Super Dinosaur Ninja Squadron

The dojo looked like something had chewed it up and spat it out.

Ryu sat in the wreckage, surrounded by the sounds of his team — groans, sharp hisses of breath, the occasional curse bitten back. The dragon blade Muramasa lay across the floor a few feet away, its edge still humming with a low, restless energy, like it hadn’t decided it was done yet. He didn’t touch it. He just stared at it.

He pressed both hands to his face.

All my fault. “I should have never brought Kura—” He caught himself. “That yokai here.”

He heard Asa before he saw her. Her footsteps were measured even now — she was always steady when everyone else was falling apart. That was why she was Red.

“You couldn’t have known Sakura was a yokai,” she said. “None of us did.”

“I knew she was half yokai.” The words came out flat. “She’s Master Hebi’s daughter.”

A beat.

“Did he know?”

“No. Just me.” Ryu lowered his hands. “I figured it out the second time I brought her here — the way she moved, the way Hebi looked at her without recognizing what he was looking at. I just… couldn’t bring myself to say it.”

Asa was quiet for a moment. Then: “It’s still not your fault. You didn’t know she was one of Akuma’s generals.”

“I didn’t. But I should’ve.” His jaw tightened. “The cherry blossoms. Her name. It was all right there and I just—” He shook his head. “I was blind.”

“Hey.” Her voice went firm. “Don’t do that. You worked with what you had.”

He nodded once, not because he believed her.

Then the alarm went off.

The team stirred — groans becoming grumbles, grumbles becoming motion. They reached for their transformation shurikens almost by reflex. And came up empty.

The search didn’t take long. A small box, sitting in plain sight on what remained of the supply shelf. Time-locked. Solid. Ryu’s work — they all knew it the moment they saw it.

They went to find him. He was already gone.

Ryu hit the city at a run.

The street ahead was wrong — too quiet, too still, cherry blossom petals drifting through smoke that shouldn’t be there. He slowed when he saw her.

Sakura stood in her yokai form in the middle of the road. Her silhouette was the same — same height, same posture — but everything else had shifted into something sharper, older. The nekomata’s twin tails curled lazily behind her.

Tears cut down Ryu’s face. He didn’t wipe them.

Her frown was genuine. That was almost worse.

“You didn’t take my offer.” Not an accusation. More like disappointment.

“And let you kill my friends? Never.”

“They aren’t your friends, Ryu.” Her voice was soft. “You’re a tool to them, same as I was. When they find out what you really are they'll throw you away,”

Ryu let out a slow breath. “Guess you weren’t either.” He looked down at the dragon blade in his hand. “I really hate terrans sometimes.”

Sakura’s smirk was sharp and familiar. “You’re not going to fight me with that.”