating.

Grandfather beckoned me to the head of the table, and I hesitated for only a split second before going and arranging myself carefully on a vibrant pillow, trying to look as dignified as I could. Grandfather seated himself on my right hand side, while the apparent leader of the ninja sat to my left. The rest of the ninja seated themselves, two more on each side of the table.

Now that I could finally see more clearly and actually distinguish facial features, I was able to start examining the strange people with me, starting with the man who had seated himself next to me. He had kind brown, almost amber eyes and soft features. His dark brown hair reached to just below his chin. Strapped to his head was a shiny forehead protector mounted on a jet black cloth. As far as I could tell, it had no distinguishing markings. He wore an open-topped, black, short-sleeved monsuke. A black mesh undershirt peeked out from the parted cloth, and it was semi-transparent, exposing some of his muscled chest. The under shirt had long, dark blue sleeves that came out from the monsuke and just past his elbows before tucking into brown arm and wrist guards with ornate gold patterns. He also had a scarf wound around his neck that matched the hue of his undershirt's sleeve.

Before I could start asking any questions or even examine anyone else in the room, the man to my left spoke.

His deep voice reverberated throughout the hall, a kind tone tinted with what I'm sure could easily have been a strictly authoritative voice, "Princess Kusonoki, allow us to introduce ourselves. We are some of Japan's most elite ninja, and we have been given the charge of protecting you. I am Hanzo Hattori, from the village of Iga, and these are my colleagues," Hanzo gestured to the other ninja seated around the table and began to introduce them, giving me time to get a proper look at all of them.

The man seated next to Hanzo was the famed playboy extraordinaire, Goemon Ishikawa of Iga. His eye-catching shoulder-length red hair and strong facial features were enough to make any girl swoon, and his intense amber gaze was alluring, to say the least. He had on a sleeveless and skin-tight black shirt that showed off his body nicely. His left arm was completely exposed, displaying numerous scars and a swirling tattoo in red ink that snaked down to his elbow and further accented his bulging muscles. His right arm had some sort of black sleeve on it that went from the top of his arm to his wrist and had two separate but similarly patterned guards on it, one for the upper arm and one for the lower. Where my view ended at his waist, I could see an outer covering loosely slung around him, colored in warm hues that matched his eyes and hair. Goemon had his lips pressed into a thin smirk as he stared right back at me. I felt like his piercing golden stare could see right through me, and I unwillingly shivered and looked away.

Seated next to Goemon was Kotaro Fuma, a skilled gunner and elite ninja from Fuma, a town his family governed over. His silvery-white hair was slicked back neatly, with only a handful of hairs straying out of place. His hair fell in layers, the longest being right between his chin and shoulders, perfectly framing his face. He had slightly paler skin than the rest of the ninja, and brownish-red eyes peered out at me from behind a black mask that covered his mouth and nose, making it nearly impossible to guess what he was thinking. He wore a black garment with long baggy sleeves that ended in a white wrapping at his wrists, and a pattered maroon scarf around his neck. He sat with his arms crossed, and I got the impression that he was the strong, silent type.