He almost despared for a moment, but then he remembered. There was a sword, he had seen one. Granted it was in his dreams, but he knew it existed. It was at the top of a large waterfall, impenetrable unless one climbed up the slippery edge with the warer roaring down on you. But she was worth it.
So he climbed. Once small ledge at a time until his hands were torn and bleeding, and he was almost deaf with the sound of the water in his ears. Until there was only a foot left. The final challenge. There was no place to grasp and pull, only a chasm in the rocks between him and the next step. If he slipped... but no, he coud not think it. He had to make it.
Taking a deep breath and sending his prayers up to kami. He leaped.
Al the children held their breath as the old man paused for a moment.
"I do not know if I could have made such a leap in my youth" he told them, "Could you?" The children nodded fervently, sure of their own strength and bravery. "Hnn" he sighed, "So confident...
The young herd boy made it of course, and he got his magic sword. For it was magic of course. Magic of the greatest kind. No it would not split boulders or spew fire, for what kind of idiot wants a sword like that? It was a sword that would always give confidence to the wielder and never let him die without honor. A truly great sword, the likes of the great killer of demons, but of course that is a story for another day. Don't try and distract me" he glared in mock anger. "Now, I think it is time for you younguns to finish off the chores of the night, eat the delicacies your glorious mother has prepared for us, and off to bed." The children groaned and shuffled there feet. "Stories are always better after we have time to mull over parts of it" he told them sternly. He could tell they were getting tired, not from anything obvious as none were willing to show it, but the gradual glossiness in Sora's eyes did not need words.
As I lay down on my worn tatami mat I thought back to the dream of the night before. That clear night of the full moon. I was there too. I had been a sleep a little ways off in a small natural cave, but the sounds of the voices had awaken me. I was just reaching for my sword, when I heard his last words. I did not come out for a long time after that. I knew he was prepared for his death, he had told me that it was his time, and if he did not find it, he was prepared to go out and seek it. This was natural, and I was not broken down with it. True it was sad to part after such a short time, but he had lived an honorable life. I had merely hoped he would allow me to be his second. But it seemed he had expected this newcomer.
The next morning all the children were up early, eager to finish their chores and get back to the story. They wanted to know what happened next.
"So, you have returned" the old man sighed. "Well then. Shall we begin again?
The young herd boy had found his sword. Now all he needed to do was learn how to use it. Of course, he had no one to teach him besides the sheep and the stream, and his own willingness to learn. But he was strong of heart, and he picked up the sword. His stance was not perfect, and his grip was not strong at first. But he spent the hours that he would normally have spent gazing at clouds, practicing and practicing, until he had developed a form that, while not the traditional art of the sword, it worked for him. Many a day and many a night one could see him flowing through katas and slashing at shadows. He would build up speed until he almost seemed to flicker between spaces and all that was apparent was a flash of silver and a whisp of blue cloth.
While this intensive training was going on, the princess had remained shut tight in her rooms. The evil king had dragged her there and told her blatantly that she would never escape. That she would remain there forever, weaving clouds for him, and she would never see her young herd boy again. Not if she cried forever, nor if she lived for a thousand years. For the evil king had stopped any possibility of crossing the once tiny Milky Way.
To prevent their happiness and to ensure that the weaving princess staid with him and continued to focus on her work, he had flooded the Milky Way. Pouring more and more of the special star water into it by diverting the water from elsewhere. This meant that, not only did he dry out the rest of the sky in his selfish maneuver, but also that the small stream became a vast and deep torrent.
So the princess soaked her work in tears and the herd boy pushed himself continuously to better, faster and sharper. And at the same time they were both longing to be together.
Finally, yes finally you impossibly impatient little chipmunks, finally the herd boy reached the point of completely mastering swordmanship. He felt he was ready. But when he reached his old pastures near the Milky Way, he did not find the small stream he expected.
'Warriors do not cry' he told himself. So he set to immediately building a bridge, but the only wood to be had, was from a sheltered grove of cherry trees. Now, as everyone knows, one does not carelessly go around killing trees. You might upset the kami inside, and then where would you be? More trouble than it's worth, let me tell you that.
Sometimes we forget the benefit of simply asking," the old man stated blithely, pointedly not looking at the pair of boys who had snitched a treat from the kitchen earlier.
"Sometimes the kami will respond to such politeness and give many gifts, or just the right gift. When the young herd boy merely asked the kamis, what he should do, and told them of his plight, a shower of branches fell. But they were not the old and dry branches he would have received if he had proceeded to chop up the grove. Instead, they were the perfect lengt and just the right blend of strength and fluidity, that his bridge was quickly built.
He crossed the bridge in the deep of night, carefully, oh so carefully, walking on the pads of his feet so as not to disturb the castle's guards. But, foolish boy that he was, he forgot that his sword shone like the stars. So as he slipped the hilt free of its sheath, it sent out a light so bright that it told all someone approached. He was caught. Two guards stepped out of the shadows of the castle wall and demanded his business, for he did not look at all like the small herd boy the king had known.
Fortunately for our hero, not all were loyal to the evil king. Some did not approve of what he had done to the princess, and these guards were such. They took him into the castle, but instead of leaving him in chains, to rot in the dungeon, they took him up to just outside the princess' rooms.
All would have been well and the two young lovers safe in the neighbor kingdom, if the evil king had not had a sudden urge to check in on his fair prisoner and to gloat over her beautiful weavings.
The door banged in, surprising the two. But the young herd boy, now a trained warrior, was quick to unsheathe his sword. The king was no match for him, he was younger and faster, and the old king had not kept in practice, too used to the paths of the shadows as the means towards power.
With a sudden reversal of his blade, the young warrior cut the king's head from his shoulders.
This freed the princess, but both of them realised that they had responsabilites. So the princess spends her time happily weaving just the right amount of clouds, and the boy continues to watch over his herd, still practicing his katas, but less desperately now. And once a year, on a special night, they put down the responsabilities and meet at the banks of the Milky Way, underneath the grove of cherry trees.
The old man stopped and gazed down at his young audience. Many of the smallest had drifted off, even Sora. They had again rushed through lunch and their afternoon chores to hear the story, and now twilight was beckoning them to their beds.
"Ahh to be young and without cares," I thought to myself as their mothers gathered them up and tucked them in. The elder children drifted away to various other entertainment. Only the smallest of that age remained. He was a sharp child, and used his intelligence to survive among his bigger kin. But his eyes were always somber, serious, as if his soul was already old. This one's karma is nearly full. He waited silently, letting the light from the lanterns flicker over his face without breaking the silence.
"So Kage," for that was his name, "what did you think of the story?" I asked him seriously. I always talked to him as if he was an adult. How else would one talk to an elder soul, after all?
"It was acceptable" he said, after pondering a few moments. I smiled, such a large vocabulary wrapped in the innocence of any possible insult within his words.
"What would you like to hear?" I asked him. I was curious how he would answer, with his mixture of ancient wisdom and childish naivete.
"Tell me a story of something important" he commanded, "something that has happened." I blinked, surprised. Just how perceptive was this child? Could he see into my dreams. For they were both important in the eyes of the government and hopelessly sad.
My eyes drifted closed without my notice. I could almost see it. My first view of the capitol when I had approached with the scroll commanding my participation in the armed forces.