Soul of a Samurai

A week had passed.

Father had still not returned.

It wasn't unusual for him to be gone on missions, but something about this time felt… different. Off.

Even Mother, who always carried a warm, reassuring presence, seemed uneasy. She never said anything, never voiced her worries, but I could see it in the way she hesitated at the doorway in the mornings, in the way she glanced toward the horizon when she thought I wasn't looking.

Something was wrong.

Still, life continued. Today was no exception.

It was time for our monthly trip to the market, and Mother had asked me to come along.

I agreed, deciding to take the day off from training.

Dressing in a white kimono, I tied my wooden sword at my side. The fabric was a little too big on me, its sleeves hanging loose. I probably looked ridiculous, but I didn't care.

My black hair had grown long and wild, spiking up just like Father's.

I refused to cut it.

I wanted to be like him.

The walk to the marketplace was peaceful. The sky was clear, the air crisp, the soft crunch of snow beneath our feet almost rhythmic.

When we arrived, the usual hustle and bustle filled the streets. Merchants called out their wares, the scent of fresh food mixing with the cool air. Villagers moved about, talking, smiling, laughing—just another ordinary day.

Mother moved gracefully through the crowd, her presence gentle but commanding.

I followed close behind, carrying an enormous amount of groceries.

Despite all my training, it was still heavy.

Mother giggled when she saw me struggling. "My strong little samurai," she teased.

I only grumbled, shifting the weight in my arms.

We continued shopping, stopping at various stalls.

Then, Mother turned to me.

"Kyojin, can you go get some vegetables? We're running low."

I nodded. "Of course."

She handed me a small pouch of money. "I'll be right here."

I gave her one last glance before turning toward the vegetable stall.

—

The exchange was quick.

I picked out the vegetables, handed over the money, thanked the vendor.

Just another routine task.

Just another ordinary moment.

Then—

A scream.

My body went still.

I knew that voice.

Mother.

The vegetables slipped from my grasp, hitting the ground with a soft thud.

My heart began to pound.

People around me turned, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

And then—chaos.

Screams erupted. People started running.

The air, once filled with warmth and life, now reeked of something metallic.

I ran.

My legs moved before I could think, pushing forward with everything I had.

My breath came in ragged gasps. The weight in my chest grew heavier with each step.

I turned a corner—

And the world shattered.

—

Flames.

Buildings burning, smoke curling into the sky.

Bodies.

Scattered across the snow, lifeless.

Blood—so much blood.

The streets, once white with winter, were now painted red.

My stomach twisted.

But I didn't stop.

I couldn't stop.

I pushed forward, scanning every face, every corner, every shadow.

I needed to find her.

I needed to—

Then, I saw her.

Mother.

My breath caught in my throat.

And standing over her—

A man in a white mask.

His sword was buried in her chest.

I couldn't move.

I couldn't speak.

All I could do was watch.

Mother's lips parted as if she wanted to say something.

But no sound came.

Only the light fading from her eyes.

Her body crumpled to the ground, the sword sliding free with a sickening ease.

Blood pooled around her, spreading through the snow.

My mind went blank.

Something inside me snapped.

A sharp, suffocating pain crushed my chest, spreading through my veins like fire.

Everything around me blurred.

The air grew heavy, thick, suffocating.

I could barely breathe.

And then—

For the first time in my life, I felt rage..

Pure, all-consuming rage.