Shinta has killed fifteen men, one for every year he's been alive.
Eighteen of their own soldiers have fallen to the earth, and there is a new attack every week.
They are one clan battling three others.
They will fight until no Kiyosato man woman or child is left alive.
The daimyo calls him into the main hall after the latest battle. Shinta barely has time to wash the blood from his face, change into a fresh set of clothes.
There is a flash of anguish in the old man's eye. An ember of determination.
"I had had this commissioned for Akira."
The daimyo is giving him a sword, the finest he has ever seen.
This sword destroys childhood, destroys Shinta.
His name is Kenshin now.
He is a samurai.