Snow fell gently over the sacred peaks of Ringo. The land was quiet except for the sound of training. A young samurai Mamoru moved through the cold mist, body covered in sweat, breath visible in the freezing air.
The dawn sun rose over the gravestones of fallen samurai, its light barely cutting through the fog. Mamoru sprinted barefoot through the snow-covered paths of Ringo, the frozen soil crunching under each step. His breath came out in bursts of white clouds as he wove between rows of gravestones like a phantom.
The wind stung his face, but he didn't stop.
Every lap, he whispered under his breath:
"Faster… stronger… steadier…"
villagers watched from afar, whispering to one another.
"I've never seen him push himself this hard" one murmured.
"Yeah" another replied. "Must be the expectations of his father and Oden . Although he is a fool ,his strength is undeniable"
Days later
Mamoru ascended the icy trails of Ringo's mountains, his sandals long discarded. The climb was brutal sharp winds whipped through his robes, biting his skin. He carried a heavy boulder on his back, its weight forcing his body to tremble.
Halfway up, his legs gave in. He collapsed, gasping, face pressed into the snow. For a moment, silence. Then he grit his teeth, stood, and resumed climbing.
Each step felt like defiance against the mountain, against weakness, against fate itself.
From above, Ushimaru watched silently, arms crossed. A look of approval crossed his face
Days later
At noon, Mamoru trained beneath a great cedar tree. He lifted massive boulders some twice his size balancing them on his shoulders before squatting with slow, steady precision. His muscles burned, veins stood out against his skin, and his breath turned ragged.
Each motion was deliberate.
Each strain, a dialogue with pain.
"More ,More ,More ,More!!"
Days later
He stood knee-deep in a freezing river, the current thrashing against his body. Ushimaru stood on the bank, arms folded, watching his son fight the flow of nature itself.
Mamoru pushed forward, step by step, until the water reached his chest.The river howled around him, but his spirit didn't waver.
"In life you need the power to go against the world ,this river represents the world ,no matter how hard it pushes you need to push back harder . There will come times where you feel like you are constantly losing and the world is against you , but you cannot give up , you can never give up because thats an insult to all the people who believein you . You need to grab life by its ears and get up in its face !!!"Ushimaru shouted
Weeks passed. Mamoru now sparred with seasoned samurai from Ringo . Older, taller, faster ,they came at him with steel and fire.
He won some fights, lost others, but each battle carved him sharper.
His stance grew firmer, his breathing steadier, his strikes more precise.
When he lost, he bowed deeply to his opponent.
When he won, he bowed even lower with gratitude and humility for being given such the chance and not having to learn it the hard way in a life or death battle .
He earned the respect of many samurai not just as the son of Ushimaru the daimyo but for his own strength
Days later
One night, a group of rogue bandits attempted to desecrate the sacred graves. The young Mamoru, now more seasoned, drew his blade under the moonlight.
The snow glimmered as steel met steel.
Mamoru fought with calm precision, defending the graves with a quiet fury.
When it was over, the bandits lay defeated, the snow stained faintly red.
Mamoru stood still, panting, the moonlight bathing him in cold silver.
He sheathed his sword slowly and whispered a silent prayer to the fallen , courtesy to spending to much time with Gyomei .
The other samurai looked at him in awe . The scene etched into their memories. This would be the genesis of a legend , a samurai from Ringo who's sword swings are so fast they can strike you front and back before you even notice
Days later, atop the cold peaks of Ringo, Mamoru sat cross-legged in meditation. The wind howled around him. Snow gathered in his hair. He didn't move.
His heartbeat slowed until it matched the rhythm of nature.
Ushimaru stood leaning on a tree as he observed. He had a smile on his face , the smile of a proud father and teacher
They sparred after that when they returned ,steel against steel echoing across the peaks. The clash was intense ,graceful, almost like a conversation between master and student, between will and patience.
Four months passed like whispers in snow. Mamoru's body had changed ,leaner, stronger, eyes more focused.
Kozuki Oden the lord of the land of kuri ,danced wildly in the streets, half-naked and smiling like a madman, while the people laughed and threw insults.
Beside Mamoru stood Kin'emon, Raizo, Kiku, and Dogstorm, watching their lord with conflicted expressions.
Mamoru's eyes hardened .
"He's enduring it for something," he said quietly.
"Even if we dont understandat the moment"
The others turned toward him in silence, unsure how to respond. They to long believed so but for how long would he do it . Watching their lord ,the man they looked up to shame himself like this filled them with despair