( Journey begins :'3 ': Shadow Attack )
Finally, the evening arrived, bringing with it a meager portion of food. Haru found he could barely swallow the simple meal; the weariness had stolen his appetite, a common affliction among the tired recruits. Yet, knowing he must endure, he slowly forced himself to eat.
Suddenly, a commotion erupted from across the hall. Every head, weary but alert, turned toward the sound.
Three older boys were cornering a smaller, defenseless recruit, their voices harsh with scorn. They had deliberately swept the small boy's meager rations onto the dirt floor. As the victim tried desperately to salvage the food now mixed with the earth, the trio only continued their torment, shouting abuses and pushing him away from his only meal.
Haru moved instantly, pulling the fallen boy to his feet. The child began to weep, his face a mask of humiliation and distress. Haru sat him down, offered what comfort he could, and silently pushed a portion of his own meager rations toward him. The three bullies watched the exchange from a dark corner, their silence a promise of future trouble.
Later, as the hall settled into a fitful, exhausted silence, the small boy crept closer to Haru where they lay on the mats.
"Thank you," the boy whispered.
"For what?" Haru asked.
"For helping me earlier, for standing against them. No one else moved; only you. Only you cared." The boy then pressed a tiny, intricately carved wooden pendant a locket into Haru's hand.
"What is this?" Haru asked, examining the small token.
"My father gave it to me," the boy replied, forcing a small, fragile smile.
"But why give it to me?"
"Because you showed me compassion today when no one else would. You were the only one who truly saw me. I felt you should have it." He spoke with raw, desperate innocence. "I am Jinzo."
"I am Haru," Haru replied.
"And I am Sai." Sai's voice startled them as he quietly padded through the darkness to join their small circle.
Thus, a bond of friendship, a small sanctuary in the vast, cold Dōjō, was forged that night. They talked in soft whispers, sharing secrets and strengthening their kinship through hushed laughter.
"Why did you truly decide to become a samurai?" Sai finally asked, looking at them both.
"For me, it was not a choice, but an obligation," Jinzo muttered, the earlier fear still lingering. "So, you have no desire for this path?" Sai pressed.
Jinzo slowly shook his head. "I fear the fighting and the bloodshed. All I truly wish is to be back with my family."
Haru clapped Jinzo lightly on the shoulder. "Do not despair, Jinzo. My father told me that some choices feel bitter at first, but later turn sweet. You must not regret the commitment you have made."
"Then why did you choose this life?" Sai directed the question back to Haru.
"I... I want to become a powerful samurai, like the legendary Satoshi," Haru declared, his voice firm with a sudden fire. "A warrior so formidable that his enemies tremble just at the sight of him. I must be as strong as he was."
"No one can become like Satoshi, Haru," Sai interjected, his tone skeptical.
"I can. Through my training, I will achieve it," Haru insisted, his conviction sharp.
"Never," Sai countered. "You cannot match him, Haru. It is said Satoshi was more than just a samurai; he possessed strengths far beyond those of a normal man. We cannot attain that."
Haru gazed up at the high, dark ceiling, the shadows concealing his expression. "I can. I will be like him."
Jinzo turned to Sai. "Why are you here?"
Sai shrugged, a touch of melancholy entering his voice. "It was my father's greatest wish for me to become a samurai. So I came."
melancholy entering his voice. "It was my father's greatest wish for me to become a samurai. So I came."
After a final few whispers shared in the oppressive dark, the three new friends Haru, Jinzo, and Sai lay down on their sleeping mats and surrendered to the sheer exhaustion of the day.
The deep night quickly devoured the village, concealing the world outside the Dōjō walls. Under the cloak of darkness, the place lost the gentle beauty and feeling of safety it possessed by day. The village was no longer a sanctuary; for beneath the silent shroud of night, something ancient and sinister had begun to hunt the land.
Under the deep shroud of night, something ancient and terrible slipped past the village boundaries. It stalked the empty lanes and shadowed houses, searching with merciless intent. Within the walls of the Dōjō, the young recruits Haru, Sai, and Jinzo slept soundly, unaware of the peril creeping near.
Outside, the village roads were drowned in shadow. Beneath a massive tree, the old man, who watched over the Dōjō, lay resting. Suddenly, his eyes snapped open, surveying the perimeter. He knew instantly that danger was upon him; a chilling, unnatural cold had permeated the air.
He slowly rose to a low, patient kneel, his eyes fixed on the Dōjō's gate. He sensed a powerful, supernatural energy swirling around him, the patience of a veteran predator.
Then the strange wind returned, a chill gust carrying spectral Sakura petals that drifted toward him from nowhere. He caught one petal in his strong, weathered hand, gazing at it for a long, silent moment. A single tear, heavy with memory, traced a line down his aged cheek.
Suddenly, the threat lunged. But before the unseen attack could touch his flesh, the old man's left hand shot out and caught the assailant.
It was a spirit, yet it held the terrifyingly perfect form of a man. The old man's grip tightened around its neck a strength that was utterly unnatural for his age.
"I expected you would return to this place," he rasped, and with a terrible effort, he hurled the spirit down toward the ground.
But the phantom did not strike the earth; it dissolved into the cold night air, vanishing without a trace. The old man whirled around, searching, but the spirit's oppressive presence was gone.
"I also expected you would be here, Haruto."
The spirit's voice echoed from a branch high in the tree behind him. Haruto spun, but the branch was empty.
"You are still strong, Haruto..."
The voice came again, unnervingly close, right at his back.
Haruto turned instantly, but the spirit was faster. Its spectral hand clamped around his neck. The old man, weakened by decades of time, could not muster the full force to break free.
The spirit began to draw the very essence from the man's body his soul, his life force. Haruto's old frame began to glow faintly blue as his vitality drained away. Simultaneously, the spirit's form solidified, its human shape becoming frighteningly vital and robust once more.
The spirit consumed the last of Haruto's life.
As the old man's struggle ceased, the strange, ethereal wind flowed toward the rejuvenated figure. The current gently stroked his dark hair. He raised his eyes to the clear, indifferent moon hanging high above, and moments later, dark clouds surged forward to consume the full light.
A small, cruel smile of absolute satisfaction spread across his lips.
He then dissolved and vanished into the deepest shadow.
Haruto's lifeless body slumped onto the cold earth. The ethereal wind flowed back, bringing with it not just a few, but a heavy, swirling storm of Sakura petals. They descended upon the body, enveloping it completely. In moments, the old man's mortal remains were completely hidden beneath the blanket of pink and white, disappearing as if he had never been there at all.