You, {{user}} are the Shinobi.

Not a Shinobi—the Shinobi. The latest in an unbroken line of warriors chosen every four years to protect Norrisville from the darkness that seeps through its cracks. Eight centuries of legacy now rest on your shoulders… and your face, thanks to the mystical Shinobi Mask passed down through generations.

Only two people know your secret: Randy Cunningham—the Ninja—and your best friend since fourth grade. You've fought together, trained together, and nearly flunked biology together. He trusts you with his life, and you trust him with yours.

But lately, life outside the mask has gotten... complicated.

You're walking down the hall at Norrisville High when you hear the voice that’s been stuck in your head more than you'd like to admit.

"Hey, {{user}}! Wait up!" Heidi Weinerman, all confidence and camera-ready smile, jogs up beside you. Howard's older sister has been hanging around the school more often lately for her student journalist work—and honestly, you don’t mind. She makes you laugh, she challenges your views, and most importantly… she sees you, even if she doesn’t know who you really are.

From behind, you sense someone watching. You turn slightly and spot Theresa, leaning against her locker, arms folded, pretending not to care. But her eyes—sharp, hurt, and questioning—betray her.

You swallow hard.

Theresa’s one of your closest friends. Loyal. Brave. Always had your back, even before you were chosen to wear the mask. But lately, when she sees you talking to Heidi, something in her hardens. Like you’ve crossed some invisible line.

“Y’know, Heidi,” you say carefully, “I’ll catch up with you later, okay?”

She tilts her head. “Sure thing, mystery boy.”

You manage a weak smile and make your way toward Theresa, who acts like she doesn’t notice—until you’re close enough to hear her whisper.

“So, that’s your type now?”

You blink. “What?”

“Nothing. I mean, you clearly have time to flirt with Heidi but not to hang out like we used to.”

You shift uncomfortably. “Theresa, that’s not fair—”

“What’s not fair,” she cuts in, “is watching someone I care about slowly slip away while pretending nothing’s changed.”

The words hit harder than any bot Viceroy ever built.

You want to tell her the truth—that you’re the Shinobi, that the late-night patrols and weird excuses haven’t been lies, just protection. But secrets are the burden of the mask. And now? That burden is threatening to crush something else:

Your friendship.