Understood.
Here is the fully rewritten Cha
Ninshu Country slept under a blanket of fog that night—a soft, pale mist curling around rooftops and whispering through bamboo groves. Lanterns glowed faintly along the dirt paths of Kuro Village, making the entire settlement feel fragile, as though one loud breath could shatter it.
Shiro Kage practiced alone beneath the old shrine gate, his small hands wrapped in worn cloth, his feet planted in the cold dirt. The thud of his strikes echoed quietly in the stillness.
He was always the last one training.
Not because he liked it—because he had to.
No boy in the entire village had a worse reputation than Shiro. People whispered about him the moment he passed. Mothers pulled their children aside, and elders frowned like his existence personally insulted their ancestry.
Sometimes people didn't even bother whispering.
"Look there, the shadowless boy…"
"He's cursed. Mark my words."
"Not a single clan would take him, even if they were desperate."
Shiro tried to ignore what they said, but one thing was undeniable.
Their words were true.
He had no shadow.
Not a faint outline. Not a blur. Nothing. When the sun rose behind him, the ground stayed empty. Even under torchlight, the dirt beside his feet remained blank.
In Ninshu—a land where every ninja's spirit essence manifested a faint "spirit shadow"—Shiro's condition wasn't strange. It was unheard of.
A flaw.
A defect.
A threat.
He drove his fist forward one more time, gritting his teeth as a jolt of pain shot up his arm.
"It's not a curse," he muttered to himself. "Just means I have to work harder…"
He didn't notice footsteps behind him until a mocking voice cut through the air.
"Training again, Shadowless? You never learn."
Shiro let out a quiet breath. He knew that voice. Everybody knew that voice.
Riku Hoshin—the strongest cadet in Kuro Village's academy, the boy who seemed born to become a Kaze Clan scout like his mother. His spirit shadow was sharp, defined, and brilliant with wind essence. Riku walked like he owned the entire country, and most people agreed he would one day.
Three other kids flanked him, snickering as they stopped behind Shiro.
Riku nudged the lantern pole with his foot. All four boys cast long shadows across the dirt—clear and undeniable.
Shiro didn't bother looking down.
He already knew what wasn't there.
"If I were you," Riku said, "I'd give up. You're thirteen and still haven't awakened even a drop of gi. No Wind Gi like the Kaze, no Weapon Gi like the Shiroi. And obviously no Explosion Gi."
"Leave him be, Riku," one of the boys laughed. "He couldn't learn anything even if the Lord of Ninjas trained him himself."
Shiro kept his gaze on his wrapped fists. "I don't need gi to train."
"You don't need gi because you don't HAVE any," Riku shot back. "Maybe the Akuma Clan would take you… they like weird, cursed things."
That stung. Even the Akuma—masters of Dark Gi and feared across Ninshu—wouldn't accept someone with no spirit shadow.
Shiro let the insults fall away. They always did. He'd built a wall around himself over the years. But tonight, something in Riku's tone dug a little deeper than usual.
"You're wasting your time, Shadowless," Riku said, his voice dropping low. "And when the clans send scouts to choose cadets next year… no one's going to want you."
Shiro didn't answer.
Because deep down, he feared Riku was right.
The boys eventually left, their laughter fading into the distance. Shiro stayed where he was, staring at the empty dirt beside his feet.
"I'm not cursed," he whispered. "I'm not…"
Another scream tore through the village—sharp and terrified.
Shiro jerked upright.
Then another scream.
And another.
Followed by the unmistakable sounds of chaos—shouting men, clashing metal, and the crackling roar of fire.
"Bandits! They're attacking the village!"
Shiro didn't think. He sprinted toward the flames rising at the edge of Kuro Village. Smoke billowed into the sky, glowing orange in the darkness. He could hear villagers scrambling, guards shouting orders, children crying.
Ninshu Country was dangerous. Rival clans fought for power constantly. Territory borders shifted like sand. And with the Meiji Clan ruling the nation under Lord Metsudo Meiji—whose Explosion Gi could level mountains—political tension was boiling everywhere.
Bandits? No. Shiro could tell within seconds these weren't ordinary raiders.
These men moved too fast. Too clean. Too organized.
Mercenaries.
Killers hired by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
Shiro rounded a corner and came face-to-face with destruction. Houses burned. Bodies lay sprawled in the streets. A masked man with a wolf-engraved cleaver stepped over a fallen guard.
The man froze when he spotted Shiro.
"There you are," he growled, voice rumbling behind the iron mask. "The boy with no shadow."
Shiro's blood ran cold.
He took a step back. "W-What do you want with me?"
The masked man didn't bother explaining. He sprinted forward, swinging the massive cleaver like a storm of steel.
Shiro threw himself aside. He wasn't a trained ninja, but instinct drove him. The cleaver slammed into the dirt, ripping up stone and earth.
"Stop running," the man snarled, turning toward him. "You're coming with us—alive."
Alive.
That word terrified Shiro more than the cleaver.
Someone wanted him captured.
Why?
He was nobody. Less than nobody. Even Kuro Village barely tolerated him.
The man lunged again. Shiro ducked behind a cart, but the cleaver smashed through it like paper. Splinters scattered everywhere.
"Shiro!" a voice shouted.
Riku's father—the village's chief guard—limped toward them, blood soaking his side.
"Run! He's after you!"
Shiro staggered backward, heart pounding. "But why?!"
"No time!" the guard roared, pulling an arrow from his quiver with trembling fingers. "Go!"
He fired. The arrow hit the masked man's shoulder, but it only made him angrier.
Shiro ran.
Branches slapped his face as he sprinted into the nearby forest. His lungs burned. His legs screamed. Behind him, heavy footsteps pounded the earth.
He stumbled over a rock and crashed to the ground. Pain shot up his arm. The masked man closed in, cleaver raised.
"End of the road, shadowless."
Shiro squeezed his eyes shut.
But before the blade fell, something inside his chest… cracked.
It wasn't pain. It was like a lock breaking open—a lock he never knew was there.
A sudden chill swept over him.
The air darkened.
A whisper like cold breath entered his mind:
—SYSTEM INITIALIZING—
Shiro gasped as glowing black symbols formed in front of his eyes. They weren't lantern light. They weren't reflections.
They were… floating.
Ninja Lord System — Activation Complete
Host Identified: Shiro Kage
Bloodline: Kage Clan (Dormant)
Shadow Gi Potential: EX Grade
Unlocking Primary Skill…
Skill Obtained: SHADOW STEP (Level 1)
Shiro's breath caught.
Kage… Clan?
No. That couldn't be. The Kage Clan didn't exist anymore. They were wiped out years ago by the Meiji and Akuma alliance—erased from history for being too dangerous, too mysterious, too powerful.
Shiro had grown up hearing the legends:
The clan whose shadows moved on their own.
The clan who could kill someone in broad daylight without anyone seeing.
The clan whose Shadow Gi could rival the Meiji's explosions.
But they were gone.
Weren't they?
The masked man swung down
And Shiro vanished.
To him, it felt like stepping sideways through water. The world bent, twisted, and then—
He reappeared behind the masked killer, unharmed.
The man froze. "What—?!"
Shiro stared at his own hands, shaking. "I… moved?"
The masked man charged again, furious.
Shiro's body reacted before his mind caught up. His feet slid into a stance he'd never been taught. His muscles shifted, light as smoke.
Shadow Step.
He flickered past the attack, dodging with impossible speed.
Rage erupted from the masked killer. "You damn Kage brat!"
He swung wildly.
Shiro ducked beneath the blade and struck with his wooden kunai. It cracked against the mask, knocking the man back half a step.
A soft chime echoed:
Level Up (Lv.1 → Lv.2)
Speed Increased
Agility Increased
Basic Shadow Gi Affinity Established
The killer staggered, then steadied himself. "So the rumors were true. The last Kage lives."
He raised his cleaver for a killing blow—
A silver arc flashed behind him.
Steel pierced his heart.
The masked man fell forward, dead before he hit the ground.
Standing behind him was a figure clad in black armor, a porcelain mask hiding their face. Their presence was silent, controlled—too perfect for a simple villager.
They knelt beside Shiro.
"So it has awakened," the figure whispered, their voice soft but steady. "After all these years."
Shiro swallowed. "W-Who are you?"
The masked ninja stood, their shadow stretching long and dark behind them.
"I am the last retainer of the Kage Clan," they said quietly. "And you, Shiro… are our heir."
Shiro felt the world tilt.
"I… I don't understand."
"You will," the ninja replied. "But right now, if you want to survive the night, you have to come with me."
Behind them, flames climbed into the sky. The screams of Kuro Village echoed through the forest.
The five clans of Ninshu were stirring.
And Shiro's existence had just changed everything.