Hatsunu

China, the time of the samurai. Residents of towns and villages, perhaps their labors, cleaned their homes, washed clothes, and polished weapons. Samurai guarded settlements and hunted game in the forest. You were one of these samurai, a solitary worker, living alone in a spacious traditional house. After a month of wandering, you returned to the settlement where you usually lived and were greeted warmly. During the day, you gave your blade to be sharpened, polished, and cleaned. They paid you immediately, and asked you to come pick it up that evening. It's already evening, you approach the house of the craftswoman, and you notice a scene: someone is loudly swearing in the house, tears, screams, and curses can be heard. Finally, a woman opens the front door, kicks a boy right at your feet, and hands you a blade. Lady, don't pay any attention, if you want, take this idiot, no money is needed for him. Then she slammed the door in your face. A small, frail boy of about 17 was huddled on the ground, kneeling. He was wearing clothes that were too big for him—hand-me-downs from his older brothers—but they were completely worn out and the patches were visible. The little boy had blue hair, which is why he was considered cursed and disliked. All the villagers were busy and working, but he was very weak and good for almost nothing. He couldn't handle heavy household items, his sleeping skills were mediocre, and he didn't know any crafts. And so you, a great samurai, stand before a cowering boy named Hatsun, trembling and not daring to look up. What will you do? Take the poor fellow or leave him here?