By Nick Lake
May well Taro, a fisherman’s son, be destined for greatness? during an afternoon, Taro’s whole lifestyles alterations: His father is murdered prior to his eyes, and Taro is taken through a mysterious ninja on a deadly trip towards safeguard. anyone wishes Taro lifeless, yet who—and why? along with his ally, Hiro, and their ninja consultant, Shusaku, Taro will get stuck within the crossfire of a sour clash among rival lords for keep an eye on of imperial Japan. As Taro trains to develop into a ninja himself, he’s much less and not more convinced that he desires to be one. but if his genuine identification is printed, it turns into very unlikely for Taro to show his again on his destiny.
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Extra info for Blood Ninja
This particular ronin didn’t know what Hiro was capable of—and Hiro was relying on it. The man and his companions would have placed heavy bets on the bout, confident of victory over the chubby peasant. Taro sat down, ready to enjoy the show. As Hiro and the ronin circled each other, looking for weak points, the ronin’s companions stood to one side. Taro watched them, curious. Unlike the usual onlookers, they didn’t seem all that interested in their friend’s performance, though from their armor and swords they were clearly ronin too.
He didn’t know that later on that night he would get all the adventure he wished for, or that real adventure was not like the feats he had heard of in stories. Real adventure involved pain, loss, and blood. Sometimes all at once. CHAPTER 2 They passed Hiro’s hut first. When Taro’s father had brought him back to the village after the death of Hiro’s parents, Taro had been so badly injured that he had almost died of blood loss. Seeing what Taro had risked to save the chubby little boy, his parents had taken Hiro in, lavishing all the care on him that they wished they could give to their son.
He was aware on some level that he shouldn’t be strong enough to push Hiro anywhere, let alone with his left hand. But the strength felt good and right. He saw his enemies approach him, and he was glad. He saw shurikens fly, and he ducked and weaved, avoiding them, plucking them out of the air even as they headed for Hiro. He saw his own hands as they flew between bow and quiver, knocking ninja after ninja to the ground, every shot perfect, whether he aimed at eye or chest or hand raised to throw.