Chapter 1

The little boy ran open eyed and grinning through the hallways of his family�s compound, carrying his unruly load. In his arms, clumsily, he carried his father�s katana. Which was a long wooden sheath dyed a deep crimson with a magnificent blade sleeping peacefully within its narrow walls with only the hilt protruding outwards darkening to a darker shade of crimson, marked with the warning diamonds of gold that shone out from under the weathered leather.

It appeared to be small in his father�s arms, much as he felt when his father embraced him, but as the boy ran, he discovered, the katana was a different matter in his hands. It would take years before this magnificent red shaft would be small to him, but of course, until then, there was his mother, his playmates, and Dansha village to explore before the katana and his fate would become intertwined.

Thunder rumbled ominously outside the compound�s walls. A storm would be upon the village tonight, he thought as the ground quaked in reply to the thunder.

He shivered at the thought of a storm as he reached the main hall where his father stood fully clad in his samurai armor, completely unafraid of the approaching storm and the thunder. Yet sadness ruled the man�s eyes and something beyond the storm shadowed their depths. The storm was forgotten as he looked at his mother, even as a violent crash of thunder made the world shake around him and everything became bathed in furious light.

His mother was not wearing her blue kimono and hanging limply in its place was the ragged robes of a villager and leaning against her shoulder was a old naginata. Neither looked happy and the arrival of the katana for it seemed to bring a great pain to his mother, for she began to sob then and whispered something frantically to his father. He only shook his head sternly and whispered something that seemed to ease his mother�s worries, and her shoulders ceased to quake beneath the thin robes of her villager�s rouse.

"Why should the katana upset Mother?"the boy thought, " The katana means all is well and Mother should be happy to see it. Not sad. Maybe she too is frightened of the storm?"

He stopped beside his father and raised the katana to his waiting hands where his father�s massive hands, with the strength little boy never dreamed to posses, whisked it from his grasp. The hands tied the katana, like a faithful companion, to his father�s side where it hung silently. Then to the boys surprise, the man�s face suddenly loomed inches from his own, the crest of his helm catching the light, making the man almost seem immortal as a statue standing before him.

"Keiji, I want you to go with your mother and do as she says, do you understand me? You both need to leave the village. It is very important that you both leave very soon." he said to the boy.

"What was going on?" he wondered.

His father gave no answers as he regarded him, hoping for a answer. He looked up at his mother and then nodded solemnly, the battle lost, for he had not the courage to ask, for fear of the answer. Yet, he yearned to know what was happening, and why they must go. The thing he realized that the bringing of the katana to his father was his first mistake. It meant his father would have to fight someone, or something, and risk his life and honor upon the field, and all for some reason Keiji was unaware of.

Secondly, he decided, as a cold shiver of fear ran up his back, the daimyo had not summoned his father and this could only mean that there was another darkness coming upon Dansha, that the not even the daimyos and their quarells were responsible for. Then again, maybe the daimyo was, Keiji only knew, that when the daimyos� became angry, all the father�s left to fight, and sometimes, none returned to their families. His father, however, had always come home.

He could only think of one thing that could force this situation, beyond the daimyo, as he had heard it from the wounded samurai who came to Dansha to recover: Bandits, the dread wolves of the era. Ruthless men who left their masters for personal gain, at the expense of others. Cruel, vile, men without honor, they were.

He now knew who the storm�s companion and partner were. The bandits rode against Dansha this night in the greed of plundering for riches not of their own. Keiji, at last, understood and knew his father�s face as he spoke once again, "Goodbye, Keiji. Grow into a brave samurai. Good luck, my son."

Pain burned in his chest, yet he could not force the grief he felt to come to light in this dim room as they stood together as a family for a final moment. He didn't want to destroy his father's resolve and his own fear closed his throat from issuing a farwell to the resigned man. Yet the storm threatened to unleash its torrents and moisture came to his eyes as he hugged his father this last. . . final. . . time. It was all he could force himself to do.

He would remember the smell of his father�s leather armor and the proud grace that seemed to posses him in this final hour, yet he only smiled and gently tousled his son's hair before turning to share with his mother a longer embrace. It would be a image that he would hold onto for as long as he lived and breathed, even in the dark night of battle, he would never forget this as he watched them be together for this last, final moment in their lives together.

His mother disappeared against her husband�s armor and only his helm and her long black hair could be seen and distinguished in the single form they became standing in the dim light of the main hall. With a almost agonized sigh, they parted, his mother drew a rattling breath, and then she reached down, grabbed his hand into hers, picked up the naginata, and without a single backward glance, she left the compound.

Neither had to turn around to know that his father stood at the gates watching them go even as the rain slowly began to fall upon the village and lightening struck, lighting the way for them. Keiji�s father watched them go and once they where out of sight, he returned to the compound. He blew out the few lights that had remained burning and waited for the wolves to descende upon the village. In the shadows, he awakened the katana from its sleep.

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