Your support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)Katsuo had spent three, long years in the woods with his Sensei and had learned much from the wise, retired Samurai. Not only had they done through different styles of fighting techniques; but he had been taught how to hone his katanas perfectly so that they kept the razor sharp edge but did not grow any weaker in the process. He was taught how to better protect certain areas of his body that the armor had left unprotected; he was taught how to properly tend to his wounds and how to remove an arrow without inviting an infection. His Sensei had also helped him forge a set of katanas, a suit of armor that would allow him the ability to move quickly but surrender less protection, a nagista and carve an yew bow along with arrows. Needless to say it was a long three years, and it had not just left Katsuo toned and ready to kill but it left him with a yearning for his family, for the small village of Hiroto.
One day Katsuo approached his Sensei, bowing to him, "Sensei, I am most grateful for the past three years and for everything you have taught me; but now I yearn to go home and see what has changed for me."
"Very well Katsuo, depart and stay gone for as long as you like; but if you feel you need more teaching then I shall be here in this forest until I join my ancestors in our shrine." The man smiled softly to Katsuo and offered him a bow.
"Thank you Sensei, thank you for everything." Katsuo bowed once more, straightening as he began gathering his items. The armor was gathered in a sack, smaller patches of clothe around the armor to keep it from scratching the other pieces, while the Nagista, along with the bow and quiver were set upon his back and his two, new katanas on his belt.
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The forest was only a few days walk from Katsuo's home village Hiroto. As the old wooden palisades came into view, adrenaline began to pump and coarse throughout his body and caused him to forget the weight of his armor and weapons and rush up the hill side to embrace his parents, to flirt with the tea girls and fight his friends. However, as soon as he saw the rest of the village, he saw what had befallen it.
Heads and bodies were every where, or at least what the birds and wolves had left of them. Blood had stained the ground, and the screams had not left. The poor souls screamed out at him as he entered, or was that the wind. In the past three years, everything that he had held dear was now killed; dead; perished. In the middle of the town a white flag was risen, with a black dragon struck in the middle. He fell down to the ground, his body trembling. He knew of the Daiymo wars when he had left to find himself, but he never figured it would bother Hiroto; after all Hiroto was just a hunting village and nothing more.
One day Katsuo approached his Sensei, bowing to him, "Sensei, I am most grateful for the past three years and for everything you have taught me; but now I yearn to go home and see what has changed for me."
"Very well Katsuo, depart and stay gone for as long as you like; but if you feel you need more teaching then I shall be here in this forest until I join my ancestors in our shrine." The man smiled softly to Katsuo and offered him a bow.
"Thank you Sensei, thank you for everything." Katsuo bowed once more, straightening as he began gathering his items. The armor was gathered in a sack, smaller patches of clothe around the armor to keep it from scratching the other pieces, while the Nagista, along with the bow and quiver were set upon his back and his two, new katanas on his belt.
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The forest was only a few days walk from Katsuo's home village Hiroto. As the old wooden palisades came into view, adrenaline began to pump and coarse throughout his body and caused him to forget the weight of his armor and weapons and rush up the hill side to embrace his parents, to flirt with the tea girls and fight his friends. However, as soon as he saw the rest of the village, he saw what had befallen it.
Heads and bodies were every where, or at least what the birds and wolves had left of them. Blood had stained the ground, and the screams had not left. The poor souls screamed out at him as he entered, or was that the wind. In the past three years, everything that he had held dear was now killed; dead; perished. In the middle of the town a white flag was risen, with a black dragon struck in the middle. He fell down to the ground, his body trembling. He knew of the Daiymo wars when he had left to find himself, but he never figured it would bother Hiroto; after all Hiroto was just a hunting village and nothing more.