Well, I once was in a clan where a lot of people seemed to like writing. Inspired by some of them I also gave a shot at it. I posted them, wrote up to the three parts before the clan didnt really was very active around the forum and our servers.

I miss the writing, always loved writing, but it involves a lot of work. I wish to continu but without much reasons I dont feel like I should 'waste' a lot of time. Writing a part takes several hours.

So I decided to post the three parts I wrote and see what comments I get. If I get good comments I might strongly reconsider to continu writing the story again...
So basicly it's up to you . dont mind any language mistakes, English isnt my native tongue.

Anyway here goes:

Legend of Kiotiro

Part I: Lost Samurai

When the sun climbed its invisible staircase to the sky, the wind sang its song. The green grass, as if it were made out of jade, danced to the rhythm of the wind its song. As Sleep took its leave, Life was waking up. When the darkness of the night crawled away, pushed back by the shining of the sun, life began it’s daily routine. The green plains were once more filled with small life forms, so small yet so significant.

Another day in Japan had begun. On a dust path, which crawled trough the plain, dividing it in two, was empty. Tracks of a cart were filled with a low level of water, one of the tracks darkness had left behind, a track that would soon vaporize and rise to the eternal sky.
As far as a human eye could see, as far as the eye would touch the horizon, not a man was in sight. This was nature’s Tokyo… Yet as higher the sun climbed, the less winged creatures danced their floating ballet.

As the composed masterpiece of nature was played, it was disturbed by a sound that was not part of the song. The sound of steps, but not the sound of a wild creature seeking it’s path trough the day. The sound of leather walking the dusty road, leaving small clouds of dust behind its marches. Leather wrapped around feet, transformed to protection for feet, feet belonging to a man. Yet these feet did not belong to a farmer marching to the field, or a nobleman over viewing what he thought he owned. Not to a monk spreading the ideology, which he believed in or not to a trader who spread his mercantile around the Japan, from Nagasaki to Kyoto.

Feet belonging to a warrior, a warrior who had seen all what he had been trained for. Land marked by blood, lightning produced by Japanese steel, the sound of Katana’s slamming in to each other, their deadly blades finding their never ending quest to end another life.
Wisdom given trough from generation to generation. All the knowledge he had to know, all the knowledge, which was useful to him. He could try to learn all the knowledge in the world, yet only a small piece would serve him in his brief time of life.

He belonged to a kin; a kin that thought honor was worth more than the dungeons of the Kyoto castle filled with pure gold. A kin who would go into the unchangeable tales of History and Past. A kin whose way of life would bring forth great men and great names.
Names who for ever will be remembered in the history of the four isles of Japan. Names like Nobunaga and Katsumoto. Brave men yet as modest as they are, awaiting the inevitable day of their death, by natures, their own or their enemies hand. For some reason they could not satisfy themselves with dying as any other man, they could not stand waiting till nature decides it has been enough.

A natural death was a rare thing among these men and they would not have wanted it any other way. From the day they were born they were taught that each day could be their last. They lived by this unknown discipline, not allowing any mistake, only being satisfied with ultimate perfection. It was to this kin of men he belonged and he would have cursed all gods in the world if he would not have been given the honor to be part of them.

He possesses nothing yet he walks in pride, his hand wrapped around the leather, which bounds him to the animal known as a horse. Walking the path of his destiny, the path that will lead him to his yet not revealed quest. To whatever cause his life-energy was part of. To whatever destiny he is to fulfill…

Chapter II: Kiotiro

Days have passed, as once more the night was driven back piece by piece, step by step, a battle it could not win. Tears of dew ran down the pines of the pine-tree. A misty blanket was all it left behind, a blanket as thin as silk, formed by dew, which floated between the trees of Nigoto-forest.

The sounds of birds once filled the empty space between the stems of the trees but for all who paid attention could hear an anomaly in the song of the feathered creatures. Breaking twigs, the bouncing of running feet. Lines of a body ran trough the trees, faster, not knowing where to run to, not knowing where it is, lost in the maze, the maze of natures green towers.
The sound of the running feet combined with the sound of loud breathing, breathing of tiredness, exhaustion, despair…

A shade runs trough the trees, seeking an exit, hoping for freedom, liberation out of a natural prison where in it trapped itself.
The shade has a white face, blood colorized cheeks as result of the effort. Tears run down the creatures pale cheeks, tears caused out of the shivery wind which had chosen Nigoto-forest as it’s resort today. But also tears formed out of despair running and raging trough the creatures veins. The harder it ran, the deeper into the forest it ran, the more desperate it became, fearing the worst yet it did not stop. It refused to lay down and await it’s end. It ran, it ran and it ran. It’s hart pounding, it’s breath stalling.

It ran and it ran but all of a sudden it stopped… It sank trough it’s knees and looked at the ground in which the creature had planted its knees. In the moistly land of the forest there were clearly the markings of what once was or is a road or a path. A path which leads to the north and to the south but which side. The creature sighs relieved as it’s hope is restored, brick by brick but firmly is the wall op hope being rebuild. The creature decides to go south, starving, exhausted but satisfied with the idea of maybe having found a way out of the maze.

It starts walking down the path, trough the forest, southwards… Minutes become hours as hours pass by. Starvation is crawling up the creature as it begins to look around for anything that might even look edible. Yet it’s search is futile, not a single berry bush is found. It decided to carry on it’s journey towards the south. Hours pass by again as all of a sudden the creature is warned by the sound of footsteps into the moistly ground, sound which are not produced by it’s marches, footsteps of another creature which is dwelling the forest. The creature stops and waits, one sound ends, the other remains. The louder the footsteps become, the stronger the consciousness becomes. Consciousness starts turning into fear for it does not know what is walking down the path, as once more the creature starts to fear the worst. It runs of the path and hides itself behind a tree, a tree of which it hopes to be thick enough to hide the presence of it’s body. Hiding, it awaits the arrival of whatever is producing the footsteps.

Surprised is the creature as the creator of the footsteps becomes visible, becomes a person and finally that person becomes a man. Dressed in a black kimono, as black as the heart of pure evil. A white marking painted on the chest. The man carries by his side a sword, an instrument of death. The man has black-brown short hair yet strings of long hair hang in front of his face, some hide his eyes.

The man seems not to be aware of the creatures presence and strolls further down the path, towards the north. Feeling relieved the creature decides to reveal it’s presence and moves carefully towards the man. As a snake it wraps it’s body around the tree, it’s back against it, foot by foot it turns away from the tree. As it decides to take a step closer towards the man, who gives the impression of still not to be aware of the presence of the creature. For the next second it seems life rushes by. The creature stands shivering against the tree, tears rolling down it’s face. Next to it’s face, not more than the thickness of a child’s finger is the cold deadly steel of a blade planted into the tree. The creatures eyes roll over the blade, following it to the end of it and finding a face at the end of the blade.

For the first time, the creature has a clear view on the man’s face. The man has strange gray eyes, a feeling less face. The face is young yet it looks old and tired, tired of life, tired of battle. Markings of the face betray an exiting life. The eyes do not give away any feeling yet the face has an surprised look. As if the man was clearly not expecting to find a young girl shivering next to his blade. Reviving of his surprise the man pulls his blade out of the tree and stows it in its sheath, still observing the young girl. As the lines of their eyes cross each other the man draws away his face and starts walking down the path once more.

Recovering from her emotions the girl comes to sense again and rushes after the man. “Wait for me!”: she yells in an attempt to draw the mans attention. The man ignores her call and keeps strolling dawn the path, as if nothing happened. The girl runs and catches up with the man. As she catches up she follows his paces and walks next to him, looking towards his face. The mans face keeps looking forward ignoring the girl, his face not bothering to make any motion.

“Who are you? I am Tomi, I was traveling trough the forest but the sound of wolves scared me off and I got lost. I ran and ran and eventually I found this path and I ran into you and..”: she spoke, suddenly stopping. The man moved his head a bit towards her, looked at her form the corners of his eyes and then turned his head away again, returning to his strolling. The girl is beginning to get startled by the man.
“Where are we going, where is the road going to? At least you could tell me your name!”: she started rattling again as if she had not spoken for many years and was trying to catch up the flown by time.

The man kept walking, still looking forward. Yet once more he turned his head a bit and looked at her from the corners of his eyes.

“Kiotiro…”: he spoke.

Chapter III: Takeda

Sun and sky were as clear as the water that belonged to the legendary fountain of youth. Two shades kept walking, one as serious and conscious as possible, another amazed by the masterpiece called ‘nature’. Kiotiro had not spoken a single word since he had told his name, Tomi on the other hand seemed not to be able to reach the silence Kiotiro resided in. Nature’s sounds is all he wanted to hear and the babbling of Tomi was irritating him. As irritating as the small mosquito which has chosen you as target during the night.

Kiotiro was now walking with his hands in his sleeves and still searching the horizon. Not even in this peaceful place Kiotiro could shake the feeling of nearby danger.
His entire life he had this feeling and yet now at age of twenty-four the feeling was stronger than it had ever been in his years of discipline. Like any other samurai he was never spotted without his katana. The very same katana that once belonged to another great samurai, Kiotiro’s master and father. His father belonged to what we call the Kami. Elite among the samurai and personal guards of the shogun. Their katanas were the finest steel ever laid upon an anvil by a Japanese swordsman and therefore those blades were given the same name as the noble men who wore them.

Kiotiro, like all his ancestors, belonged to one of the most powerful clans Japan would ever know. He was one of the ‘Oda’, one of the greatest clans Japan would ever know in it’s centuries long history. It is the very same ‘Oda’ who would bring forth many years later Oda Nobunaga. One of the three unifiers of the four isles of Japan and his honorable son Nobutada. Being part of this clan was not all sunshine and joy for as powerful the Oda was, they had many powerful enemies. Enemies like the Takeda and Asai. Many years later Nobunaga would lead his armies against these two clans in order to conquer all of Japanese soil.

Kiotiro himself had not seen much of the hostility between the Oda and the Takeda. His father told him great tales about the great Oda battling the Takeda on the green plains of Japan. Like most samurai his father could did not tell the tales of Oa-defeats. Kiotiro, as all samurai, knew the Takeda had beaten the Oda several times. Many lives were lost during these battles yet none wept for as all who had given their lives were given the honor of dying in battle, an aspiration among samurai.
Yet Kiotiro may not have seen it, he lived it up close. Time after time he watched his father marching to the battlefield along with all the other men of the village, time after time he waited underneath the wooden lean-to, often in the worst moods weather could take. Time after time his father came back, one time he returned without a scratch, other times he returned more dead than alive yet he returned till that one time…

Kiotiro was in a grieve sadness and the entire sky cried with him, it’s tears thrown out the clouds, plunging on the earth where they would forever be absorbed by all life that was connected to that very same soil. Once more the Oda had met the Takeda, once more his father had left their house in the green hills of Japan but this time he did not return… Kiotiro sat in front of the house for hours, his hands wrapped around his fathers sword. Another Kami had fallen. Tales went trough the village how honorable he died but it could not comfort Kiotiro, his heart was broken, his master and father was gone. Yet for twenty years long he was prepared for when this day would come. Kiotiro had always hoped, like his father before him, he would die first. Kiotiro did not die first and as it was his duty as a samurai he accepted the fate that was thrown upon his father for as he knew that very likely that same fate would one day be his.

Kiotiro buried his father and remained at the house in the hills for two months more, then he left…
All he took with him was his fathers Kami, but he left the sheath of the sword with his mother and stew his fathers blade in his own sheath. By doing this he would for ever feel bounded to his father and he would know that for ever his father would be with him each time he engaged into battle and each time he would end a life he would end it together with his master, as Kiotiro would have wanted it, as his father would have wanted it.

Twenty-four moons had passed since the event yet Kiotiro still thinks about it every day. Everyday he prays and by doing so he feels like every day he talks to his father, a conversation from father to son, from son to father.

From the moment they had left the forest, after witnessing the burst of joy Tomi experienced, he felt an unusually tension around him. After a time passing by he had given the cause of this tension a possible reason. At the very moment they were walking trough Takeda-land and he blamed that very reason as the cause of the tension that crawled upon him like an icy cold crawling up his spine. Tomi on the other hand kept babbling and rattling. Kiotiro, in all his wisdom, did not understand a woman could have that much to tell. Kiotiro guessed she must be around 19 years yet sometimes she acted like she was much younger.

The longer they walked, the more tensed Kiotiro came. He kept his face straight out yet he kept looking around, his eyes went at the speed of lightning from one corner to the other, not allowing them any rest, not allowing anything to miss. Tomi kept talking about every little thing she encountered on the road and acted like she was a guide who did his task way too fanatically, yet as busy as she was, she did not notice how tensed Kiotiro had become. The further they walked, even Tomi noticed something strange. A sound of horses was coming their way. Kiotiro had heard it too and guessed two riders were coming their way.

As further they walked the closes the horsemen came, and when they finally reached the top of the hill they saw underneath them two horsemen riding up the hill, straight for them. Tomi, who was glad to see the same life forms at first, changed fast in feeling as she saw the tensed and serious face of Kiotiro. In some way it did not comfort her, but was it the face or the horsemen? She could not tell, like a riddle written on the wall, keeping the secret it is ordered to protect, not given away till the key is found. The horsemen had long spotted them by now and were had set their temporarily destination near the two people on the hill. They rode and rode, till they were close enough to see Kiotiro’s katana. A quick look to each other was all they needed as in those few seconds they had looked into each others eyes, they achieved a mutual understanding. A samurai… Even Kiotiro knew these were no ordinary travelers. They were samurai and most likely Takeda.

The two horsemen slowed down their speed, as an avalanche who had lost it’s will to destroy. They rode up close but as closes as they got the more their hand moved towards their sword. A small look towards Kiotiro’s chest was all it needed, like the tiger who smells it’s nearby prey. They did not spoke a word and just looked at Kiotiro, not caring for Tomi whom did not understood. A yell was produced by the mouth of one of the men, like a falcon beginning it’s dive towards it’s prey, it’s perfect attack. The man grabbed his sword, gave his horse the spurs, and rode with his sword in the air toward Kiotiro whom at his turn did not move but just stared towards the incoming threat. In high speed, in strong determination the Takeda-warrior rode towards Kiotiro and when he thought to be near enough he stroke his sword. The deadly blade cleave trough the air and when the warrior thought to have killed his adversary he rode trough yet not even a second later his eyes spared open as if they had seen the most unbelievable thing.

His horse slowed down and by doing so it’s rider began it’s short journey towards the earth. The second warrior stared in disbelief and stared towards Kiotiro who now did no longer stood in the same stance but had token another stance with a drawn sword within the few past seconds. His legs stood firmly on the ground, his legs open wide, one arm pointing to the earth in front of him while the other pointed to the sky behind him, firmly wrapped around his sword’s hilt. A small river, as tiny only an ant would have trouble to cross it, of blood ran down the cold blade.
Behind him stood a horse not knowing what to do, it’s rider dead on the ground. His blood marking the dust.

In a rage of anger and fury the second horseman charged toward Kiotiro who once more did not move, his eyes firmly staring at the horseman. Yet when the horseman was closely enough, Kiotiro let the sword roll in his hand, turned himself away from the horseman, as graceful as the twist of a tornado, grabbed the hilt firmly once more and stabbed the sword into the horseman who had in his rage only come to late to the sense of his mistake. Tears bursted out of his eyes as the cold steel began it’s journey trough his flesh, ending his life, giving him the death he lived for. As his horse rode trough, the warrior was thrown of and had seen the end of tunnel before reaching the ground. A loud sigh was the last thing to be heard when his body collided with the dusty road, throwing up small participles of dust.

Tomi stood hammered to the ground while Kiotiro removed his sword from the warriors belly, putted the sword with a graceful move and with perfection in it’s sheath. The events had not changed anything to the expression which had attached itself to his face as the mask on a clown. He bowed towards the man and then walked towards the horses who now stood trampling on the road. He grabbed the reins of one horse and pulled it towards it. He mounted the horse and had a quick look towards Tomi whom was getting to her senses again. She saw how Kiotiro began to ride the horse and she decided to follow his lead. In a comical way she mounted the horse and tried it to order to follow Kiotiro, as futile as trying to stop a wave out of the sea on your own.


When succeeding to make the horse following Kiotiro, she kept wondering why the horseman attacked kiotiro. Kiotiro noticed the unusual silence brought forth by Tomi. He knew she was wondering about the latest events yet he decided not to tell her since he clearly came out of world she would never understand. Tomi kept wondering, seeking the key, seeking the answer of the riddle.

The sign on Kiotiro's chest, they key to the riddle.