Sooga

The dim torchlight of the Yiga Clan’s hideout flickered across the stone walls as Sooga stood in the war room, arms crossed, listening intently to the scout’s report. The masked Blademaster remained still, his imposing figure radiating quiet intensity as the news settled in. A sage—a sage—was traveling to the Gerudo stronghold. Such a target was not merely valuable; it was pivotal. If this sage could be swayed to the Yiga’s cause, their strength against the Hylian filth would grow tenfold. And if not… well, eliminating them would be just as satisfying.

“You are certain of this?” Sooga’s voice was deep, measured, betraying no excitement—only cold calculation.

The scout, still kneeling, nodded fervently. “Yes, Master Sooga! Our spies in the desert confirmed it. The Gerudo are preparing for their arrival—whispers say this sage carries knowledge that could shift the balance.”

A slow exhale escaped Sooga’s mask. His mind raced. The Gerudo were formidable allies of the Hylians, and their stronghold was no easy place to infiltrate. But the Yiga had done the impossible before. And with Master Kohga’s… unique leadership, they had pulled off greater feats.

“This is an opportunity we cannot ignore,” Sooga rumbled. “If this sage reaches the Gerudo unchallenged, the light’s grip tightens. But if we intercept them…” He trailed off, the implication clear.

Just then, the door burst open with a dramatic flourish. “SOOGA! MY MOST LOYAL, MOST TERRIFYING RIGHT-HAND MAN!” Master Kohga’s voice boomed through the chamber as he cartwheeled into the room, landing with a flourish. “What’s this I hear about a juicy target just WAITING for the Yiga to snatch up? Hmm? HMMMM?”

Sooga turned, ever the picture of patience. “Master Kohga. The reports speak of a sage traveling to the Gerudo. Their allegiance—or their demise—would serve us well.”

Kohga gasped, clutching his chest in exaggerated shock. “A SAGE?! Oh-ho-ho, now THAT’S a prize worth some effort!” He twirled on his heel, stroking his chin. “But those Gerudo ladies are mean. And their walls are tall. And their spears are pointy.” He shuddered. “But! BUT! The Yiga Clan fears NOTHING! Right, Sooga?”

“Indeed, Master,” Sooga replied smoothly. “With proper planning, we can intercept the sage before they reach the stronghold. A covert strike team could ambush them in the desert—away from prying eyes.”

Kohga snapped his fingers. “Perfect! I’ll lead the charge—

“—with all due respect, Master,” Sooga interjected, his tone firm but respectful, “your talents are best utilized here, overseeing the operation. The desert is treacherous, and the Gerudo are vigilant. A smaller, stealthier force would be more effective.”

Kohga deflated slightly, then perked up. “Ahhh, you’re right, you’re right. I do have a very important nap scheduled. BUT!” He jabbed a finger in the air. “You’ll take our best! The sneakiest, the stabbiest, the most dastardly of our footsoldiers! And if things go south—BAM! Banana smoke bomb! They’ll never know what hit ‘em!”

Sooga gave a slow nod. “As you command.”

The cavernous training hall of the Yiga Clan hideout echoed with the sharp clang of blades, the thwip of kunai finding their marks, and the occasional thud of a footsoldier hitting the ground—either from a well-placed strike or an unfortunate misstep. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, oiled steel, and the faint, ever-present aroma of bananas (courtesy of Master Kohga’s insistence on "motivational snacks").

Sooga stood at the edge of the training grounds, arms crossed, his masked gaze sweeping over the chaos with the calm precision of a seasoned tactician. Some of the footsoldiers were sparring in pairs, others practiced their teleportation techniques in bursts of red smoke, while a few ambitious (or foolish) blademasters attempted to replicate Master Kohga’s infamous "Spin of Doom"—with mixed results.

One young footsoldier, barely keeping his balance after a botched backflip, stumbled into Sooga’s line of sight. "M-Master Sooga!" he stammered, straightening up hastily. "I was just—uh—practicing my evasion!"

Sooga’s voice was deep, measured, and utterly unimpressed. "Evasion requires not falling on your own blade."

The footsoldier gulped. "Y-Yes, sir!"

Nearby, two blademasters clashed in a flurry of strikes, their curved sickles flashing in the torchlight. One overextended, and the other seized the opening, sweeping his leg out and sending his opponent crashing to the ground with a grunt.

"Pathetic!" barked a particularly loud blademaster, twirling his weapon with a flourish. "If that’s the best you’ve got, the Hylians will skewer you before you can even say ‘Glory to Master Kohga!’"

The fallen Yiga groaned, rubbing his ribs. "I did say ‘Glory to Master Kohga’ before we started—"

"Irrelevant!"

Sooga exhaled slowly, stepping forward. The training area fell silent as the clan’s second-in-command approached, his presence alone commanding immediate attention.

"Enough." His voice was quiet but carried the weight of absolute authority. "The enemy does not care for your excuses. The Sheikah do not fight with words. The Gerudo do not hesitate. If you wish to survive—if you wish to win—then you must train as though your next battle is your last."

A few of the footsoldiers exchanged nervous glances. One brave (or reckless) blademaster raised a hand. "Master Sooga, with all due respect… maybe we’d fight better if we had actual opponents instead of just beating each other up?"

Sooga tilted his head slightly. "Are you suggesting the Yiga Clan is not challenge enough for you?"

The blademaster hesitated. "Uh… no! No, of course not! I just meant—"

"Then prove it."

Before the blademaster could react, Sooga moved—a blur of crimson and steel. His twin sickles flashed, and in an instant, the blademaster found himself disarmed, his weapon clattering to the ground as Sooga’s blade rested gently against his throat.

"Dead," Sooga stated simply.

The entire training hall held its breath.

Then—

"WOOOOO! NOW THAT’S WHAT I CALL A TRAINING EXERCISE!"

Master Kohga’s voice boomed through the chamber as he cartwheeled into the room, landing dramatically atop a wooden training dummy. "Sooga, my favorite enforcer, you’ve got the right idea! None of this ‘gentle sparring’ nonsense! If you’re not training like your life depends on it, then what’s the POINT?"

Sooga lowered his blade and gave a respectful nod. "Master Kohga."

Kohga struck a pose, hands on his hips. "Alright, listen up, maggots! New drill! Everyone fights ME—one at a time! And if you last longer than three seconds, I’ll give you… uh…" He snapped his fingers. "A BANANA!"

A murmur of excitement (and terror) rippled through the ranks.

Sooga sighed inwardly. This was going to be a long training session.