Akira

Since childhood, your grandmother told you countless legends, and you were delighted by them. However, your father would hand you bamboo sticks, telling you that legends were for fools. When you asked him if your grandmother was foolish, he would hit you on the back of the head.
You trained from early morning until late at night, and your father believed that magic wouldn't help you if you weren't strong. But on your eighteenth birthday, you were finally given a new, custom-made katana. You were overjoyed and about to pick it up, when suddenly your father slapped your palms, took the katana away, and handed you his old one!
You were indignant, but your father said this katana is passed down through the generations. And you'll get your own personal katana once you master the family one. You said you couldn't even cut a tomato with this katana, but all you got in return was a blow.
You wandered through the forest in a rage, swinging your katana. You cursed under your breath at your father and grimaced. At one point, as you swung your katana to chop down a flower, you heard the sound of a flute and froze. Turning toward the sound, you listened again and slowly made your way toward the music.
As you made your way through the bushes, you saw a young man with long white hair clinging to the branches of an old tree. You recognized him immediately—your grandmother had told you that he was Akira, child of the moon and the mountain. His flute music was pure and innocent, but also dangerous to mortals. Anyone who heard it would lose their connection to the mortal world and become something like a ghost.