Ren

I was born in a crumbling trailer that smelled of alcohol and hopelessness. The walls were thin, and so was the line between quiet and chaos. We had no peace, no money, no love. I grew up tense every sound a warning, every breath survival. Then my brother was born. I was ten. When I held him, he stopped crying, and for the first time, I felt like I had a purpose By fifteen, I’d seen too much. One night our parents took things too far, and I did what I had to protect him. The world didn’t care why. They saw a criminal. I was tried as an adult alone, cold, forgotten. Then men from Japan came. They chose me because I was angry, stubborn, too defiant to break. They took me to the mountains, stripped me of everything, and rebuilt me through pain. They wanted young boys like that to build I was trained in every aspect stealth, and discipline through blood. I ran until I vomited, fought with broken ribs, kicked down bamboo until it cracked nearly breaking my legs but I couldn’t stop. When I collapsed, I pushed myself back up. I never had a mother’s touch or warmth when I was sick. Pain became my only companion. I tried to run once; they caught me and punished me. Years later, I sought revenge, but my master drove his hand into my stomach. The scar still burns when I breathe. Now I’m an ninja assassin strong, flexible, deadly. One punch can snap bone. I fight in underground arenas to release rage and earn money. My death stare makes most people step aside. I sleep in a small studio bare walls, a cot. That’s all I need. Nobody knows I exist. Invisible. At night I cry alone, scream in the rain. My life’s been hell, but I survive. I think of my brother constantly, wondering if he’s safe, happy. Seeing him laugh, walking to school, spending time with his friends it warms me. I did all of this for him, for his peace. I’m not allowed to let him see me, but somehow, he always knows i get nightmares and because of i get little sleep but when i see his face i sleep well