The river shimmered under the moonlight, soft and silver.
I knelt beside it, cupped some water in my hands, and splashed my face. The cold stung, but it cleared my head. The air here was crisp. Untouched.
Quiet. Like the world had stopped.
A perfect place to train.
I stood up.
Drew my sword.
Breathed in.
The full moon hung above the trees, round and bright like a watchful eye.
I raised my blade.
And began.
One slash. Then another. Step. Turn. Cut.
I moved through the forms Father taught me. Slow at first. Then faster. The stances took over. My legs burned. My arms ached. But I kept moving.
This was the only thing that ever made sense. The sword didn't lie. It didn't pretend.
It just answered.
Step. Strike. Turn. Cut.
I pictured Father correcting my footwork. Saw Master Senju with arms crossed, nodding quietly.
I had passed my student trial, but I wasn't done. Not even close.
Something ahead still waited.
And I wanted to be ready.
Soon, I would become a full samurai. A man. I would walk the path of my family. Protect what mattered. Carry our name.
And after that...
Yuki.
I let the thought settle.
She was kind. The kind of kind that doesn't need to say anything. She just knew.
I remembered the time she brought me tea without a word when I had been training too long.
She didn't ask questions unless they mattered. And when she smiled, it felt like winter sunlight — soft, warm, honest.
We had only spent time in short visits. Proper ones. But I had come to know her eyes. And I liked them.
I wanted to understand her.
Walk beside her.
Protect her.
I trained until sweat soaked through my clothes. The river rushed nearby. The grass brushed against my ankles.
The moon watched.
Finally, I stopped.
Sat on the edge of the bank. Dipped my feet in the water. Let the cold steal some of the heat from my legs.
I leaned back.
Thought of Hina.
She would've teased me for sneaking out.
Maybe followed me with a wooden sword, mimicking my moves with a big grin. Said she was my apprentice.
She was so full of energy. Always asking questions. Always poking at my arm and asking if I could carry her on my shoulders even though she was "too old" for that now.
I thought of Mother. The way she read poems when the evenings were quiet.
And Father. His calm. His strength. His presence.
I closed my eyes.
I wanted to make them proud.
Not just follow their path.
But walk it with my own steps.
I stood up.
Sheathed my sword.
Turned toward the trees.
Time to return.
But something was wrong.
The air felt off.
Still. Not quiet. Still.
Like even the wind had stopped breathing.
Then I smelled it.
Blood.
My heart dropped.
I ran.
Branches whipped past me. Leaves tore at my sleeves. My breath came hard and fast.
The scent got stronger. Sharp. Rotten. Metallic.
The trees opened.
The house stood in silence.
Front door open.
No lights.
My feet slowed.
"Father?"
No answer.
I stepped onto the porch.
Ichiro was supposed to be in the hallway. But I only saw a pair of legs and a torn apart arm.
Blood soaked the floor. Dark. Still.
I couldn't breathe.
I pushed open the door.
The room… was hell.
Blood everywhere.
Walls. Futons. Floor.
Father lay near the entrance.
What was left of him.
His chest torn open. One arm missing. Blade snapped beside him.
Mother was against the wall. Kimono shredded. Throat torn. Eyes still open.
Hina—
My legs gave out.
She was small. Her body twisted. One leg gone. Hands in front of her face like she tried to block it.
I dropped to my knees.
Nothing came out. No sound. No thought.
Just pain.
I turned and stumbled into the next room.
Genjiro. Natsu. Little Haru.
Torn apart.
Pieces scattered like meat.
Haru still held her doll.
I backed away.
My body shook.
I collapsed on the porch.
The world spun.
What could do this?
Not bandits. Not wolves.
Nothing human.
My breath grew shallow.
The moon still hung above.
Still glowing.
Still calm.
Like it didn't care.
I clenched my fists.
Tears ran down my face.
I was too far.
Didn't hear their screams.
Didn't come in time.
They were gone.
And I didn't even know what killed them.
I sat there.
Shaking.
Broken.
Alone.
To Be Continued…