The Ninja and the Tomboy

Disclaimer: All familiar characters belong to Capcom.

One Shot

I can hear the wind outside of my dojo, and smell the sweet scent of wax burning from the candles. It is nightfall, and I am focusing my mind; training it to be as disciplined as my body. I reflect on my past victories and defeats, wondering what I did wrong, and what my opponent did right to defeat me.

I have a rule in my dojo; I will only train someone if they can defeat me. Some have, including a girl.


That was her name. At least, I think it was. How can I be defeated by a ninja, one of the most dishonorable types of people imaginable? Ninjas hide in the shadows and strike without warning, never giving time for the opponent to prepare for a proper defense.

Still, there was something about her, something about Ibuki, that I feel differently about. Her face.

She is a mystery to me; so sweet, despite being a trained assassin. Ibuki does not act like she is an assassin. Rather, she acts…like a child. Why? How can a woman like Ibuki, with her beautiful legs, round buttocks, and gorgeous breasts, seem to act so…immature?


She is actually beautiful. I just wish I could see her face. It must be more feminine too. I wish I could figure the secret out on her femininity. How can she act like a woman, when I look like a boy?
I hate it; people confusing me with being a boy. I guess, if I grew my hair out longer, like Ibuki, I could be a girl.

Ibuki, a darling, flexible young girl.

Why am I thinking of her? She is a ninja. She fights dirty. That was the only reason she won!

Or was it?

Did I want her to win? Did I want her in my dojo so I could be close to her? Did I throw the fight so I could satisfy my own lust for a ninja, of all people?

No, I did not. Ibuki won. She cheated, but she did defeat me and I have to allow her into my dojo.

I feel a warm breeze in my ear. I immediately open my eyes, but I detect no one there. A small piece of paper lay at my feet and I pick it up. It is a message, from my darling Ibuki.

It said she could not wait to start training with me tomorrow. I smirked and sniffed the paper. Her scent was intoxicating, and I detected the faint whiff of vanilla.

I will be looking forward to training her. Perhaps I should make it a private training session, just so I can look into her eyes and tell her I love her.

I'd consider it an honor, even if Ibuki is a ninja.

The next morning, I watch secretly as Ibuki warms up for training. I cannot stop staring at her; she has the grace of a cat as she bends over backwards. It is as if I am being called by fate to lust after a polar opposite of me. Yet, despite all that I despise of the dishonorable way of the ninja, I feel like I am drawn to her even more so. I have no idea why, though, but as I enter and begin instructing her, I cannot help but feel there is electricity in the air between us. I do not know if she can feel it, but, as I touch Ibuki's skin, I can feel goosebumps enter me. I can feel the warmth of her body as it washes over me like a wave, soaking me from head to toe with feelings of lust and desire.

I take a deep breath, attempting to focus my mind and not my hormones. I continued the lesson, hoping that, by the end of it, I at least had my clothes on.

Ibuki must have known I had feelings for her. I was trembling and stuttering as with each passing movement. What if she liked me? Worse, what if she rejected me? I actually do not think I could live with rejection. I mean, I love Ibuki, but I fear as though she may end up rejecting me. Her feelings toward boys are complete and unconditional. To me, I could never like boys. I feel boys are just too immature and not serious. I guess that is why I look like a boy; maybe to remind myself I want to be like them; immature and not serious. But, it is not meant to be. I am a woman, and have to act as such. Ibuki calls my name, and I snap out of my daydream, almost. I look at her, and she is sprawled out on the floor, complaining that her legs are tired. I decided to take a break and allowed her some rest. I retreated to garden to meditate. At least, that is what I told Ibuki. I did go back to the garden, but not to meditate. Once I was sure I was out of her sight, I hid behind a bush and began sobbing.

Darling Ibuki. You are so beautiful. Why can I not tell you of how I feel? Am I afraid of rejection? Am I afraid of you rejecting me?

Ibuki, please, love me.

End of One Shot