That night was one no one ever forgot.
The village had turned into a battlefield blood flowed everywhere,
and the only sounds echoing in the darkness were the dying breaths of the living
and the desperate cries of helpless souls clinging to life.
Women, children, and the elderly all fell to the earth that night, lifeless.
It was the twilight of an era
the cruel dance of human greed and boundless brutality.
Even as countless lives were sacrificed to the soil,
their thirst for destruction did not fade;
they hunted the village like beasts of the dark.
That night, many samurai rose to defend the village.
They fought till their final breath but in vain.
Amid the blood and the clash of swords,
one man stood forth determined to fight until his dying breath
to protect everyone.
He was the legend "Satoshi Fuji."
Before the blade of his sword, none could escape.
To face Satoshi was to challenge death itself.
His sword was said to draw power from the five sacred elements,
capable of cutting not just flesh, but the very soul of his enemies.
One by one, those who faced him fell to the ground and vanished into the dust.
But then someone struck him from behind.
Using the greatest weapon of cowards betrayal,
that man brought the great warrior down.
And that day, they didn't just kill Satoshi
they destroyed the line of heroes that might have followed him.
Yet… a few survived that night,
disappearing into the shadows.
"Who were they...?"
asked a young boy, his eyes wide with curiosity,
as he listened to the old man's tale.
"Well... that is"
the elder began, but before he could finish,
a woman stepped into the room.
"It's time for their training," she said firmly.
"You shouldn't distract them with old war stories."
Calling the children, she led them away.
But...
one boy stayed behind.
He turned back toward the old man and asked quietly,
"Then… what happened to Satoshi's family?"
The elder looked into the boy's eyes
and sat in silence.
It was an ancient samurai training hall, where generations of warriors had been forged.
Inside, rows of children sat in silence disciplined, watchful, and alert.
Every year, the kingdom produced many samurai
not only to serve the Emperor and his royal kin,
but also to protect the villages, the helpless, and every living soul within the land.
Now, the children gathered in that hall had been chosen
chosen to defend the next generation,
to guard life and honor with their swords.
Even if their parents did not consent,
the kingdom's law demanded that every capable child
be offered in service of the realm.
Those who defied this law were punished without mercy.
Here, the young trainees were divided and tested
in many ways by skill, endurance, spirit, and will.
Each group belonged to a different dojo,
each dojo led by a master
a sensei who would mold them into warriors of unyielding strength and discipline.
The children sat in perfect silence, waiting for their master's arrival.
After a short while, the woman entered the hall.
"Dear ones, chosen warriors…" she began, her voice calm yet commanding.
"I believe you all understand why you have been brought here,
and what your duty shall be from this day forward.
From now on, this dojo and the training within these walls
will become half of your very life.
You are to prepare yourselves body, mind, and spirit
to become the weapons that will protect our kingdom and all who live within it."
Her words echoed softly across the hall.
The children sat still, their eyes fixed upon her,
feeling the weight of destiny settle upon their small shoulders.
"Your master the one you have been waiting for
will soon arrive to meet you,"
she said finally, her tone solemn.
With that, the woman turned gracefully and walked out,
leaving behind a silence that felt heavier than steel.
Within moments, the door slid open, and their master entered the hall.
The instant he stepped inside, every child lowered their head in reverence.
It was their custom to bow when one worthy of respect arrived.
The old master took his place upon the seat prepared for him.
His gaze swept across the room, resting upon each young face before him.
"You may all sit," he said calmly.
The children straightened and sat facing him, silent and attentive.
"I congratulate each one of you," the master began,
"for being chosen to train within this sacred hall
to walk the path of the samurai."
"To become a samurai is one of the greatest callings a life can achieve.
My duty is to awaken the hidden strength that lies within you
to sharpen it, shape it, and forge it
into a power that protects this kingdom and its people."
He paused, his eyes steady, like still water.
"From this day forward, my purpose is to strengthen
the warrior that sleeps inside each of you."
After a moment of quiet inspection of every child, he continued:
"From today, I am your master.
I am Henso Shiranui, your guide and instructor.
As your sensei, it is my duty to forge you into samurai
not only strong in body and skill,
but unshakable in spirit and discipline."
He stood, his voice deep and resolute.
"From this day onward, you will walk a path of harsh and relentless training.
The journey to becoming a samurai is divided into two great disciplines."
He raised his hand slightly, counting each on his fingers.
---
1. The Training of the Body and the Warrior's Art
"In this stage, you will master the weapons of war:
The Sword (Katana)
Archery
The Spear (Yari)
Unarmed combat, and
The strengthening of your body and endurance."
---
2. The Training of the Mind and the Soul
"The next path will forge your spirit:
You will learn concentration of the mind,
balance of morality,
the way of the warrior,
discipline, and knowledge.
Only when your body, mind, and spirit move as one
will you truly stand as a samurai."
---
The hall remained still
the air heavy with purpose,
as the students felt the weight of destiny settle upon them.
After explaining his training methods and the rules of the dojo,
the master turned and walked out.
Even as he stepped beyond the threshold,
the students remained bowed, honoring him in silence.
Moments after his departure, the same woman returned to the hall.
"All students may leave now," she announced softly.
"Your training will begin tomorrow at dawn."
With that, she too departed.
One by one, the children rose, gathered their things,
and quietly left the training hall.
Their footsteps faded into the stillness of the courtyard.
Outside, beneath the wide shade of an old tree,
an aged man sat alone,
his calm eyes following the children as they emerged from the dojo.
From among them, one small boy broke away and ran toward him.
"Grandfather…" the boy asked, his voice gentle but curious,
"is the family of Satoshi… still alive?"
The old man's eyes shifted.
He looked around, as if the wind itself had heard the question.
A soft breeze stirred
and from somewhere unseen, a petal of sakura drifted through the air.
The petal floated down gently, landing before them.
The old man caught it in his palm.
For a moment, he gazed at it in silence,
as though hearing the voice of the past whisper through its fragile form.
Then, after a pause, he handed the petal to the boy.
"Satoshi… is still with us,"
he said quietly, looking into the boy's innocent eyes.
The boy stared at the petal for a moment,
then turned and began to run off into the distance.
"Wait… boy!" the old man called after him.
"What is your name?"
The child turned, smiling brightly.
"My name is Haru," he said,
before running off once more into the fading light.
The old man watched him go,
his lips moving softly as he whispered
"Haru…"
A faint smile touched his face,
as the last petal of sakura drifted past him in the wind.