But these amusements would be short lived. As I grew out of the majority of my robes and away from my nurse, I began to be required to spend more of my time at lessons or training. I enjoyed the sword training, it seemed almost like a dance, despite the numerous times I tripped over my feet. But the lessons were boring. I realised the importance of being able to read and write, but it was harder for me to see the importance of reading Buddhist tracts and mundane government documentation on land rights. To me, growing up and becoming a lord did not require such details. Rather it would be days of constant fighting and horseback riding, as well as other active diversions. Adult life would not be full of days sitting in a cramped room doing paperwork.

There was constant strife in the imperial houses during this time. Private conflicts easily became public issues, and the lack of privacy induced a general situation of eavesdropping and blackmailing.

During my eleventh year, conflict broke out once more. This time it was between the factions of the imperial throne and their supporters. The arguments were not precicely clear, beyond the chronic jockeying for power, but the line between the two groups was drawn in dark ink. On one side was the retired emperor Toba and his son Emperor Go-Shirakawa, supported by Fujiwara no Tadamichi and Taira no Kiyomori, on the other was Retired Emperor Sutoku, supported by Fujiwara no Yorinaga. The entire Minamoto clan was split down the middle on this conflict, even within our section of the clan. My father was the heir of the Seiwa Genji, and he sided with Retired Emperor Toba and Emperor Go-Shikawa, but grandfather, the head of the Seiwa, called Minamoto no Tameyoshi, sided with Retired Emperor Sutoku.

Go-Shikawa's faction won in the end, and it was like a golden age for our family. I did not know Grandfather, so it made little difference to me when we heard that he had been executed. The only difference, I found, was that my father had been named head of the Seiwa. This meant two things for me, I had precedence over my playmates and could use it to make them grovel, and it meant we moved into a household closer to the imperial palace, and thus a new setting for our games.

As I reached my twelfth year, the capital opened up to me, and I came to understand the complexities of court life. My father took me around to the different officials to show off, we walked through the imperial gardens, and, as a young boy, I was able to gain glimpses of some of the court ladies. That was the year I received my first court title. At the time, I strongly believed it was due to my prowess at kickball, it was only later that I realized it was due to my connections to the imperial line and because of the political manuevering of my mother's family.

All was peaceful, at least relatively so, for a while as each group established themselves in their new position of power, or adapted to their losses. But things soon turned for the worst, and our position on the wheel of fate shifted once more. Only this time it was a much deadlier shift for our immediate family.

My father had recently taken a new, much younger wife, which my mother was not happy about. So she had decided to enclose herself in her rooms and not involve herself in family politics. A silent protest that I thought was somewhat ineffective, as my father found it quite easy to warm the cold bed she left behind. Regardless, this new wife proved ferile and soon became pregnant with you. I looked toward the arrival of a younger brother with both excitement and apprehension. Much as our father did. At that point he was already embroiled in the political arguments of the court and had little time to spare on his existing son, but he often stopped his work to coo over the rounded stomach of your mother. I was not amused, and had just decided to hate your existence, when you were born.

You were the ugliest little person I had ever seen. I even asked father if he was sure you had not been replaced by a goblin child by mistake, which earned me a well deserved smack, as well as a bout of roaring laughter. It had been a long time since my father had laughed so, and I was happy to be the reason he had, no matter how hard my cheek stung from the force of his hand.

After watching the futile attempts you made to crawl, and your absolute helplessness, as well as your inability to eat in a cleanly manner, I decided you were to weak to hate. I was somewhat bemused at your fascination with my hair. It was still long at that point, and it was your everlasting pleasure to grab it and tug. Once I had unclenched your surprisingly strong grip, I would inevitably find pieces of whatever you had eaten and other questionable substances in it.

When you were just four months old, it became obvious that our father had been even busier than we thought. Yet another women had birthed a son by him, this was our brother Noriyori. By this point my mother had returned to father's bed. But at the news of yet another sowing of his wild oats, she departed once more for her rooms.

You were still much more interesting a baby than he, at least in in my juvenile mind. You were always moving, your eyes bright and inquisitive as you squirmed in an effort to role over. You were never patient, if you were not squalling for your mothers milk, you were whining to escape her grip. Noriyori, on the other hand, was constantly sticking things in his mouth, and making himself sick. For a while it amused me to place random objects before him and watch his efforts to imbibe them, but it soon grew old and I returned to teasing you. It was a favorite game of yours for me to poke you with a stick and for you to grab at it as I waved it in front of your face.

In 1159, I had just turned fourteen, and yet another civil war broke out between the members of the imperial family. In this war there was newly crowned Emperor Nijo, supported by Taira no Kiyomori and Fujiwara no Nobuyori versus Nijo's father, Retired Emperor Go-Shirakawa, who supported by our father, Minamoto Yoshitomo and Fujiwara no Tadamichi. This time, we had chosen the wrong side to back, and the Nijo, but more importantly the Taira, were victorious.

These wider terms meant little to me as I was still confined to the household if not with an adult caretaker. To me, this year was only the year that I watched my father die.

It was supposed to be a lesson for the rest of the clan. We stood in the rain and watched as my father was allowed to kneel and recite his death prayer.

As the blade cuts swiftly through the wind

how the blossoms whirl,

disturbed from their places

by the passing of the sword.

As he finished, he reached up to fix his robe. It was at that moment that the blade slashed down and cut through his neck. For a moment, his head remained in place, but then it slid down suddenly to land on the ground before him, and his body slouched over.

I had learned by that point, how to stay silent and to hide my emotions behind a courtier's empty mask. But inside I vowed that one day I would see all the Taira dead.

That was a rare moment of stillness, in the coming days there was a flurry of motion. My mother, who I had not seen beyond court dinners, had also been killed. I say killed, but really she was forced to commit seppuku at the dishonorable death of her husband. I am sure she was bitter at this. You and I, little brother, would soon have followed, if one of the Taira ladies had not, on a whim, decided that she adored us and that it would be cruel to kill ones so young and innocent of misdeeds. Better to wait until they had committed their own sins, she said. This would not have meant much, if the words she whispered were not into the ears of Kiyemorie himself. At the time, she happened to be a favourite of his, and this is perhaps the only reason we have survived so far. One should never underestimate the power of pillow talk, nor the foibles of aristocratic ladies and women in general."

Finally he seemed to shake himself from his trance. His narrative had taken several hours, and I had already replaced the tinder in the fire pit twice. The moon was at its zenith, and in the distance a wolf began to sing. It was an eery serenade to his story, and he listened in silence. Finally he sighed and went over to his bed and lay down. There would be no more talking this night, nor for several more days. It seemed I had exhausted his store of words.

Now Sora, I see you peeking through that window. Didn't you know that I have eyes in the back of my head, and a magic tengu nose that can sniff out any listeners? The little girl giggles and disappears for a moment. She tumbles through the open door with grass stains on her knees and her hair happily tussled.

He winks at Kage, "Ahh so it's more stories you're wanting. What else am I good for except to sit here all day long and tell you stories? Never you worry, I'll never get tired of it and want a rest, but no..." he grumbles at her.

She laughs at him and again announces her desire for a story.

He looks at her suspiciously, "You are a kitsune in disguise, aren't you? Where is your tail little kitsune? Fine then. A story, a story about the tengu. Now let me see..."

"The tengu are part of the old stories. They are small beings with feathered wings and long prominent noses. Other stories describe them as monsters with sharp teeth and pointy claws, who knows, they could be both and neither. Sometimes they go around disguised as birds, other times as monks, and sometimes as small mischevious children. You never know if a tengu is around, who knows, maybe one of your younger brothers is actually a tengu and your mother is humoring him by pretending he is one of her own flesh and blood"

"Ouch! Woman, if you do not appreciate my stories do not listen! There is no need to whack a poor old man on the head."

"Poor old man, my foot" she mutters, "more like doddering old fool who does not know when to sit quiet and eat his noodles."

He ignored her and focused on the two young children."Harumph. Miserable old biddy. Now let's see. Anyways, a tengu is full of magic. If you ever happen to catch one, you must immediately demand its name, or else it will place a curse on you. They are not inately evil, so the curse will not be too bad, but still not pleasant.

"What kind of curse?" Sora interrupted.

"Oh perhaps cold feet at night for a week, or your noodles will taste like your least favourite vegetable for a month. Something like that" he smiled at her expression.

"A tengu is never where you expect him to be. They hide in cabinets and drawers, and in small shrines. But if you really want to find a tengu with a higher status, you should look in the mountains, for it is only the smaller household tengu that you find in cubby holes.

Tengu are very similar to birds, and many of the birds you see flying around the forest, are actually tengu. They are born in nests, just like chicks, and there meetings take place high up in the top-most branches of the tallest trees. You will never see a tengu fall, if one such awkward being exists, he would be put out of existence as an act of mercy.

They are fast little buggers too. They seem to appear and disappear in an instant, but I think they just move faster than the eye can see. The only time you will see a tengu for what they truly are is in your dreams, for that is how they communicate. Tengu walk the path of dreams with such skill that it seems as if they danced on the mist found there.

One of their most important characteristics, however, is their skill in the martial arts. They are masters at hand to hand and jujutsu. You will never win if you challenge a tengu to a wrestling match, and you will most likely receive one of the harsher curses as punishment for arrogance. But more importantly, at least for this story, is their skill with the sword.