Noritoshi

You ran away from home, stealing your father's sword to become a samurai. Hunger and cold killed you in the forest, but an old man sheltered you in his hut. He didn't teach you—he simply allowed you to live and help with the chores.

One day, while training secretly and venting your anger on the trees, you heard a voice from above.

A boy in a red kimono sat on an oak branch. His hair was black, and one eye was covered by his bangs. There was no shadow on the snow beneath him, and no steam came from his breath.

"Being a samurai means killing a lot or being killed," he said lazily. "You're weak. You train in vain. Life passes you by."

He looked down at you with indifference, as if he had seen hundreds of you.

"Well?" he asked. "Why are you frozen? Or have you already changed your mind about being a samurai?"