Prologue

The wind caressed his soft skin, the hairs on his arms standing and flowing with it like the grass of a field. His white shirt shuffled from its enveloping motion, but never did he moved from his spot. The ground beneath him was warm, soft, and all too comfortable to let himself moved with the wind today, and he would not spoil the chance to enjoy a moments peace. For months he had spent his time doing all the things that others wanted him to do… ordered him to do; now, away from all those voices of confusion, of anger, of selfish desire, he could embrace the quiet life again… embrace the serenity of nature’s grasp. He breathed in slowly, the cool air moving down into his juushin without moving his chest, tasting the sweet scent of freshly blossomed daffodils, and he held that taste in his body, letting him envision a field of green grass and brilliant yellow flowers blooming on a clear blue sky day. He released his breath silently, letting the old air and dying taste leave his body and mind, only to drink deeply of the sweetened wind again after a long moment.

He heard steps approaching him from behind. Most people would have thought it only a shifting sound in the wind, but he had spent too many years learning to understand the differences in sound, and the sweet taste of daffodils was replaced with the familiar stench of boiled leather, worked steel, and old blood. Yet he sat there on the ground, his eyes still closed to the world around him, his breathing still calm and resolute in its continuous flow as the steps moved closer to him. The steps moved apart, one to his left, another to his right, and the final set straight to his back, and his ears caught the sound of metal sliding. He sighed quietly, the sound muffled by the breeze washing over him, and he opened his eyes as he turned his head to see those who would disturb his meditations.

Each man wore a suit of leather, boiled in oil for strength and rigidity then shaped to fit the physique of the man who would wear it; a straight sword as long as their arm hung loosely at their side, and their decorated pot helms sat ungraciously upon their heads. He knew their kind far better than perhaps they themselves did; soldiers, probably from one of the local feudal lords who wanted to show their influence, their wealth, their power to those who they subjugated with an iron fist and the gold to pay that fist well. He sighed again before bringing his head back to where it had been and closed his eyes.

‘May I help you somehow?’ He asked with a kindly tone, honestly polite to them.

‘I am here by order of the lord of this land. You have been identified as Kanaeda Kyoshi, a wanted criminal, and we are here to arrest you for the crimes that have been declared against you. Come with us quietly, and no harm shall befall you. Resist… and we have orders to brig your corpse back for burial as a traitor to your masters.’

And so they have finally caught up to me Kanaeda thought to himself, his hands inching towards his waist. Just when I thought that I could relax for a little longer. He carefully rose to his feet, giving a moment’s glance to each of the three men around him; they were young men, perhaps ten years younger than himself, and the glimmer of fear was within their inexperienced eyes, a fear of being in the presence of someone more dangerous than their simple, closer-minded training had ever let them contend with. Kanaeda bowed before them, and showed a grin on his face.

‘My masters are the winds that send me on my way, child. Leave me be, and you shall be able to see your homes again.’ He said with kindness and sincerity in his voice as he started to step away fro the men. The man to his left moved forwards with his sword poised to strike - an instant later, his target was gone from his eyes. Kanaeda tapped the poor boy on his shoulder, tutting him as he stood in shock at how fast his target had moved right before him. He dropped his sword and Kanaeda could actually feel his entire body shaking uncontrollably with fear for his own life just before he broke from his warm touch and started running away.

‘You should join him. I hate violence on such a lovely day.’ The two guardsman, however, seemed more intent on having their own blood spilled here than to listen to the wisdom offered to them. The first one - the speaker - came at him with some confidence in his swing, and Kanaeda simply kicked off the ground, hurtling himself over the guard and behind him quickly and effortlessly. The other guard stopped in his tracks, the fear finally starting to take hold in his blood at just how outmatched he was against Kanaeda. Within moments he too fled from the field, leaving the speaker alone against his prey.

With a resentful sigh he waited for the foolish guard to come at him with his sword, and as though it was fated the man thrusted his sword towards Kanaeda. A moment later, he stepped around the sword and struck a clean blow to the guards neck with his hand, then pushed him over onto the grassy floor; the guard started choking as he held his throat, realising that his wind pipe had been broken and pierced in the blow - his eyes showed the fear of death creeping its way into his mind, and Kanaeda looked down upon him with resent and guilt on his face.

‘I gave you a chance. It’s your fault.’

A few minutes later Kanaeda sat himself back onto the grassy floor, the wind starting to pick up again, and the smile he had worn before this brief interruption slinked its way back to it’s owners lips as the sweet flowery air entered his lungs again. The wind always brought him much joy here and in all the other places he had been, and the serenity it brought him never changed regardless of where he chose to enjoy it… only the interruptions changed.