Chapter 1: To Forge a Weapon
Fire engulfed the straw-roofed huts. The flames licked the air as more fire-tipped arrows were shot into the night sky. Screams could be heard as shadowy figures dashed through the streets, leaving blood streaked men and women to die where they stood. Never before in his life had Ryo seen such bloodshed. His home was being destroyed before his eyes. All six years of his life were spent sheltered in this little village. Faces that he had seen every waking day, lay lifeless on the ground, blood pooring from lethaly made wounds. Grief shouted at him from the depths of his mind, but now his concern was for his mother and father. Where were they?
He searched the streets and dirt paths carefully, being cautious not to be caught by one of the deadly shadows. He stopped occasionally to hide as a terrified villager, someone he knew, ran by and was struck down by a swift dark figure who continued on to it's next victim. After what seemed like hours of searching, he found his father. He was knelt in the middle of the street, head bowed over the body of the person he cradled in his arms. His body shook as weeped. The flickering of the fire light illuminated the obviously dead person's face. It was a woman. To Ryo's horror he realized that it was his mother. She lye dead in his father's grief stricken arms. Ryo's eyes welled with tears, making him impartial to the dark figure approaching him from the right. It did not go unnoticed by his father however. His head rose to see his son, an attacker a few feet away from him. Placing his dead wife on the ground he snatched his katana from it's scabbard. Ryo watched as his father became a blur similar to the shadowy killers, and closed the thirty foot distance between them in seconds. It was then that Ryo felt the presence beside him, but as he turned to see the killer with his sword raised, a second sword slit across his abdomen and the man fell to ground. There stood Ryo's father, katana streaked in blood, over his fresh kill.
"Musashi!" came a savage cry to the west of them. Father and son turned towards the sound to see a group of the figures approaching. The large on in front continued to speak, "Are you ready to die as have your brothers!"
"You have betrayed us Miyami," replied Ryo's father, "you were our brother, and you betrayed us all. How could you murder those who treated you as family!"
The evil looking man let out a laugh which pearced the night, "They were weak, just like you Musashi. Treasure your last moments with your son."
He took a few cautious steps torward them, sword held at his side. Musashi had no intention of risking either of their lives. He grabbed Ryo by the back of his shirt and pulled him up into his arms, then speed away torwards the bamboo thicket on the outskirts of the village. Everything moved at a blinding speed to Ryo, but he managed make out the man still standing where he had been a moment ago.
As they reached the cover of the bamboo, Musashi slowed to a stop and placed his crying son on his feet. The thicket was at the crown of a hill that overlooked their home, and they both gazed back at the destruction of their most fondest memories. Tears made rivers down Ryo's cheeks and he wiped them away roughly, reddening his cheeks. His father knelt beside him, eyes still fixed on the blaze of the fire. "Remember this day son," he spoke in a saddened tone, "for it marks the beginning of your training. The way of the Azuma ninja will never be the same."
Musashi looked at his son, who stared back with intensity, not fully comprehending the weight of his father's words. Musashi stood and took his son's hand, leading him deeper into the dark thicket. "W-where are we going father?" Ryo whimpered.
"North," was his only reply.
And so they walked away, with their backs turned to their desecrated home. The fires were already beginning to ease. The two traveled on, hand in hand, traveling north towards the mountains.
Fire engulfed the straw-roofed huts. The flames licked the air as more fire-tipped arrows were shot into the night sky. Screams could be heard as shadowy figures dashed through the streets, leaving blood streaked men and women to die where they stood. Never before in his life had Ryo seen such bloodshed. His home was being destroyed before his eyes. All six years of his life were spent sheltered in this little village. Faces that he had seen every waking day, lay lifeless on the ground, blood pooring from lethaly made wounds. Grief shouted at him from the depths of his mind, but now his concern was for his mother and father. Where were they?
He searched the streets and dirt paths carefully, being cautious not to be caught by one of the deadly shadows. He stopped occasionally to hide as a terrified villager, someone he knew, ran by and was struck down by a swift dark figure who continued on to it's next victim. After what seemed like hours of searching, he found his father. He was knelt in the middle of the street, head bowed over the body of the person he cradled in his arms. His body shook as weeped. The flickering of the fire light illuminated the obviously dead person's face. It was a woman. To Ryo's horror he realized that it was his mother. She lye dead in his father's grief stricken arms. Ryo's eyes welled with tears, making him impartial to the dark figure approaching him from the right. It did not go unnoticed by his father however. His head rose to see his son, an attacker a few feet away from him. Placing his dead wife on the ground he snatched his katana from it's scabbard. Ryo watched as his father became a blur similar to the shadowy killers, and closed the thirty foot distance between them in seconds. It was then that Ryo felt the presence beside him, but as he turned to see the killer with his sword raised, a second sword slit across his abdomen and the man fell to ground. There stood Ryo's father, katana streaked in blood, over his fresh kill.
"Musashi!" came a savage cry to the west of them. Father and son turned towards the sound to see a group of the figures approaching. The large on in front continued to speak, "Are you ready to die as have your brothers!"
"You have betrayed us Miyami," replied Ryo's father, "you were our brother, and you betrayed us all. How could you murder those who treated you as family!"
The evil looking man let out a laugh which pearced the night, "They were weak, just like you Musashi. Treasure your last moments with your son."
He took a few cautious steps torward them, sword held at his side. Musashi had no intention of risking either of their lives. He grabbed Ryo by the back of his shirt and pulled him up into his arms, then speed away torwards the bamboo thicket on the outskirts of the village. Everything moved at a blinding speed to Ryo, but he managed make out the man still standing where he had been a moment ago.
As they reached the cover of the bamboo, Musashi slowed to a stop and placed his crying son on his feet. The thicket was at the crown of a hill that overlooked their home, and they both gazed back at the destruction of their most fondest memories. Tears made rivers down Ryo's cheeks and he wiped them away roughly, reddening his cheeks. His father knelt beside him, eyes still fixed on the blaze of the fire. "Remember this day son," he spoke in a saddened tone, "for it marks the beginning of your training. The way of the Azuma ninja will never be the same."
Musashi looked at his son, who stared back with intensity, not fully comprehending the weight of his father's words. Musashi stood and took his son's hand, leading him deeper into the dark thicket. "W-where are we going father?" Ryo whimpered.
"North," was his only reply.
And so they walked away, with their backs turned to their desecrated home. The fires were already beginning to ease. The two traveled on, hand in hand, traveling north towards the mountains.