Walk of a Warrior - Chapter 1

Walk of a Warrior - Chapter 1

It was a warm spring evening with a few stranding clouds making their way toward the quaint, lively village. The sun painted its rays across them, staining them with vibrant hues of orange and red, each new passing puff of white transforming their colors as though through a stained-glass window. A gentle breeze blew through occasionally, sweeping cherry blossoms from their perches atop supple branches; they were in full bloom, coating the ground as if a dull, pink snow and whimsically dancing about with the slightest humble zephyr. Amidst the orchard, a small, oak hut rested peacefully amongst the tinted trees, the dim light of candles and lamps illuminating the windows with their pale glow.

Cutting through the picture of peace, a small boy darted through the fallen blossoms, sweeping his feet about the petals, causing them to rise and fall vigorously. As he neared the humble home, he noted the lights in the kitchen and slumped down on all fours to crawl through the dusty path to the front door. Before he could place a paw on the latch, however, it swiftly opened to reveal a rather perturbed mother who was tapping her paw on the buckling cedar floors.

“You know you ought to be home before I serve dinner, Ryoushin; you should be clean and ready to start,” the small feline purred. She was a perfect example of beauty; her jade eyes sparkled in the changing light, almost as if owning a light of their own. They clashed harshly with her fur though, a vibrant pink, which seemed to illuminate a room on its own. She tapped her paw a few more times, nodding to indicate his required presence in the next room.
From around the corner, a deep voice bellowed, “Your mother is right, son; you should be in before dark.” Ryoushin turned to see a rather large, gray-black cat standing by a large, round, wooden table, a pot in his paws as he turned to set it down. At one point, it appears he may have been a pitched black color, and only his aging seems to have made its presence noticeable.

“Aww, you guys worry too much; nothing bad has ever happened around here before—why should I have to be in so early?” He splayed a pose as if carrying a sword, but this only seemed to make his parents sigh with contempt, focusing them back to their work of setting up the dinner table.

“Whatever are we going to do with him, Amos?” she whispered over her aged husband’s shoulder.

He shrugged slightly, turning to face her as she held a warm bowl to his back. He smiled at her, nodding back toward his mischievous son. “Well, Ryu, scrub yourself clean; we don’t need you spreading playtime all over the table.”

Lilly snatched up a small rag and sent it airborne toward Ryoushin’s waiting paws after dampening it under the wash pump. After he had finished scrubbing himself clean, his mother looked at them wearily before she gave them her approval. As Ryoushin finished, he handed the rag back to his mother’s anticipating paws, seating himself at the table next to where Amos had made his place. Lilly sat across from Amos accordingly, tipping her head for him to begin prayer.

As they all bowed their heads, a sudden blast of air pummeled its way through the open window, extinguishing the few candles that lit the room and spraying grains of rice across the table from inside the dinner bowls.
“Heavens! What a wind; Amos, please latch that window—that weather is becoming most dreadful.” As he arose and stirred toward the flailing shutters, he moaned as he attempted to retrieve the flinging pieces of timber. He breathed a sigh of relief once he had fastened them tightly, seating himself with a grumble.

Outside, the wind began blustering, ominously stirring miasmic swirls of gray and purging the golden sky of its gemstone luster; unbeknownst to the family however, a force more than simply a storm was raging its way toward the small family’s refuge.