Land of Iron.
Inside a plain but spacious estate, a young boy with a samurai topknot walked forward slowly. A long silver blade hung at his waist, far too large for his small frame, making one wonder how someone his size could even swing it.
"Taitō."
The boy knelt respectfully, forehead lowered.
Seated at the head of the room was a young man with brown hair, kneeling on dark green tatami. His posture was straight, his expression calm yet dignified.
"Taitō," Mifune said, his voice steady. "You've reached the age for your first journey. In all of the Land of Iron, there are very few your age who can match you."
Taitō straightened proudly, like a rooster that had won a fight.
"But you must be careful," Mifune continued, his tone turning serious. "Your journey won't be limited to the Land of Iron. You'll be stepping into the outside world."
He paused before continuing.
"The age of the samurai is fading. This is the era of shinobi. If you encounter a ninja… you must be extremely cautious."
Taitō scoffed.
"Ninja? A bunch of cowards hiding in the shadows. How could they compare to noble samurai?"
His voice was full of disdain, as if 'shinobi' weren't even worth mentioning.
Mifune said nothing.
He understood this phase well. Young men always believed themselves to be superior—especially gifted ones like Taitō. In all his years of training, Taitō had rarely met true resistance. The few shinobi he had faced were no more than genin-level fighters.
But experience could not be taught with words.
Only pain could temper a blade.
"I've planned your route," Mifune said. "You'll head to the Land of Grass."
Taitō frowned.
"The Land of Grass? Where's that supposed to be? I want to go to the Five Great Nations. I want to face the shinobi known as 'Kage.'"
Mifune didn't answer.
Taitō bowed and left, but anger burned in his chest. The feeling gnawed at him, restless, demanding release.
—
"Get lost, you freak! Stay away from us!"
A shout reached his ears.
Taitō turned and followed the sound.
Not far away, Yoriichi had been shoved to the ground again. The same boys from before surrounded him, laughing loudly.
"Hahaha! Little beggar!"
"No parents, no home huh!"
"Garbage!"
"I'm not a beggar!" Yoriichi shouted back.
"Yeah you are! Where's that old beggar you follow around?"
"Probably dead by now!"
One of the boys, Shinnobu, picked up a stone and hurled it at him. The others followed suit.
Yoriichi had nowhere to run. He curled up on the ground, covering his head as stones rained down.
"I'm not a beggar… Grandpa Ryōtarō isn't either… he's my grandpa…"
But when he said that name, his chest tightened violently.
Pain tore through him.
The person he loved most was gone.
Did that mean he really had no one left?
Tears streamed down his face.
From a distance, Taitō watched silently.
Scenes like this were common in the Land of Iron. Noble children stood above all others. Those without status had no place here.
But still—
Yoriichi…
You really are pitiful.
Shinnobu picked up the last stone and threw it hard. Seeing Yoriichi still refusing to beg stirred his anger.
"Why do you look so proud?! You're just a beggar!"
Fueled by jealousy, Shinnobu pushed aside the others and grabbed a bamboo sword used for training.
Even a practice sword could destroy someone if swung hard enough.
The blade bore the mark "Hirota"—proof of noble origin.
He lifted the bamboo sword and used the tip to raise Yoriichi's chin.
Their eyes met.
For a moment, Shinnobu froze.
Those red eyes…
They were terrifying.
What am I afraid of?!
He's a goddamn beggar!
Enraged, Shinnobu threw the bamboo sword at him.
"Pick it up!"
The others echoed his words.
"Pick it up!"
Yoriichi slowly reached out. His small, trembling hands wrapped around the handle. Even this light weapon was too heavy for him.
Blood trickled from his fingers—sharp stones had torn his skin.
Shinnobu grabbed another bamboo sword and raised it properly, both hands gripping the hilt.
It was a standard samurai stance.
The surrounding children fell silent.
He was serious.
Yoriichi tried to copy the stance, but his hands were too small. The sword was nearly as tall as he was.
"Ha."
Shinnobu stepped forward and brought the blade down.
Yoriichi barely blocked it. The impact sent pain shooting through his arms, almost knocking the sword from his hands.
Shinnobu pressed the attack.
He wanted to crush this boy's pride—to destroy him completely.
Just like his father had done to defeated warriors.
Break their blades.
Crush their dignity.
Burn everything they loved.
Yoriichi staggered backward.
He had nowhere to retreat.
No one would shield him. No one would carry him home anyways.
The wind blew softly.
And the boy... He stood alone.