I once saw a samurai with flawless form and skill. He cut bamboo and trees with ease, his movements filled with an effortless grace that felt unreal.
A gang had tried to kill me. It happened in a forest. I was certain those moments were my last—until he appeared.
One by one, he cut them down. The final enemy was a knight. The odds were against him. He wore no armor, while the knight stood fully clad. I thought this was where it would end.
They clashed.
In ten seconds, it was over. The knight fell, and I was still alive.
The samurai turned to me, his blade dripping with blood.
"Boy," he said, "you are an orphan, correct?"
"My mother is dead," I answered. "My father… I haven't seen him in three years."
He studied me for a moment.
"Then be my blood," he said. "I will take care of you. I will show you the way of the blade."
I looked at him—covered in blood, calm as stone—and knew my answer before I spoke.
I accepted.
We walked into nowhere.
He had a scar on his chin and brown eyes that never wavered. I had black hair and legs that struggled to keep pace. Hunger soon found me. Without a word, he killed rabbits, cooked them over fire, and gave me food. We drank from rivers as we traveled.
As time passed, our pace quickened.
He is testing me, I thought.
Mountains rose before us. Rocks lined the path. The sun burned mercilessly, and the road never seemed to end. My body screamed, but I followed.
At last, we stopped.
Long stone stairs climbed toward the sky. At the top stood a temple. Many people were there—watching.
"These are my students," he said.
He looked at me once more.
"Go," he said. "Greet your brothers."