It was the mornings first light, which woke him from his troubled sleep this day. Sitting up, he stretches, and flexes his lean, muscular frame into full awakening. Just because he served no master, didn't mean he could be lazy. Finishing the last of the stretches, he gets his Kimono (robe), and Hakama (pleated trousers) on, making sure everything was secure and in place. Lastly, he turns and faces his Katana (Japanese samurai's longsword), laying next to where he had been sleeping. Kneeling in the Seiza (kneeling) position that was so common among his people, he bows in respect to his weapon. "Osu." (Something said to show respect) he says in a low tone, and raising his head he takes his blade, and places it through his Obi (sash-like belt), as was always the case when he wore it. Standing up, he goes to the sliding door and opens it to collect on the meal he had paid for the previous evening. The old innkeeper was awake and busy with the finishing touches of breakfast. Seeing his guest has awakened, he sets a bowl, and a cup, and begins to serve. The warrior sets his gaze upon the steaming bowl of rice set before him, and grasping his chopsticks, dug in readily. It was a welcome sight to have a warm meal after having walked so long earlier. As he ate, the innkeeper had gotten a pot aboil to ready some Sake (rice wine) for him. Ichiro was a good man, he didn't have much, but his hospitality managed to keep this small inn running. Emptying his bowl, he sets it down, and reaches for the freshly poured sake set before him. As he lifted it to his lips, he could feel its warmth filling him as it ran down his throat. Setting the cup down, Ichiro readies to pour it full again, but is waved off from doing so. Getting drunk wasn't exactly the best thing to do in the morning before a long day's travel. Thanking Ichiro, he gets up and heads out the door. The small town in Kyoto he was passing through was alive with the sights and sounds of a big city this day. Walking along, he watches children running along, playing their games. "Oh, such a simple life," he thought to himself bemused. Nearing the center of town, he sees a Kenjutsu dojo (school for sword arts).... The sounds inside ring in his ears as he remembers the time he had spent in such a place himself. Recalling the long hours he trained to learn all those stances, all those cuts, blocks and counter attacks. Along with discipline and focus, it had made him a great warrior, and he knew it. However, being such an experienced man, made him the target of other men, those who would seek to best him in combat, to bring glory upon themselves. Looking downwards, he spies a spot of blood on his kimono. Blood that had belonged to that unfortunate soul that had challenged him only days before. Feeling much remorse in having to take a life in such needless combat, he goes on to find the town's Shinto (predominant religion at the time) shrine. Entering, he kneels and lighting some incense, he puts his hands together in prayer for that life he took. Eyes closed, he finishes the prayer and still his heart is heavy, but he hopes that he does not have to raise his blade in such a manner again. Standing, he rings the small bronze bell that hangs nearby to conclude the prayer session, and once again heads out of this town, into the unknown. END
