When the caravan finally arrived at Mirumoto Mountain, Ryuhitsu helped his family deliver the goods the Mirumoto had ordered, and then prepared to make the trek to the Mirumoto Bushi School. His guide was another young man, a Mirumoto who was beginning his second year of training, and whose first response to Ryu's size was laughter.
"YOU are expected to train at our school? My little brother is larger than you!"
Ryuhitsu tried not to listen to the boy, and certainly could not insult a boy whose father, unlike Ryuhitsu's, was a real samurai. Like many times before, Ryu just hardened his heart and strengthened his resolve.
The night before Ryuhitsu left, his father called him to his wagon. Ryu had no clue what to expect from the odd man, as he was not going to wish him farewell until the next day, and entered the wagon's sleeping tent with some apprehension.
When Ryuko opened the flap of the entranceway, the caravan master spun around and grinned, "Here, my son! Here, I have something to give you!" Peering into the darkness of the tent, Ryuhitsu could see a glint of metal and the reflected image of the candle that poorly lit the wagon's interior. Ryu hurried over to his father and bowed. "What is it, father?" he asked.
From beneath his chair, Hatemushi retrieved an exquisitely-forged katana. Its blade was obviously of great quality and sharpness, and the pommel was tipped by a carved image of a scowling dragon. The dragon fascinated Ryuhitsu; its mouth was lined with tiny teeth carved from real animal bone from gaijin lands, its eyes were made from red gems that appeared to be rubies, its chin held a tiny pearl, and its nostrils contained small blue stones Ryuhitsu had never seen before. The dragon's head was covered with what appeared to be tiny, finely detailed tongues of flame.
"A blade of heart's fire for my little Dragon of Flame," said Hatemushi, smiling, "I know that since I technically am a peasant, I am not supposed to have weaponry, but I was able to call a few favors to have this made." Then he sighed, and a look of regret, mixed with a little happiness, crossed his face. "Our family has never had an ancestral sword. Now that one of us is to be a samurai, I think will need one from now on. Take it."
Hatemushi offered the blade to Ryuhitsu, who, eyes as wide as teacups, took it with great reverence. Ryu waved the blade, still sheathed, clumsily around in the air. This was done with some difficulty, but it was obvious the katana had perfect balance. Hatemushi smiled slightly at his son, and said, "I think it is a little large for you... do you still like it?" Ryuhitsu, stunned, could only mumble a feeble "Thank you."
Hatemushi smiled. "Good. Now, why don't you wear it in your obi so I may see what a fine bushi you make."
Ryu nodded, and slowly slid the blade into his belt. The dragon's ruby eyes seemed to glow, and its face pointed towards his father. The dragon seemed to be watching over him.
Doji Mareko woke with a start. She was certain she heard someone scream. Then she looked at her husband, the Crane diplomat to the Emerald Court, asleep in his own tatami and realized it was just a dream.
Yes, such an inhuman scream could be only a dream.
She silently stood and slipped on her sandals. "A walk in the garden will calm me," she silently reassured herself. With the grace of her clan's namesake, she moved to the rice-paper door of her home, and silently left the room. Outside, the garden was dark. Lord Moon had retired from chasing Ameratsu for the night, and only a few pinprick stars provided a dull light. The night was warm, but every few minutes a cold, biting wind would sweep through the opulent and exotic plants of the so-called "Fantastic Garden", causing Mareko to shiver in her kimono. She bent down next to her favorite flower bed, a beautiful patch of irises that she personally had worked every year to bring to bloom, much to the chargrin of herhusband.
She laughed, and whispered his scolding words, "A noble lady such as yourself should not work in the dirt and mud. We have gardeners specially trained for - OH!"
Mareko was interrupted by the silent appearance of a Tattooed Man before her. Startled, she shook her head and looked back up. Laughing nervously, she said, "Mizujin-san, you should not scare me like that."
The Ise Zumi made no reply other than flashing her a toothy grin.
"Mizujin-san, it is sometimes considered impolite to not answer," she scolded.
Then he laughed a deep, inhuman laugh.
Mareko's eyes opened wide. "You're not Mizujin..." she whispered as she noticed the black tattoo of a dragon whose maw opened around the man's face.
"Wrong AND right, my dear lady," was the reply.