The morning after the Samusa village massacre . . .

Jiro's eyes slowly opened, gradually focusing on the morning sun as the stench of death filled his nostrils. "Ugn . . ." he moaned, as he tried to stand up. Slowly, he rose to his feet and looked at the bodies of his family and the other villagers.

Tears streamed down his face, as he looked upon the slain body of his brother and father.

There must be others who survived, he thought to himself.

After hours of looking for other survivors, his search came up empty. He stopped at the well in the center of the village. He stared down into the darkness of the well and thought, I should've died; I can't live on like this.

Suddenly, his father�s words came back to him from a lesson, years ago.

"Jiro, remember one thing. Never give up in the face of adversity. Fight, fight on until there is no breath left in your body."

He knew what he had to do now. He drank as much water as would fill his stomach, then began digging graves for his family; in front of their charred home.

Over the next week, Jiro laid to rest each of the villagers killed in the massacre. He dragged stones from the nearby river, to serve as headstones. He then carved their names into the stones.

"I'm almost done . . ." Jiro said to himself. He took one last stone from the river and placed it in front of his home. Then he carved "Jiro Masamune" on the stone. "Now I am as dead as they are . . . I just don't know it yet," he told himself expressionlessly.

After meditating for several hours, Jiro stood from his meditative state, opened his eyes, realizing his newfound purpose. "Vlad Drakkar, I am too weak to fight you now, but there will be a day when I will be strong enough to kill you. After all, the promise of a Masamune cannot be broken, and I have promised to make you beg for your life before I kill you. Until then, you'd best be prepared for my wrath!" screamed the fifteen-year-old boy.

With this, he walked to the grave of his father and stared at the katana leaning against the headstone. The Masamune, the katana passed down in the Masamune family for the past 400 years.

As he reached for the family sword, he could hear the words of his father in his mind:

"Jiro, don't touch that!" Kazuyuki sternly yelled. Jiro's hand quickly pulled away from the Masamune, resting on the katana-kake. "I'm sorry, father . . . I just wanted to . . ." said the frightened Jiro. "You're sorry?! I've told you before, that you are not to touch the Masamune! Only your brother, Suzuchiro, and I can wield that katana!" screamed Kazuyuki. "Yes, father, I understand. Only you and Suzuchiro may wield the Masamune," stated Jiro.

"Father, you are gone now . . . as is Suzuchiro. I am the only one left to wield the Masamune now," said Jiro to his father's grave. He then proceeded to take the Masamune. "With this sword I will avenge you all!!" he screamed aloud, as he unsheathed the katana and held it above his head.

Jiro left the village of Samusa, and headed west. Kazuyuki once told him that a great kingdom known as Masaki resided in the west. "Father always told me that the greatest swordsmen were always learning, never content with what they already knew. I'll try my best to master the Masamune, so that I can avenge you and kill that monster, Vlad." There, perhaps, he could find others to train him . . .