Return of the Woodcutter

Sheyla Ryu was a strong woman with quite the iron will. 

How couldn't she be strong after going through the Ryu family training regimen and strict selection? Hard and meticulous were poor words to define them. 

The Ryu family had picked her out of every child in several orphanages because of her genes. It boiled down to two words: "strong" and "attractive."

She shouldn't have any other body defects such as scars, a weird nose, allergy, chronic sickness, etc. Their criteria were extremely strict. Like every partner, she had to be perfect in all aspects. 

Her training had started as soon as she entered the Ryu hidden manor. Every day was a torture of its own. Only allowed 6 hours of sleep, the other 18 hours were scheduled for training. 

Eating, bathing, pissing, and even shitting were turned into training. To eat, she would have to scavenge, steal food in the manor. If she was spotted, she'd be punished. 

To bath, she'd have to do so in cold saltwater with a temperature averaging -10°C. Not much of a bath, but better than nothing. Up to her to get rid of the salt by either stealing freshwater or just rub it off her body. If her adoptive father realized she wasn't clean afterward, she would be beaten. 

With his knowledge of the human anatomy and deadly arts, there was no way her adoptive father would leave a scar on her body. 

To relieve herself, she'd have to do so in a particular pot, which location would change every day. If she was seen relieving herself, she would also be punished. 

On top of that, she'd be trained in various skills every day. As a child, she had been educated to the ways of the world in the morning. Afternoons were for physical training. Evenings were for stealth training. 

During her childhood, her only salvation, the reason she had been able to handle all this, was her older brother, Ogoro. 

Compared to the dozens of other blood children of the Ryu families, he was kind. Too kind for an assassin. A personality trait unneeded for their line of work. 

He would comfort her every night. Telling her that everything would be fine. What a beautiful lie it had been. Yet, that kept her going somehow. 

Sometimes some children would take their own life because they couldn't bear the training. Mostly the adopted ones. So it wasn't an exaggeration to say that Ogoro had saved her life countless times. 

Never did he lay his eye on her like a savage beast in search of a sexual partner, a mate. Even when they had grown into adults. The other adopted girls or boys had suffered that fate. But not her. 

Though, they both were trained in the art of bedding the opposite or same genders—because assassination required pleasing targets with sometimes different tastes—meaning they were quite proficient in pleasing others in bed, they never saw each other this way. 

Why? Because fucking a person from the same family wasn't their kink. And to them, they were to each other the only family they had. 

To Sheyla, Ogoro was the only real pillar of support in a dark world full of death. The same went for Ogoro. Even more since—like Sheyla used to call him—the big oaf was a fan of anime and fantasy heroes.

More than a fan, actually, he admired them. Saving the damsel in distress. Be the hero people needed in their darkest times. Becoming a figure of hope. He had dreamt of being such a person one day.

That same dream crumbled when the final test before becoming full-fledged Ryu assassins came, where the dozens of duo would have to kill each others, for only two duo to remain. 

Despite being considered one of the weakest duo, Sheyla and Ogoro pulled it off. Surviving until the very end because of the strong bond they shared, not necessarily because they were the best. Other children would sometimes betray each others, forming alliances with other children from different groups. Common tactics for assassins. 

After that, Ogoro's childish dream of becoming a hero disappeared from his mind, as he resolved himself to become a symbol of despair instead of hope. 

Under that burden and reality, his hair rapidly turned white as they both completed assassinations after assassinations. At some point, the siblings developed a taste for killing. An inevitable side effect due to constant bloodshed.

But that conflicted with their very nature. Alienating who they were deep down. Forcing them to hide, cower from their bloodlust behind a mask of indifference. 

Even if she knew what Ogoro had aspired to be and that killing hurt him deeply, Sheyla thought it was better this way. What would being a hero bring, anyway? Troubles? Certainly. Gratefulness? Maybe. But that fades with time. 

In their previous world, on Earth, heroes were but a symbol used for different purposes. War heroes helped create a sense of belonging, of patriotism and also an example to follow. Fictitious heroes were just for entertainment and wish fulfillment. 

True heroes, in Sheyla's mind, were hard to come by. She could take the example of a famous black man who had fought for skin color equality. What happened to him in the end, he had died because of his beliefs.

Another example was a certain young woman who had led the French army to victory during the Hundred Years war. How had she been rewarded? Burnt on a stake. 

They had both brought about great changes but had paid the ultimate price for it. 

Many famous heroes had suffered the same fate. Because of a single reason: powerful people disliked attention to be drawn elsewhere than towards themselves. In other words, the changes famous heroes brought, were not welcomed.

A good hero was a dead hero or a discreet hero. At least that's what Sheyla came to understand. 

What were heroes, anyway? The notion was blurred. It could be twisted, reshaped, rescaled. A tyrant could become a national hero through dubious means. A dog could become the neighborhood's hero for saving a child from Truck-kun. A granny could become a starving little girl's hero by giving her food. 

So yeah, what are heroes? Who are heroes? 

That she didn't know for sure. One thing she knew, though, was that it could only bring trouble to her brother. Even more, since he had aspired to be some kind of famous hero who'd save everyone. 

Which would have ended up getting him killed at some point. Their job was already dangerous enough as it was. No need to add another burden on top of it. 

That's why she was glad he had abandoned that foolish ideal since it could get him and her killed in that unforgiving line of work Sheyla dearly wished they hadn't been born into. 

Luck has it, they had revived after their last mission comprising assassinating Kai Tsubame—who apparently was still unaware he had died by their hands—she had felt liberated. Finally, free to do as they please. 

When came what she thought would be their last moment together, against that endless wave of zombies, Sheyla had allowed herself to fulfill one of her brother's wishes. Something she hadn't been able to do in the past. To call him onii-chan. 

How shameful it had been. It had sounded so wrong. But Ogoro liked it, apparently. That big oaf had watched too many animes in the little spare time he had. Never again would she do this. 

Never!

Then, just when they had thought everything was lost, HE appeared out of thin air. Like a damn hero Ogoro was so fond of. Rekindling a flame of hope in her brother. A flame she wished had stayed extinguished. 

Ogoro might not talk about it openly, but she knew her brother better than anyone else. She knew what stupid thoughts he was currently nursing. 

And that was all HIS fault! 

That damn black challenger. 

Also, he was someone she had encountered before. Ironically, three years ago, Kai Tsubame had tasked her to beat the shit out of him during a weird fighting tournament. A very peculiar mission since it hadn't involved killing. 

However, the bastard had proved to be a tough and shameless motherfucker. At first, she hadn't been sure it was him, since his get-up was quite different from that time. 

No more tattoo on his forearm, long hair, a weird beard, and he had even gained weight, at least the time she saw him in the red trial. 

She thought that he'd die in the black trial since according to Filona it was impossible to clear. But he was a real cockroach and surpassed, once again her expectations by surviving the impossible. 

Like a freaking goddamn hero. Further increasing Ogoro's misplaced growing admiration for the man. 

Sheyla didn't particularly hate him. Even if the shameless bastard had revealed her chest to the entire world. Though it had been a bit shameful, it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. She wasn't as petty as begrudging someone for that. After all, she had learned to control her shame. 

As an assassin, Sheyla had done far more shameful things than standing half-naked in the middle of a stadium full of people.