4.0 The Alpha

The day passed swiftly with her newfound friend. She hadn't merely put her mission on hold—she had abandoned ship. The moments she shared with Ise were free from expectation, fear, and the looming shadow of death. In his presence, she rediscovered a part of herself—one she believed had died alongside her closest childhood friend.

Mirai had watched her five-year-old friend be slaughtered during the raid on her homeland. The attack had been meant to claim her life as well, yet, for some inexplicable reason, she was spared. Everyone she had ever known was gone. That day, she was reunited with her father, but all that tethered her to her past was reduced to ashes. It was then that she made a vow—to kill the Mirai of old.

The following day marked the birth of the vile princess of the Minamoto clan. A deathly warrior of the night. As elusive as a shadow, as cunning as a fox, as ruthless as her father. And now, a man her age looked at her and saw color—art. The monochrome princess of the night, painted in vibrant hues. If art was truly the expression of the heart, then was this the part of her she had been blind to all along?

Her thoughts drifted through the night, yet they always returned to one thing—her codename. Alpha. The first female leader of an elite squad of Jōnin shinobi. Her rank surpassed even the guards patrolling the estate's perimeter. Eliminating her target and making a clean exit would not be easy, but it was well within her ability.

The two of them sat by the narrow stream that ran across the estate. The water trickled softly, filling the silence between them.

"So, you really don't know what your father does for a living?" Mirai's voice finally broke the stillness.

Ise took his time before answering. "I do know. But I don't support it... Still, he's my father. I don't really have a choice."

"I understand." Her tone softened. "And if you were in charge?"

"Then I'd rebuild my clan. Forfeit the old ways and guide my family toward a brighter future."

"A noble goal… but one that might still require you to dirty your hands." Mirai turned to him, meeting his gaze. There was something in his eyes—a sharpness, a knowing. He was suspicious of her.

"Then I'll do what I must to secure that future." He turned away.

Silence stretched between them, heavier than before.

"What was with that look?" Mirai asked, narrowing her eyes.

Ise exhaled slowly, his demeanor calm. "I'm no fool. You follow a strict, patterned jogging routine—like training. And your sudden friendliness… it feels like deception."

"Excuse me?" she shot back.

"Mirai, the first day we met, you were defensive—guarded. Now, all of a sudden, you're my friend?" His eyes searched hers for an answer.

"Well, I thought I should show gratitude to the one who saved my life." Her fingers brushed against the weapon at her side. "And besides, you were the one who called me a friend."

Ise chuckled. "I suppose that make sense—" he gave her long sidelook "But, now that I know who you are."

Her grip tightened. "And who might I be?"

"A force of nature." His voice remained neutral. "I am a shinobi. I do what is required of me—nothing more."

Mirai's fingers inched closer to her blade. It was time. Her mind was set—she would drive her knife into his throat and disappear into the night.

"Remember, I am no fool," he added, turning to face her. A sinister grin curled his lips.

She barely had time to react before her eyes flicked downward. A gun was aimed at her stomach.

When the hell did he draw that?

Screwed—

"I do want a different life, though." His voice was softer, almost regretful.

A blinking red light on his wristwatch caught her eye—an alarm. His expression darkened. Whatever the signal meant, it wasn't good.

Mirai moved. Her knife flashed free. A gunshot rang out.

She froze, bracing for the pain of a bullet piercing her flesh. But it never came. Instead, her knife lay several feet away. A bullet embedded in the face of the blade, having sent it flying into the distance.

"What are you doing? We need to go—someone's infiltrated the estate!" Ise ordered, already on his feet.

She hesitated, her mind reeling. "Why should I fight for you?"

"Not for me. You'll simply be rectifying your own failures."

Mirai scoffed, laughing under her breath as she followed him. "That's a first."

"Shinobi work in the shadows," he continued. "Yet the counterintelligence stunt you pulled led to a helicopter crash and mass casualties—the opposite of subtlety."

"Wait… I never said anything about crashing a heli—"

"Again, I am no fool."

Gunfire erupted in the distance, breaking their exchange. Mirai instinctively moved, pulling a fallen woman to her feet and directing fleeing civilians toward an escape route.

"See? Rectifying your mistakes," Ise remarked, stripping off his outer garments.

Mirai averted her eyes as he discarded his shirt, revealing a lean but powerful frame. "What are you doing?"

His arms lifted. "Ninjutsu," he called, fists clenching.

A thick veil of smoke erupted around him. When it cleared, he was clad in full black—a fitted shinobi uniform, two short swords sheathed at his back, a mask obscuring his face, and a sophisticated utility belt strapped around his waist.

At last, the invaders revealed themselves. Three figures emerged—two men and one woman, their attire nearly identical to Ise's. The Minamoto clan's emblem gleamed on their shoulders.

The female shinobi stepped forward. "Alpha in sight. Retrieving target."

Ise's voice was steady. "Mirai, this will get ugly. You should leave while you can." But Mirai ignored him. Instead, she stepped forward.