(Author's Note: Here is the re-cap that I said I'd get to eventually. Sorry about the wait. Please review, I need to know where I'm doing right/wrong/etc.)

Chapter 3 - The Sword

The sun was on its way down towards the western horizon, but still several hours remained before twilight. The warrior upon his horse trotted slowly, enjoying the beautiful afternoon. He was early on his way back to the Mountain, so he spent some time just enjoying the peace and quiet. The era of warring made that such moments of peace were rare, and the warrior enjoyed it greatly.

As he rode onward, he saw an auspicious place where there was built a shrine of the Buddhist faith.

There were many kinds of prayers in these days. The Shinto prayed to their ancestors, the missionaries, who preached the Christ-God wherever they went, prayed to His mother and the saints, and the pagans prayed to the gods of their fathers. These prayers were for many things, both mundane and essential, corporeal or heavenly.

For the young warrior, who walked the path of Buddha, prayer was a time of reflection. He did not find the faith of others to be inferior or the cause of mischief, but he had found the path of enlightenment through the Buddha, and chose to follow that path.

The warrior checked his horse, tying the reins to the branch of a nearby tree. Removing his horned helmet, the warrior then knelt at the shrine and began this chant.

"Amida, in thee I take refuge. Ocean of Oneness, Eternal Life and Light; Entrusting with mine whole heart and mind in thy Primal Vow; I am empowered by thee to live a full, Compassionate and creative life. I dedicate myself to the service of all beings, striving to help others realize their potential and Enlightenment. May your teachings guide me throughout the day, in my relationships, work and play."

The warrior then concluded with the words "Namu Amida Buddha." He bowed again, placed his helmet upon his head, returned to his horse and galloped back down the path he had left for the moment of meditation.

Twilight was at hand. The warrior was upon the borders of his land. For some reason, he had not encountered any of the warriors who often patrolled their borders. This was most unusual, for it was common for a clan to guard their borders, especially during this time of war.

Suddenly, he checked his steed. He sniffed the wind, sensing something different upon the soft gales of the forest.

Smoke.

He urged his horse onward, kicking his heels into the flanks of the beast roughly, sending the stallion off into break-neck speed. He rode in the direction of the smoke, until he found himself riding through a haze of it while darkness settled upon the earth.

It was worse than he could have imagined.

The entire village was in flames.

He rode on harder, not even bothering to think about the strength of his horse. Once he had ridden through the broken fortifications of the Manji village, the horse gave out in exhaustion, throwing the rider to the ground.

The loud neighing of the wearied horse gathered the attention of those who rode through the burning village.

Men in armor and on horseback rode towards the warrior and his fallen horse. They were armed as well.

The young man noticed they all bore the sashimonos of the Oda clan.

"Our master sends his regards." one of their captains said, dismounting off his horse.

The young man reached for his sword and drew it out, his hands shaking as he clenched the hilt.

The captain took out his own katana and brought it perpendicular with his stance.

They lunged at each other, exchanging blows as fast as lightning. The captain wore armor, which made his moves a breath slower, but the young man was exhausted. Neither were a match, but nor could they best their opponent.

Just then, a loud shot sent the young man to his knees. One of the mounted Oda soldiers held an arquebus in his arms, the barrel of which was pointed at the youngest of the fighters and still smoking.

In one swift motion, the captain brought his blade down to rest at the neck of the defeated warrior.

"What have we done?" the young man asked. "To deserve this slaughter..."

A smile flitted across the mustached face of the captain.

"Nothing." was his answer.

There was a swift motion of the blade.

A flash of blood.

And the young man let out a cry of pain, falling to the ground. His left hand grasping futily at his right shoulder.

The arm, about half-way above the elbow, had been cut off.

"Kill me," the youth said, gazing up at the man who took his arm.

"You did a very dishonorable thing by rejecting the offer of our master," the man said with a chuckle. "Why should we show honor to you?"

The warrior roared out in anger, pain; whatever kind of all-consuming rage that was close to the sensation of the loss of his arm.

One by one, the Oda warriors departed.

"COWARDS!" he cried out after them.

Even as he did, his eyes grew dim. The loss of blood was getting to his head. The smell of smoke filled his lungs and the heat of the fire was all there was to cool his chilled forehead.

The last thing he saw was a dove flying in the sky directly above him.

Then he saw no more.

Slowly his eye-sight returned, and he found himself lying under several charred boards that had been propped up as a kind of shelter. Next to him he saw a little girl and beyond her, two bodies lying prone.

"Where am I?" he asked.

"Still in the village." the little girl said.

The young man rose to a kneeling stance. The pain was gone, the glare of the fires had died out. He wanted to believe it was all a bad dream. He couldn't even feel pain in his right arm.

But it was much worse than just a dream. There was no pain because there was no arm: it was now wrapped in a white cloth turned red with blood. The fire was gone, but the blackened ruins of the village was all that was left.

And those two bodies...

"The old man clings on to life, but only just..." the little girl said. "And the woman..."

The young man clawed his way with his left hand over to the bodies. He did not see the face of the man, for his attention was on the woman, whose face, aside from a few stains of black soot, was ashen white.

The woman, who was the love of this young man's life.

Iga would never be united with her husband-to-be again.

Just then, a voice murmured something from just beneath the young man. The old man was coming to life, his breath hard and scarce.

"Sensei?" the young man asked, for he saw the face of his master within the broken old man who lay beneath him.

"My son," he said, his voice now faint and almost distant. "Do not seek vengeance. The Oda...he was searching for something. But it is not here...and it will never be his."

The old man then reached out of his robes and pulled out a long tachi.

"I cannot have this," the young man said.

"Take it!" insisted the old man. "You are the last survivor of this clan. Take my sword..." The old man then reached out with the last of his strength and seized the young man by the back of his hair, so that he was looking at him. "...with your word to never wield it against another, except in the cause of justice."

The young man nodded.

"Good," the elder said, relaxing his grip on the young man. "I am at peace. I know you will not dishonor us...Yoshimitsu."

The old man smiled and closed his eyes.

It was very peaceful.

But for Yoshimitsu, there was nothing but pain. His heart was paining him as much as his arm was. Long tracks of wetness were well-worn on his cheeks from the tears he had shed.

"He is at peace now." the girl said.

"Why?" he asked. "Why did this happen?"

"The Oda are not an amicable clan," the girl said. "Their leader is a power-hungry madman. Those soldiers arrived around the village the day after you left."

"He had no intention of letting us go if we didn't accept his 'offer.'" Yoshimitsu said.

"I don't think that was the only reason he sent his soldiers to the village." she asked. Yoshimitsu saw the little girl's hand reach up and touch something on her neck.

"Why?" he asked. "What other reason could they have?" She said nothing, only looking pensively out into the West.

He put his left hand on her shoulder and turned her around to look at him.

"Answer me!"

"They were after the Sword of Heroes!" she said, almost sobbing.

He relaxed his grip on the girl's shoulder and pondered.

The Sword of Heroes. He had heard of the legend millions of times before. It went under different names in various parts of the world. Various tales and histories, wars and struggles had been waged seeking this ultimate sword. The legends told that the sword gave its possessor ultimate power, a prize desired by everyone from the greatest kings and despots to the lowliest of peasants.

"Where is it?" he asked.

"You cannot seek the Sword of Souls, Manji-tou." she said. "It is the path of damnation."

"What good is a soul in a world such as this?" the warrior asked. He then noticed the way the girl kept looking off into the west and running her fingers upon the amulet at her neck.

"You know where it is, don't you?" he asked. "Tell me where it is."

She gave him no answer, but instead started walking off on her own. Baffled, the warrior picked up his sword, sheathed it, threw a helmet haphazardly onto his head, stuffed a tattered and blackened Manji-tou sashimono under the crook of the stub of his right arm and ran after her.

"Just where do you think you're going?" he asked.

"Back home." she said.

"And where is that?" he queried. "China? Arabia? Europe? Soul Edge?"

"You are in no condition to follow me." she said.

"And you're in no condition to be going anywhere by yourself." he said. "You're just a child."

"I'm much older than I look." she said with a smile.

"Still, you need someone to protect you." he said.

"A one-armed samurai will protect me?"

"I'll learn to fight with my left hand. I'll give my life before I let anything bad happen to you."

She giggled.

"As you wish, but I cannot let you go with only one arm." She then pointed to the south-west. "Let us go to the city of Osaka. The monks of Ishiyama are friendly to strangers..." She then looked Yoshimitsu over with a nervous glance. "At least they have no love for the Oda."

"What does that mean?" he asked.

"They do not recognize the rule of the samurai." she said. "It would be dangerous, however..."

"What now?"

"What we need is a carpenter."

"We can find those anywhere."

"No, a skilled one." She then reached into the small sack that hung from her side and took out a roll of parchment. Yoshimitsu picked it up and opened it up. The words made no sense, for they were in a foreign script and written backwards. The drawings, however, were of the human body, showing how muscles moved and how to replicate their movement with the appropriate machinery.

(One thing I want to ask regarding the story structure: do you want me to pace the chapters by which time period they are in - I.E. odd chapters in Tekken-universe and even chapters in Soul Calibur-universe - or should they be entwined with each other as with the second chapter? Please make it known in the reviews)