Scroll Three: The Challenge
"He came one morning and challenged the strongest student in our dojo. No one knew where he had come from, although the older students claimed that they could feel his strength. At the first glance, his sharp eyes and unnaturally colored hair caused me to flinch. But after seeing him fight, there was no doubt about it; he would probably end up becoming stronger than any of us."
~Nagai Yoshiburo, student at Shimotsuki Dojo
Morning cheerfully greeted the small village, which lay hidden in the dense woods that extended from the side of a mountain. It was not the best terrain for a human settlement, but the modest population had tried its hardest to make the land habitable and succeeded to an extent. The first of the sun's rays shone down on the wooden huts that looked as if a passing gale would demolish, but were in truth sound structures. Most of the inhabitants had awakened long before, specifically before dawn, and were going about their day.
From his position, the boy, an outsider, could view the entire community without turning his head. He kept to the cool shade under the crowds of towering trees, trying to keep out the sun. The blinding glare was a slight inconvenience for him, as he was slowly adapting to his new form. He stared at his petite hands before looking at his lean legs, all four limbs a new concept for him. Leaning against the rough trunk of a particularly bulky tree, the now-changed Imoogi closed his eyes to think back on the experience.
Pain encompassed all other emotions, feelings, thoughts. Only a second had passed since it initiated the transformation, yet already its entire body throbbed from the pangs, though, eventually, the excruciating sensations seemed perpetual. It thrashed uncontrollably in the dark waters, trying desperately to concentrate his will. Yet, it could feel its ki becoming wild and soon lost control; eventually, it was undergoing such drastic changes that it could no longer keep up with the transformation. No sounds would come out of his mouth, not that it would be so pusillanimous to cry out from the pain.
Luckily, the night brought darkness that was impenetrable and the coast was miles away, so the fear of someone watching was dissipated. Not that the emotion lasted for long; it was immediately consumed by the unpleasant discomfort that accompanied the transformation. Then, how much time had passed was unknown, it felt a pressure on its body, even though there was nothing but water in its surrounding. The possibility for the water, its own element, to exert such a force was unlikely, but it did not have enough time to dwell on this thought; the force on its body became stronger, and it almost felt as if it was being compressed. In the midst of all this, it felt as if something was growing out of his body, something it could not explain.
Before it knew what was happening, the transformation of its body was coming to an end, although the pain remained. At the final moment, it felt a sharp sting in its eyes, as if a blunt object was placed on top of them. Then, it was over. It felt its body fall into the ocean, the roiling waves engulfing the limp form. It noticed that additional pain thumped inside, this time near what it previously would have considered its midsection. This pain increased the longer it kept underwater; some instinct urged it to get up and swim to the surface. Awkwardly moving its body, it broke through the water and gasped, drawing in its first breath. The air was almost like a gift from above, the life-sustaining gas filling its new lungs. As it considered how this bothersome change would affect his movement in water, it found that it was unable to focus, and the black depths of its mind claimed its consciousness.
When he had regained his senses, he found himself lying on the floor of a modest hut that turned out to be located just off the beach; according to the owner of the home, a hermit, he had found his body washed up on the sand. He remembered the man calling him a boy, which amused him because the Imoogi had surely lived more years than the human; through this harmless label, he now knew that Yang overpowered Yin inside of him, thus deciding his gender.
It had taken him quite some time before he got used to this human form; no longer could he call himself an Imoogi, at least not until he undid the transformation and claimed his true form. He felt that the hardest part was trying to use his new appendages, something that he was completely unfamiliar with. In the waters, a simple twist of the body would get him far, but he soon found that such a method would be difficult if used on the land. Slowly, the boy learned to move his legs in a way that would not be awkward and strengthened his arms in order to make complete use of them.
Somehow, the hermit knew that he was not dealing with an ordinary boy and showed an endless amount of kindness and patience, helping him to effectively adapt. He gave the boy a set of clothes that had once belonged to his son; because of his small stature, the garments fit him perfectly.
During this time, the recently transformed Imoogi had to adjust to his new body, learning about the different needs that were required to take care of it. An interesting concept he found was food and water. As an Imoogi, even if he did occasionally eat the offerings from the people, it was never essential for him to consume other forms for energy; he could merely receive ki from his surroundings to support himself. Yet, the human body needed viands to restore strength, which he found to be slightly bothersome.
What surprised him even more was that, now, he had to drink water to replenish the liquid his body dispelled. In all of the years he lived, he never remembered depending on water as if it would decide between life and death, other than his need for concealment. Yet, the hermit revealed that, without the sacred liquid, his body would shrivel from dehydration, and he could soon lose his soul. He was not sure what this "soul" was, but he knew that without the water, he would not last long. And then, the ocean water was apparently unsuitable for consumption, even though the only difference between fresh water and sea water was the concentration of solutes.
Once he believed he was ready to set out, the boy gave his regards to the old man, thanking him for his hospitality. The hermit looked a little miserable when he heard the boy tell him his decision, but his intuition told him that it would be unwise to prevent the departure. So, giving him a pack of provisions, the man sent the boy on his way and watched until the lad was out of sight.
Reopening his eyes, the boy took another glance at the community before looking behind at the clear spring he had found before spotting the village. Taking his time, he approached the small body of water and peered at the reflection that the smooth surface provided. A small figure stared back at him, his stern face complemented by a tiny frown. The clothes that covered his body seemed a little worn, also a bit plain, but he knew he should not complain. Even so, he could not understand why humans insisted on hiding their bodies from others of the same kind. Were they humble or just embarrassed?
Still, it was nothing important, so he let the thought disappear in his mind. He turned his attention to the mass of hair that covered the top of his head, another thing that was new to him. Of course, his body once was covered with scales, but that was for protection against hostile factors. He could not comprehend how a small accumulation of thin filaments could act as the same. Perhaps it was just for decoration, something humans needed to increase their confidences.
He remembered how the hermit had stared strangely at his hair, as if there was something wrong with it. But looking at his reflection, he found that it looked similar to the man's hair, even if the pigment was different. Gazing at the mirror-like pool, the boy smiled a self-satisfied grin that reflected his contentment of the short, green hair. The coloring was the only thing that was related to his old self, the only reminder of his previous form.
Yet, the transformation came with a cost; by choosing to take the form of a human, the Imoogi had to give up the jewel-like eyes that were his pride. And it went a little deeper than that, for the color of his eyes was normally a pure black onyx; the crystal green hue was a gift from the elder Imoogi.
After helping to fend off a powerful enemy that threatened to conquer their pond, the silver-green Imoogi had suffered a serious wound that cut part of his ki channel, but the elder Imoogi allowed some of its ki to fuse into the wounded serpent, thus mixing its own energy with its younger counterpart. This led to a sudden change in the Imoogi's eyes, reflecting the dominant element of the given ki. He preferred the green eyes to the boring human ones, which interestingly was the same shade as his old eyes; he looked into the black depths that claimed a space in the surrounding white, such a clash of opposites. He would just have to get used to them, at least until his wish was fulfilled.
Turning his attention back to the village, the boy closed his eyes and concentrated his ki. It may have taken a day or two after the change, but he was finally able to regain control of his energy, though at first it startled him to find such drastic alteration in the spiritual pathway. He was used to it now, but he shuddered at the disorientation he felt in the beginning. Never before had he been so confused by his own ki, which should have been so familiar, as it was his identity. Still, this was bound to happen because an Imoogi and a human are essentially two different existences.
He searched for the energy that had led him to the village; almost like a resonating chime from a clear bell, he felt the waves of ki move around him. It must be a great power if he could sense it far out in the ocean. Such energy could only be emitted by a single source: a Yeoiju. Licking his canines, which were still as sharp as his old fangs, the boy could feel his excitement grow at the thought of his wish, at the thought of it coming true. All he had to do was find its container and take the jewel.
Then, he remembered the advice of the elder Imoogi and scowled. Not being able to use force could prove to be troublesome, but then again, he was unsure if his body would be reliable in a confrontation. He could not understand why his transformation turned him into a child and not a man, but it would be a waste of time to contemplate the cause.
Moving away from the trees, the boy left his hiding place and descended into the wakened village. He made his way through the homes, avoiding the curious glances that came his way as he followed the energy. Yet, he found the ki did not come from anywhere near the middle of the village like he thought it would. Instead, he had to leave from the other end of the settlement and go into another forest before he felt the energy coming closer.
It was a steep hill he climbed, and his legs were starting to tire out. Cursing the use of the worthless limbs, the boy continued his ascent until he realized that the land leveled out for a good amount of area before it sloped up again. And on this flat land was a large building enclosed within a sturdy wall with a ridged top.
Even if he had never studied the architecture of human-made constructions, the boy could tell that the design for this particular building differed from the other buildings he had seen at the bottom of the hill. For one thing, the homes in the village had slightly more rounded roofs while the roof of this one had sharp angles. Perhaps it was a difference in power that determined the layout of the human shelters, just like how each spiritual creature was ranked according to its strength and class. Yet, the boy could not help but feel as if there was more significance in the variation than mere status. Still, it did not concern him at all; the only thing he was interested in was the jewel.
The courtyard was impressive, though not just for its layout, but also for its sheer size. As he strutted towards the building, the boy noticed a strange group of wood vertically planted on the ground; what was odd was that a part of the objects were covered with some type of padding. Curiosity starting to enter his mind, he climbed up the stairs into the raised structure and slid open one of the doors.
"Hey! Where's the strongest person in this building? I need to have a talk with him!"
The soft padding of feet was heard coming down a passageway to the left; in the opposite direction, the boy heard a number of voices yelling in a back room, each cry corresponding in regular intervals. Returning his attention to the other noise, he looked up to see a swarthy man of great height staring down at him. At first austere, the man's features softened when he saw that it was only a boy he had to deal with.
"Welcome to our dojo, little one; I do not think I have seen you come here before. What business do you have with the Master?"
"Do…jo?" He could see that the youth had never encountered the word before, which was understandable.
"It is just our word for this building, our training place. From your confusion I can see that you are not a locale. Did you travel far to come here?"
The green haired boy thought about his journey that started from the lake. "I guess you could say that it was far, but nothing I couldn't endure."
The man watched as the boy grinned slyly to himself, his interest of the newcomer growing. "I see that you have much self-confidence. Still, I cannot imagine why you would want to see the Master," he caught the boy's eyes before continuing, "unless you are here to join our dojo."
The boy scoffed at the remark. "I'm not interested in something like that. Just let me see 'the Master' already."
"I believe you should learn to control your aggression, boy, or you will not set foot in this place." The man gave a look of disapproval at the green haired child, who merely glared back impudently. Before a quarrel could start, an amused voice came from behind.
"Calm yourself, Ishido-san. I will take over from here."
Both of the disputers turned to see another man, a bit more aged, standing with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. Long black hair was tied in a pony tail, leaving his kindly, spectacled face in full view. The boy noticed that he wore strange garments that differed from those he had seen the villagers wear, a sort of v-necked uniform made out of black fabric; a white, sash-like belt wrapped around his waist, separating the upper garment from the pants.
He stared at the man before asking. "Are you the Master?"
"Yes, I am the owner of this dojo. Why don't we go somewhere we can talk in private?" Going down the passageway, he led the boy into an interior room, away from the front. Two brown cushions lay on the floor, as if the two people were expected by the furniture. Once the guest entered the room, the Master nodded to Ishido and closed the door without a sound. Claiming the cushion further away from the door, the Master knelt down onto his lower legs, his back showing no signs of hunching over. The boy looked curiously at the sitting position before imitating the man. He found that it was not as easy as it looked, but he would not humiliate himself by changing his posture.
"Can I first have the honor of knowing your name? It just seems that it would be disrespectful to always refer to you as 'boy' or 'youth'."
The request was a bit unexpected; the boy had not prepared himself for such a question. With the spiritual creatures, names were unnecessary, as every being was identified by their individual ki. A simple glimpse of the energy flow was enough to recognize the entity because no two being had the same ki. Humans must use this method, instead, to distinguish each other; he did remember the elder commenting how not all of the people could sense the rich life force. It must be a pitiful existence if one could not even see their own ki.
He could see that the Master was waiting, but the boy found it difficult to come up with a decent name that would not sound too foreign. Then, he remembered looking through some of the weathered books while he stayed at the hermit's place, and decided that he would improvise.
"My name…is…Zoro. Roronoa Zoro."
"So, it is Zoro-chan whom I am speaking to. In return, I will properly introduce myself. My name is Koshiro, and I am the Sensei of this dojo."
Interest joined the puzzlement that was running through Zoro's mind. Not only did this man have a name that was almost as foreign as his, but he was also using terms he had never heard before. Keeping his head cool, the boy looked at the man straight in the eyes.
"Are you really a native of this land, or are you an outsider? You seem a little strange, different, from the others I have seen in my travels."
Koshiro smiled at the boy, amazed that he was able to discern this much, even though he was so young. "I see that you are sharper than you look, Zoro-chan. It is as you say; I am not a natural inhabitant of this country. In fact, a majority of the people who live in this dojo are what you call 'outsiders' in this land."
He paused to let the information register inside his listener's head. Doubt could be seen in those black eyes, but it looked like the boy wanted to hear more. "We used to live on an island many miles out in the sea. However, circumstances caused us to move out and try our luck in another land, one that would yield more crops and provide greater protection. In the end, we disembarked onto this country after facing much peril. Delving into the mountains, we asked for nothing but a small area of land where we could set up this dojo, our training place, so that our traditions and skills will be passed on."
"So, you weren't born in this place then?"
"No, Zoro-chan. Although some of the settlers did have children once we got here, most of the adults are descendents of a people who lived in another part of the world."
Zoro thought about what he had been told; in a way, he could relate to these people, though he did not care much about human territory or the groups they have separated themselves into. To him, and all of the other mythical creatures, people belonged to a single grouping known as humans, but such peculiarities were left alone, since they did not cause much harm. But he could not understand why the man was revealing everything to him. He looked at Koshiro, who was waiting patiently for a reply.
"Even if you aren't a native, why did you tell me your history? I mean, we just met a few minutes ago."
Koshiro continued to smile kindly. "From your reactions to this place, I could tell that you were confused. I was merely satisfying your curiosity." Zoro did not know whether he should be happy or annoyed at the reason. "Now, it is your turn to answer questions. Why did you wish to see me?"
"Heh, I guess I have no choice but to tell you, since you decided to trust me enough to give me your story." Staring defiantly at the Master, Zoro wondered whether the man would be able to handle his revelation. "I'll tell you the truth. I am an Imoogi who left his home in order to find a Yeoiju, the jeweled gift that is sent down from the heavens every five hundred years or so."
He waited for the wild laughter or the unbelieving gasp to come from the man. Humans were such dubious creatures, refusing to believe anything unless their eyes proved to them otherwise. The possibility of anybody accepting his story was slim. Yet, Koshiro did not show such a response; instead, he sat with a solemn face, no longer smiling, but not exactly hostile. It was almost as if he was scrutinizing Zoro, trying to decide whether what he heard was the truth.
One conclusion or another must have been made, for Koshiro relaxed again and addressed the boy. "So, what is the reason for your search of this jewel?"
"You really are a foreigner; you don't even know the legends. As an Imoogi, I need to get a hold on the Yeoiju if I ever want to become a 'Yong'."
"Ah, so you hope to become a dragon?"
"Yeah. Now where are your women?"
"We have many women in our dojo who have crossed over with their families. But I cannot see how they play a part in your wish."
"Well, the Yeoiju is said to be in the form of a female, a young girl. And judging by the amount of power the Yeoiju possesses, I suppose she would have to be really strong, too."
"So you are looking for a strong woman, is that it?"
Zoro thought about his answer before giving it. "Yeah, I guess that's exactly it. So, let me meet your strongest woman."
"I see you are eager to fulfill your wish." Looking at the crossing form just outside the door, Koshiro called out. "Ishido-san."
The papered, sliding door was opened by the man who first greeted Zoro. "Yes Sensei?"
"Please ask Kuina to join us."
"As you wish, Sensei."
It did not take long for the follower to come back, this time with the sound of another pair of feet. Zoro turned around to see a slender, young girl with black hair cut short, holding what looked like a wooden sword in her hand. So they teach swordsmanship in this dojo.
She only took one look at the boy before she approached the Master and bowed. "Father. Did you call for me?"
"I did, Kuina. Ishido-san, will you please leave us once more?"
Ishido gave a gesture of respect and went out of the room, sliding the door all the way. Nodding to his daughter, Koshiro looked into the boy's eyes. "This is my daughter, Kuina. Thus far, she is the most powerful woman, no, the most powerful pupil I have." Turning to Kuina, he addressed her in a firm voice. "This is Zoro, an Imoogi who has come to claim a Yeoiju, a powerful jewel that will enable him to become a dragon."
"Father, that has to be the most ridiculous lie either of us have heard. How do we know that this boy isn't trying to trick us and ruin our dojo?"
Zoro felt his anger rise. "Listen, girl. Unlike you humans, we spiritual beings have a sense of honor that we follow. I would never fall so low as to lie about my own dream."
"If you are an Imoogi like you say, why do I see you as a little boy and not a mythological creature?"
Not knowing how to explain, the boy remained quiet while giving a baleful glare at the headstrong girl. He could sense her ki flowing through her body; a strong energy it was, though it still seemed a little undeveloped. Like every living being, the five elements were present and circulating: Wood, Earth, Water, Fire, Metal. However, Zoro could see that the Earth ki overpowered all of the others, the golden yellow shining through the rest.
So she's predominantly Earth…no wonder she pisses me off. There's no way a predominantly Water like me could get along with her.
Looking over to Koshiro, Zoro could see that, unlike his daughter, he was predominantly Wood. His ki was also strong, stronger than Zoro imagined. Then again, he is the Master of the dojo.
"Let's pretend that what you say is the truth, then. Where are you going to find a Yeoiju?"
He looked at Kuina with disdain, but answered her question. "A Yeoiju is said to be inside the body of a human girl who exhibits a powerful life force."
"And do you mean to tell me that I'm the Yeoiju?"
"From what I can tell, yes."
Kuina thought for a second before continuing the inquiry. "So, what happens to the girl when an Imoogi takes out the jewel?"
Zoro shrugged. "I guess she loses her life, since the Yeoiju is basically her ki, her life force."
"And you think I would just randomly give up my life to some brat who shows up from nowhere?!"
He was unable to think of a quick comeback. It did seem like an unreasonable request when it was actually said, but what else could he do? "It's either me, or another spiritual being. Sooner or later, your ki will attract others who're looking for the Yeoiju."
She seemed taken aback, but was implacable as ever. "That's still not enough reason for me to surrender my life to you. Father, you should just throw this miscreant out of our dojo."
"Kuina, hold your tongue." For the first time, Koshiro seemed cross, his face no longer gentle as he looked at his daughter. "You know that we do not treat others with such shameful conduct."
Both Zoro and Kuina were surprised, but the girl submitted to her father's command. "As you wish, Sensei."
Nodding to show that he accepted the girl's response, Koshiro turned his attention to the boy. "I understand that as a mystical being, you must be impatient with our human actions. However, it looks as if Kuina will remain obstinate in her decision, and I am not one to force her to partake in something she does not wish to partake."
Zoro could see that he was about to lose the opportunity that was within his reach. He had to come up with a way to somehow convince both people in the room to allow him to claim the Yeoiju. Racking his brain for an idea, his eyes caught the wooden sword that was in Kuina's hand.
"What if I challenge you to a match?"
Kuina raised an eyebrow as she looked skeptically at the boy, while her father smiled with amusement at the boy's request. Lifting her weapon and pointing it at Zoro, she asked, in a mocking tone. "Have you ever held this kind of sword in your hands before?"
"…No, but that doesn't matter. How about this? If I win, you have to agree to give me the Yeoiju."
"And if you lose?"
The thought had never crossed his mind. "I don't know. I mean, I'm sure that I'll win."
"Don't be so sure of yourself." Kuina thought for a minute before catching her father's eyes. "If you lose, you have to promise to join our dojo."
"Heh, I'll agree to that. Don't feel bad when you lose, though."
"Same goes to you, too."
They glanced at the Master, waiting for his approval. Koshiro saw that both were equally stubborn, and that whatever he said would have no effect on either. "All right. I bear witness to Zoro's challenge for Kuina. If Zoro wins, Kuina will give him the Yeoiju. If Kuina wins, Zoro has to become a member of the dojo. Any other conditions?" He gave them both time, though neither added any more. "Okay then. Both of you follow me."
He led them down the hall and into a larger room, the place where Zoro had heard the shouts earlier. Inside were a number of people, all wearing the same type of clothing; most likely, the navy blue outfits were required uniforms for the apprentices. It turned out that the shouts were from the students of the dojo practicing their swordsmanship. Each person stood in formation, every weapon swinging down at once. It was almost like rhythmic synchronization, with all of the players following the others in perfect timing.
Yet, all other activities ceased when the three entered, curious eyes staring at the newcomer. One nod from Koshiro caused every person to move to the surrounding walls until the whole floor was empty, leaving space for the impending duel. Motioning to a barrel full of the wooden weapons, Koshiro addressed Zoro.
"Here are the shinai, the wooden swords that can be used for the duel. Once you choose your weapon, or weapons, please come to the middle."
Zoro stared at the crafted wood, the style and structure also different from the weapons he had seen the natives wield. Still, he might as well adhere to their customs. Grabbing a shinai in each hand, the boy approached the middle of the room.
Kuina was already in position, ready to begin. He could sense the calm intensity in her ki, which become more ordered, more controlled, but still forceful. Ignoring the change, he raised his own swords, though a bit more awkwardly than his opponent.
"Why did you choose to wield two shinai when you've never even used one in your life?"
"Shut up. Don't question my choice."
Koshiro raised his hand into the air. "The rules are simple. Whoever makes the first hit will be declared the winner. You may only use your weapons to strike the opponent; any other form of attack will be considered invalid. Now, give your respect to the opponent." Both Kuina and Zoro bowed to each other in unison. Judging that all was ready, Koshiro dropped his hand between the two. "You may begin."
As soon as the Master had moved away, Zoro charged at the girl, swinging his arms in a mad fury. Fierce blows rained down on the girl, with no sign of him letting up. Yet, each strike was either blocked or avoided by Kuina, who kept calm in the barrage.
The younger boys stared with open jaws, trying their best to follow the fight, though they had to admit that it was difficult to keep up with either of the fighters. Their admiration for the new challenger grew as time passed, awe filling their minds.
On the other hand, the older, experienced students watched with a solemn air, though they were also unable to tear their eyes away from the fight. They could tell that boy had a monstrous strength by the force he put in each swing. But, they were able to see that he lacked skill, that each attack was just a wild attempt to hit his opponent. He had neither grace nor dexterity, and most predicted a quick match.
No matter how many times or how hard he swung, Zoro found that his weapons always missed the girl. She was always moving out of the way, or knocked his shinai away. It was not that he was gaining fatigue, but it was starting to annoy him. He had expected an easy match, one he would win without doubt. Yet, here he was, unable to even get close to the girl.
Desperation started to take over his movements, which became even more disordered. Kuina noticed this change and knew that now was the time to strike. After another block, she swung the sword towards Zoro's mid-body. He saw it coming, though, and lifted his own sword to block. However, at the last moment, he saw that it was a feint, and that she was now raising the shinai over her head. He had enough time to react, but his reflex could not match her skill. He heard the sword descend, slamming onto his unprotected head.
The crash reverberated throughout the room, which became utterly silent as multiple pairs of eyes fixed themselves at one point. Nobody moved, nobody talked; only the sound of soft breathing could be heard. Then, slowly, the challenger dropped his swords and fell to the ground. The match was over.
Koshiro raised his hand once more and spoke in a clear, firm voice. "End of the match. The winner of the challenge is Kuina."
The humiliation from the loss was more painful than the lump he got on his head from the blow, although it did sting pretty badly. He was unsure of what he was ashamed of the most: losing to a human, losing to a female, or losing his chance of becoming a dragon. But it did not matter what the primary reason was because he had lost.
Getting back up, Zoro glared at his conqueror, who merely gazed back nonchalantly. "Looks like you've underestimated me and overestimated your own abilities." Placing the tip of the shinai on the ground, while still holding onto the hilt, Kuina continued. "So, what are you going to do now?"
As much as he hated to admit it, he knew that he had no other choice. To Kuina's surprise, Zoro bowed his head low to the floor. "I concede to your skill. I will hold true to my promise and join this dojo, if the Master will allow me."
He looked at Koshiro, who nodded in reply. "Our dojo is open to all, Zoro-chan. We are happy to accept a new member any time."
"Then I will stay here under your training, Sensei." He added in a lower voice that only the two people could hear him. "I will hone my skills until I can win against another match with you, Kuina. And until I can rightfully claim the Yeoiju."
Kuina smirked at the boy, entertained by his stubborn nature. "That'll happen only if you manage to win against me. Until then, have fun training here, because you'll probably be here for a while."
Zoro smirked back. "Don't count on it."
Smiling to himself, Koshiro started to head out of the room in order to arrange a room for the boy's stay. It will certainly be interesting to watch those two grow.