📜 PROLOGUE — A Name Before Shadows
Serang City, Banten Province, Indonesia – 1989
Before there was a blade in his hand, there was a stick. Before there was death in his eyes, there was mischief. And before the name Shadow echoed through the underworld, there was simply a boy named Misaki.
On this morning, he was chasing chickens through a neighbor's yard.
"MISAKI!" came his mother's voice, sharp and melodic, as a plastic sandal flew narrowly past his ear. "Get back here before I turn your ears into handles!"
Misaki laughed, darting between the banana trees, his bare feet slick with dew and red dirt. He was eight years old, a master of escape, a connoisseur of pranks, and an undisputed champion of kucing-kucingan.
To the adults of Serang, he was a handful.
To his gang of dusty-faced friends, he was a general.
They played in the alleys like they were ancient ruins. They built invisible empires. They wrapped headscarves around their eyes and called themselves shinobi. Misaki never just played ninja—he became one.
He moved quieter than the cats. He vanished when chased. He once "robbed" the peanut vendor using only shadows and a bent spoon. He called it "training."
That afternoon, they staged a raid on the older kids' turf near the warung. Misaki, crouched behind a wheelbarrow, whispered strategy like a battlefield commander.
"We strike from the side. Iqbal draws them out. Farhan and Reza loop in through the goat pen. They'll never see us coming."
Farhan, ever the wildcard, scratched his head. "What if they catch us?"
Misaki grinned. "Then we die heroes."
The attack was chaos. Screams, dust, a stolen sandal. But they pulled it off. They returned with two sodas and a bag of roasted corn—plunder from enemy hands.
Later, as dusk peeled the sky open with hues of fire and ash, Misaki's father called him inside.
Hendra was a quiet man. He didn't give praise freely. But that night, watching his son's grin as he told the story of their "mission," something shifted in his eyes.
"You think it's all games," he said, sipping his coffee, "but there's instinct in you. Real instinct."
Misaki looked up.
His father leaned in, voice soft but unflinching. "If you ever sharpen that, boy… it'll become something far more dangerous than fun."
Misaki didn't fully understand. Not then.
But later, when sleep refused to come, and he lay staring at the wood grain of the ceiling, he whispered to no one:
"One day… I'll disappear for real."
And outside, where the incense curled through alleyways and motorbikes rattled home, something unseen stirred.
A shadow was born.
Timeline of the Day – A Boy Lost in Play
08:00 AM – Morning in the Neighborhood
The streets of Serang City begin to stir under a soft, golden sunrise. The roosters' cries echo from rooftops, and vendors push their carts along the narrow alleys, preparing for a day of selling fresh fruit, fried tempeh, and warm rice packets wrapped in banana leaves.
Inside the Kisuke household, Misaki is already full of restless energy, bouncing around the small home where his mother, Elly Muslich, hums softly while preparing breakfast. His father, Hendra Trisyadi, is sitting near the entrance, reading a newspaper and commenting on politics while sipping strong, bitter coffee.
Elly Muslich (chiding playfully):
"Misaki, slow down! The morning has barely begun, and you're already ready for battle!"
Misaki (grinning while dodging behind the furniture):
"Because today is the day I defeat the bandits of Serang, Mama!"
In the corner, Niken, Misaki's older sister, watches with a mix of exasperation and amusement. She knows that before the day ends, she will inevitably become the target of his next prank.
10:00 AM – Gathering of the Young Warriors
Outside in the dusty streets, Misaki gathers with his childhood friends—his trusted "clan" of warriors" in their imaginary world of ninjas, shinobi, and feared assassins. They wrap scarves around their heads, wield makeshift wooden swords, and take on roles of heroes and villains.
The neighborhood becomes a battlefield.
Misaki Kisuke – The fearless shinobi leader, destined to bring honor to their secret group.
Reza – His right-hand strategist, known for setting up elaborate ambushes.
Farhan – The "rogue ninja," unpredictable and known for his wild attacks.
Iqbal – Their silent shadow, creeping through alleyways unseen.
Misaki (whispering, crouched behind a wooden fence):
"We move now. The enemy lurks near the warung. They have stolen treasures from the villagers!"
Their enemy? A group of older kids, known for chasing them off whenever their play drifted too close to their turf.
In a daring "mission", Misaki leads his friends in a stealth approach—creeping through narrow alleyways, leaping over tiny walls, and rolling beneath parked bicycles. Their giggles mix with whispered excitement.
Farhan (laughing, barely keeping his voice down):
"If we get caught, it's over. We will be banished from this street forever!"
But Misaki, even in childhood, thrived on risk. His mind was already calculating escape routes, planning ambush tactics, and moving with an uncanny precision beyond his age.
They strike—a burst of movement, fast and coordinated. The older kids shout in surprise, but the young shinobi are already on the move, scattering like shadows before they can be caught.
Iqbal (panting as they rush behind a wall):
"We did it, Leader! We stole back the treasures!"
Misaki grins, the taste of victory filling his chest.
Little did he know, this was the first test of his instincts. In years to come, these skills—stealth, precision, strategy, and audacity—would evolve into something far more than childhood games.
02:00 PM – A Lesson in Shadows
Back at home, Misaki's father, Hendra, watches his son with narrowed eyes. Though the boy thinks he is simply playing, his father sees something else—the makings of a mind built for cunning movements, calculated risks, and silent escapes.
Hendra (leaning forward, voice low):
"Misaki, do you know what you were really doing today?"
Misaki (grinning, scratching his head):
"Winning?"
Hendra (chuckling but serious):
"You were learning the way of the unseen—the art of disappearing before anyone notices. If you ever sharpen those instincts, boy, they could become something far greater than play."
Misaki doesn't understand yet. But years later, he will look back on his father's words and realize this was his first lesson in shadows.
07:00 PM – The Night of Tricks and Pranks
As night falls, Misaki—filled with the thrill of his victories—decides to target his ultimate rival: Niken, his older sister.
Misaki (whispering to himself, plotting his attack):
"She always catches me. But tonight, I will strike when she least expects it."
Hidden in the dim-lit corners of their house, he waits until she is distracted. Then—he leaps, throwing a tiny cloth ball toward her shoulder.
Niken yelps, startled, but she quickly spins on her heel, grabbing Misaki by the back of his shirt with expert speed.
Niken (laughing but victorious):
"Gotcha! You think you're the greatest ninja? Think again, little brother!"
Misaki groans—defeated, but only temporarily. Tomorrow, he will plan better, move faster, strike without warning.
Tomorrow, his games will be sharper.
Tomorrow, he will learn.
Closing Scene: A Glimpse of Destiny
Before bedtime, Misaki lies awake, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts drift back to the day—how it felt to lead, to vanish, to outmaneuver those who pursued him.
Misaki (whispering):
"One day, I won't just pretend. One day, I will truly disappear into the shadows."
Outside, the night breeze carries the scent of distant incense, and the whispers of destiny stir in the winds of Serang City.
A shadow is born.
Chapter 1: The Watchers in the Shadows
1989 – Serang City, Banten Province, Indonesia
The dusty streets of Serang City buzzed with life as the late afternoon sun stretched across the rooftops. The scent of freshly fried snacks from roadside vendors mixed with the rhythmic calls of merchants, selling everything from tempeh to handcrafted goods. In a small open field near the elementary school, a group of children had claimed the space as their battlefield—an arena where heroes and villains came alive through their imagination.
Among them was Misaki Kisuke, a boy with endless energy and a mischievous spark in his eyes. He ran barefoot across the dirt, pretending to be a shinobi, dodging imaginary attacks with a grace far beyond simple play. His movements—sharp, calculated, instinctual—hinted at something deeper, something unseen. He was just a child, unaware that even here, under the golden glow of the setting sun, fate had already begun weaving his story.
What Misaki did not know was that he was being watched.
Across the Street – The Silent Observers
Three men stood near an old warung, casually leaning against the wall as if blending into the city's natural rhythm.
At a glance, they seemed ordinary—just travelers or workers resting before the evening. But their presence carried an unspoken weight, a quiet intensity that only those trained in the art of observation could recognize.
Two of them were Japanese, their posture sharp despite their relaxed appearance. Their eyes moved with purpose, tracking every step, every jump, every motion of the boy in the field. The third man was Indonesian, his stance equally composed, arms crossed as he listened to the quiet discussion unfolding between them.
Japanese Man 1 (eyes narrowed, voice measured):
"He moves with precision. It's not just play. Look at the way he controls his weight—he's already developing instinct."
Japanese Man 2 (slight nod, analyzing Misaki's footwork):
"Most children react without thought. He adapts. He calculates. He knows how to anticipate movement before it happens."
Indonesian Man (a quiet chuckle, shaking his head):
"And yet, he has no idea. He believes he's simply playing. But that will change soon."
For weeks, they had observed Misaki from a distance, studying his behavior, watching how he moved. They were not searching for strength alone—any child could develop muscles—but for something rarer. They sought instinct, precision, adaptability—qualities that could not be taught, only sharpened.
Now, after careful analysis, the discussion was coming to a decision.
Japanese Man 1 (arms crossed, voice unwavering):
"It's time. He is the one."
Indonesian Man (a slow nod, gaze steady):
"Then his path begins soon. Whether he wants it or not."
The decision had been made.
Misaki Kisuke's fate was no longer his own.
Misaki's Unseen Awareness
Meanwhile, in the field, Misaki suddenly paused mid-step, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. His friends continued running, still engaged in their game, but he remained still, turning his head slightly toward the direction of the three men.
For a fleeting second, a strange feeling washed over him—not fear, but something else.
A presence.
A shift in the air.
Something watching.
His small fingers curled slightly, his instincts telling him to be alert. His eyes scanned the familiar street near his house, but he saw nothing unusual. Just people talking, vendors preparing for the evening, and a few men standing near the old warung.
Had he imagined it?
Misaki (muttering to himself, shaking off the feeling):
"Must be the wind…"
With a shrug, he dashed forward, diving back into the game, completely unaware that the first chapter of his destiny had already begun.
The watchers did not move, did not break their stance. They simply observed, their decision finalized, waiting for the right moment.
A Decision and an Unavoidable Path
The sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the streets, and the soft hum of distant evening prayers echoed from the nearby mosque. Misaki's friends began slowing down, their energy fading, ready to return home for dinner.
But across the street, the three observers remained.
Japanese Man 2 (soft exhale, crossing his arms):
"His movements are natural, but his awareness is developing too. He felt us—just for a moment."
Indonesian Man (amused):
"Some people spend years trying to train their instincts. He doesn't even realize he has them."
They waited.
Planned.
Calculated.
Soon, they would make contact.
Soon, the world Misaki knew—his simple life, his childhood games, his carefree innocence—would begin to shift into something far more dangerous.
Japanese Man 1 (final statement):
"His training begins soon. Let fate guide him forward."
Little did Misaki Kisuke know—his life was on the verge of changing forever.
Somewhere, in forgotten halls where ancient teachings remained hidden from the world, his name would soon be spoken. His fate as an assassin, as a warrior of shadows, was about to be sealed.
Chapter 2: The Invitation to Shadows
1989 – Serang City, Banten Province, Indonesia
The morning sun hung lazily over the rooftops of Serang City, casting long beams of light through the narrow alleyways where merchants prepared for another bustling day. The rhythmic calls of vendors blended with the scent of fried snacks, filling the air with warmth and familiarity.
Inside the Kisuke household, Elly Muslich was in the kitchen, carefully slicing shallots while soft steam rose from the pot of morning porridge. The air inside was cool, the window open just enough to let in the breeze.
She hadn't expected visitors today—certainly not strangers.
A Knock at the Door – Fate Arrives
The moment was ordinary until it wasn't.
A knock echoed from the entrance—not light or impatient, but firm. Precise. Measured.
Elly paused, setting down her knife, brows furrowing slightly. Who would be visiting at this hour?
In the back room, Niken, Misaki's older sister, stretched lazily, grumbling under her breath before heading to the door. Her fingers curled around the handle, pulling it open—only for her to freeze, caught off guard by the sight before her.
Standing beyond the threshold were three men, their presence calm yet commanding, like figures stepping out of forgotten history.
The Three Masters – Their Silent Introduction
Though dressed in ordinary clothing, their posture alone spoke volumes—reserved but unwavering, carrying an unspoken intensity that set them apart from everyday travelers.
Master Hayato of Ninjutsu
The eldest of the three, his expressions unreadable, as if his thoughts moved four steps ahead of every moment. His simple kimono blended into his surroundings, but the way he stood—relaxed yet completely aware—felt unnervingly deliberate.
Master Hayato (bowing slightly, voice steady):
"Madam Muslich, forgive the unexpected visit. We are new to the neighborhood, but we have been observing your son for some time."
Elly stood still for a moment, processing his words.
Elly Muslich (tone cautious):
"You have been watching… my son?"
Master Renjiro of Kendo
A swordsman feared even among the elites, whose blade never struck without intent. His stature carried discipline, his eyes sharp yet thoughtful, observing even the most minute details of the Kisuke home.
Master Renjiro (calm but firm):
"Not in secrecy. In admiration. We have seen the way he moves, the way he responds to his surroundings—it is rare."
Elly's grip tightened slightly around the edge of the table.
Elly Muslich (voice firmer, protective):
"Rare? He is just a boy. A mischievous one at that."
Renjiro exchanged a knowing glance with Master Rahman, their expressions unshaken.
Master Rahman of Pencak Silat
A man whose fists could shatter stone, but whose presence was calm, grounded, carrying the quiet confidence of a warrior who understood balance. He leaned slightly forward, hands resting casually in front of him.
Master Rahman (gentle smile, voice carrying warmth):
"We only seek to guide him. To teach him—not to change him, not to take him from his family."
For a moment, the air was thick with quiet tension.
Elly eyed each of them, trying to decipher whether this was some elaborate deception or something far deeper.
Master Hayato (voice slow, deliberate):
"We do not ask for payment. Only permission."
Elly's Dilemma – The Weight of a Mother's Decision
A mother's instinct never wavers, and in that moment, Elly Muslich wrestled with uncertainty.
Her son—Misaki—was a wild child, full of mischief, never once considering what his movements, his instincts, his relentless curiosity meant for his future. And yet…
She had seen how quickly he learned, how effortlessly he outmaneuvered others in his games, how—without even realizing it—he moved like a force waiting to be harnessed.
Perhaps, she thought, these men saw something she had yet to see.
The Final Decision – The Beginning of Shadows
Minutes passed, the weight of the conversation sinking into the walls of the quiet home. Then, finally, Elly Muslich exhaled, eyes steady.
Elly Muslich (soft, measured tone):
"If this training will not interfere with his childhood, if it will allow him to remain in our home, in his school… then I will allow it."
A subtle shift in the atmosphere followed—the moment fate took hold.
Master Hayato (bowing once more, voice lined with respect):
"Then it begins."
Without further words, the three masters turned, stepping away like phantoms fading into the streets, their presence felt even as they disappeared into the morning air.
Elly stood still, staring after them, unsure whether she had just opened a door to something far greater than she had imagined.
Meanwhile, at School – Misaki Unaware
At the very same moment, inside the classrooms of Serang Elementary, Misaki sat restlessly, his fingers doodling sketches of shinobi and samurai on the edges of his notebook.
His teacher droned on, explaining mathematics, but Misaki's mind was elsewhere—lost in a world of battles, warriors, and unseen forces.
Little did he know that his life had just changed forever.
By the time he returned home, his mother's eyes carried something different—a weight, a decision she had already made for him.
By the time night fell, the shadows had begun shaping the road ahead
Chapter 3: The Weighing of Fate
The Conversation Between Parents – Trust vs. Fear
Late Evening – Inside the Kisuke Household
A soft breeze rolled through the open window, stirring the lace curtains as the scent of damp earth and distant incense filled the room. Outside, the neighborhood streets settled into the calm hum of nighttime, the rhythmic prayers from a nearby musholla blending into the distant laughter of young children finishing their last games before bed.
But inside the Kisuke household, the atmosphere was anything but settled.
At the small wooden dining table, Elly Muslich sat with her fingers curled lightly around her tea cup, her thoughts tangled like unseen threads. Across from her, Hendra Trisyadi leaned back slightly in his chair, the lines on his face deepening as he processed the words his wife had just spoken.
Their son—Misaki—had been chosen, singled out by three masters, men of undeniable presence and precision. They had watched him, analyzed him, and now they wanted him.
The offer had seemed simple.
Training—free of charge. Without interrupting school. No obligations.
And yet, Hendra's skepticism ran deep.
A Father's Concern – The Weight of the Unknown
Hendra (voice slow, measured):
"Men like that don't ask—they calculate."
His fingers tapped lightly against the table, his mind working through the unspoken risks of their proposal.
Hendra (exhaling, leaning forward):
"They've been watching him for months. Not just casually, but deliberately. And now they come with an offer that asks for nothing?"
Elly held her cup closer, the warmth pressing against her palms.
Elly (softly, carefully choosing her words):
"They didn't demand anything, Hendra. They were… respectful. Patient."
Hendra (raising an eyebrow, voice edged with doubt):
"That's the smartest way to gain trust, isn't it?"
Elly sighed, her gaze drifting toward the small framed photograph on the wall—Misaki, frozen in time, grinning mischievously beside his sister.
Elly (whispering, uncertain):
"He's still just a child."
Hendra (leaning back, staring at the ceiling):
"Exactly."
The room fell into a quiet lull, tension thick between fear and curiosity.
A Mother's Uncertainty – Fear vs. Hope
Elly had always been protective, the kind of mother who saw danger before it arrived, who counted the steps between safety and risk. But something about the masters' presence lingered—not as a threat, but as a promise of something waiting beneath the surface.
Her son—her wild, mischievous, sharp-eyed boy—had always been different. Too quick, too aware, too restless, as if the world wasn't moving fast enough for him.
And these men?
They had recognized that same something in him.
Elly (exhaling deeply, glancing toward her husband):
"They saw something in him, Hendra. Something I can't explain. But…"
She hesitated.
Elly (voice quieter, almost afraid to say it aloud):
"What if they're right?"
Hendra's jaw tightened.
Hendra (stern, unwavering):
"And what if they're wrong?"
Elly held his gaze, the unspoken weight settling between them.
What if this was a mistake?
What if these men took Misaki down a path he couldn't return from?
A Father's Ultimatum – No Blind Trust
Hendra wasn't a man driven by emotion—he was practical, calculating, a man who understood that trust was earned, not given freely.
Hendra (crossing his arms, finalizing his decision):
"If they want him, they prove themselves first. No blind trust."
Elly studied him, considering his words. It was reasonable, wasn't it? A test. A proof of their skill, their intentions, before they handed their son over to unknown hands.
Elly (soft nod, deciding with him):
"We meet them again. And if they fail to convince us—this ends before it begins."
A slow exhale filled the space.
The decision had been made.
For now, the door remained half-open—an invitation to test fate without fully stepping into it.
Meanwhile, Misaki – The Restless Thrill of the Unknown
From the corner of the house, Misaki listened, his fingers idly tracing the wood of the table beside him.
His emotions churned in a collision between doubt and excitement.
Skepticism burned in his chest—but so did the thrill.
He wasn't fearless.
Wasn't disciplined.
But if these men truly saw something in him… what if they were right?
Misaki (stepping forward, voice firm despite his young age):
"I want to try it."
His parents looked at him, studying his expression carefully.
Hendra (sharp eyes, testing him):
"Why?"
Misaki (exhaling, trying to find the words):
"Because… what if I really do have something inside me?"
Elly's expression softened.
Elly (gentle but concerned):
"And what if it's dangerous?"
Misaki hesitated. Then—straightened his posture, refusing to back down.
Misaki (steady voice, unwavering):
"Then I want to see how far I can go."
Another moment of silence.
Then, finally, Hendra sighed, rubbing his temple.
Hendra (decisive):
"Then they prove themselves first."
Elly nodded in agreement.
Elly (final words):
"We will meet them again. But if they fail, it ends before it begins."
Misaki swallowed, nodding slowly.
Tomorrow, his first test would begin.
Outside, the Masters Wait
Beyond the walls of the Kisuke household, Master Hayato, Master Renjiro, and Master Rahman remained silent, waiting.
They knew the skepticism would come. They expected it.
Tomorrow, their offer wouldn't be words anymore. It would be proven, demonstrated, undeniable.
For Misaki, for his parents, the path of shadows was about to be revealed