It had seemed a lifetime since his self-imposed departure from Harmonia, a wanted fugitive, ordered into exile by his former friend, rival and master, Sai, for the gravest of all dishonors, disobeying his master. It had been difficult for this man, believing in his soul that his former master, and his country, betrayed his trust, turning him into a wanted man, yet equally, he could not forgive his own betrayal, his dishonor, heavy upon his soul.

As darkness grew across the mountain trail, dressing the world in a shroud of mourning, this lone traveler ventured further into the heart of Highland, up the Tenzan Pass, his intended quest to lead him to Ryoko. He knew of no town in this area, yet he hoped his sword could be of service, for the burden on his soul was heavy, and would not lighten so long as his skills were untested.

Silently, as if the world itself held its breath, this solemn figure made his way to the summit of this mountain, his breath, now visible in the ever cooling air. He was weary from his travels, yet he would not rest, for he was destined to fight, whether it be life, tyranny, or simply fatigue, he would never surrender.

He neared the summit, and yet, the scent in the air caught his notice. Not the scent of pine, or of the forest, but the scent of battle. It filled his being, and gave way to the hunger for atonement in his soul. Here, he could make use of his skills, and win the honor he abandoned in his life. He would succeed, for he was samurai, and he could not be staved.

“Halt!” Spoke a resounding voice that tore through the silence of darkness. It took this lone figure a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, yet he finally saw the man who interrupted his solitude. He was a tall, muscular man, who wore the insignia of the Highland army. “What business do you have, traveling this path?”

“I am on my way to Ryube.” Stated this man, his patience wearing. “I seek relatives.”

“I am sorry sir, but this area is closed to all visitors.” Stated the solder. “You will have to…*hack*” His words were cut off, as Genshu drove the flat of his hand into the man’s throat, cutting off the wind like and axe chopping into a tree.

“I haven’t the patience to wait for your blessing.” Stated Genshu, who walked into the clearing of the mountain. Here, among the debris of warfare, Genshu’s eyes centered upon the carnage and destruction of the once, lively camp of the Unicorn Youth Brigade. Studying the disaster with a mixture of disgust and intrigue, Genshu saw the smoldering remains of the destroyed camp. The tents, a heap of discarded cloth and material, were haphazardly thrown aside, as the bodies of these youths were piled in the center of the camp like some ritual killing.

Genshu walked with slow, uneasy steps to the young solders, wearing the blue and white of their uniforms. He leaned down, touching one of the youth’s faces, and turning the lifeless face toward him. The boy, no more than fifteen, wore an expression of pure terror, his eyes, glaring the fear that Genshu had seen too many times. And it was, that Genshu’s mind was snapped from the present, into the past, remembering walking through the burned villages of the Kenjya, the barbarian tribe of the Grasslands. Genshu had witnessed a similar fate befall the dead tribe, yet he, unknowingly, yet nevertheless, still held the blame for his part in the massacre, now, he has seen a similar slaughter, and his heart cried out, screaming for redemption for those lost for whatever senseless purpose. Genshu, cared not for the reasons of this massacre, for children should be protected from such harm.

The groaning of the guard brought Genshu’s mind to the present. He stood, fury shaking his body with purpose. Walking to the guard, Genshu grabbed the solder by the throat and lifted him to his feet.

“I give you 30 seconds, to tell me what happened here.”

The solder, a seasoned warrior, was often faced with death, and proudly proclaimed he never flinched. Yet, staring into the hardened eyes of this ‘peasant’, he was truly terrified. “Uh…it…it…was…”

“Fifteen seconds.” Genshu reemphasized his point by slowing drawing his sword.

“It was the City-State.” Screamed the solder. “Those, bastards. They came here, and butchered the pride of Ryoko village. They killed these young boys for kicks, then fled into the woods.”

Genshu’s eyes narrowed as he studied this man. It was true, this man believed what he told Genshu, yet the samurai was not convinced. There was something odd about this tale. First, how could the army of Jowston sneak through the heavily guarded checkpoints of Highland, completely ambush a well-trained group of young men, and steal off into the night like fleeing shadows in the early dawn. Secondly, this area was guarded by Highland solders, why would they leave the bodies of these youths piled like some sickened Reliquary and not lain them in the due respect they deserved? This was not making sense to Genshu, and his eyes glared at the shivering solder.