The Outskirts of Michizane, Kai Province, 1540

There were crying children huddled all around the small house, all smelling like smoke and burnt wood. Masked men walked between them, looking them over and frowning at them as they passed, stepping around them and talking quietly between one another as they did. A boy sat amongst the children in silence, staring down at his hands and wondering when his father would return to find him and take him home. He wasn't sure when the old cloth that kept his long hair tied back had fallen away, but now it hung messily about his shoulders and hung over his eyes.

The boy looked up slightly when he heard the door open. A man stepped in his face covered by one of those metal masks. He had seen the samurai wear ones like it, but his seemed different. The mask was that of a snarling oni complete with two short horns that curved up from above his eyebrows and covered his whole face. The armor he wore was lighter than what Maru had seen on any other warrior, still made from the iron platelets but more compact and smaller, more leather where iron would be, and more streamlined. He wore weapons at his hips and on straps and belts that Maru hadn't ever seen before, and they looked as intimidating as they did foreign. He was taller than most of the others around them, and the boy saw that they treated him with an odd mount of deference. He was their leader. He had to be.

He began to go from child to child starting at the front. He would pause at each one and make assessments. "Too skinny. Too weak. Bad leg. This one. Sick, won't survive. Injured, but suitable. Barely, but she'll do. This one here." He saw a pair of legs stop before him, and when he looked up, he saw the masked man staring down at him. The  figure crouched down in front of him. Slowly, he reached up and pulled off his mask to reveal a bearded face with greying hair. The man's features were sharp and angled, accentuated by a long scar that cut right across his face in a piercing, jagged line. The man's face remained an impassive mask as he looked Maru up and down, "How did you end up here?"

The boy didn't reply as the man lifted his chin and turned his head from side to side like he was examining a horse rather than a young boy.

"Were your parents killed?"

"...Yes."

"Do you have anywhere else to go?"

"...No."

The man nodded and glanced over his shoulder, "This one. Definitely this one." He turned back to the boy and looked him over, "Your name. What is it?"

"Maru."

"Maru... Alright, Maru. Starting from today onwards, you are a candidate for the Sayonakidori. We hunt yokai. If you survive, we'll tell you more, but know that if you do, you will never go hungry again."

"What about my father?" Maru asked as he glanced over his shoulder. "He'll be coming back for me soon."

The man frowned, "No one is left alive out there, boy." He stood, and as he did, he cast one more look down at Maru, "My name is Kazegumo. I am the Supreme Commander of the Sayonakidori. We will leave you near a town, and your single objective is simple: for five years, you will survive. Our people will contact you from time to time to see your progress. If you do, then a lifetime of honorable service in defense of the people will await you. If you do not, then I pray the Kami have mercy on your orphaned souls, because I can assure you that the world will have none."

---

Michizane, Kai Province, 1541

"Maru!" Maru jumped when his name was called, calling his attention away from the taiyaki he was staring at from across the street. His stomach growled as he did, but he saw his friend Genji and his other friend Ume sprinting over to him, triumphantly holding sticks of dango in their hands. Genji thrust one into his hands as well, a smug look crossing his face.

Ever since Kazegumo had dropped him in Michizane, Genji and Ume had been there for him. War orphans like himself, they found themselves forming their tight little pod rather quickly, and he relished in their companionship. Together, the three of them had managed to survive with little help from any respectable family, and that was just fine with them.

Ume looked around, "I don't think anyone saw us snatch those..."

Maru looked between them and frowned, "Snatch? You stole these?"

Genji shrugged, "What's one or two dango sticks?"

Maru had half a mind to throw the sticks on the ground and walk away, but the sweet taste of the treats had eluded him for years. Sometimes they would get lucky, and when his mother had brought him into the town she would scrape together some money to get one for them to share. He took a bite and let the sweetness roll over his mouth with a satisfied groan, and he had to resist the urge to shove them all into his mouth at once.

Genji got that smug look on his face and Maru wanted to hit him. Out of the three of them, Genji was the tallest, biggest, and strongest. He was a large, square boy with muscles well beyond his years, but he could protect any of the other kids from most threats with relative ease. Ume was the only girl of the pod, but she was small and quick. She knew her way around the town like the back of her hand, and no one would argue that she was the best pickpocket out of them all. Maru was the third, lithe and agile, and he served as the brains of their operation. He didn't know how he wound up being their de facto leader, but he tried not to question it too much.

"Nobody saw you?" He pressed Ume, who frowned at him.

"No. At least, I don't think so..."

Almost before she finished, there was a shout behind them, and when Maru turned, he saw two men running towards them. "Someone did!" He shouted and took off running down the street, his bare feet drumming against the mud from the rain slicked street that had been kicked up by carts and foot traffic.  He wasn't sure how they caught him or why they didn't go after Genji or Ume, but one snatched him by the back of his worn old kosode and slammed him to the ground. That would have been fine if they hadn't delivered a kick to his stomach that was so hard that it took all of the wind out of his lungs.

"Teach you to steal from us, you little gutter rat!"

The kicks continued for what felt like an eternity as he tried his best to curl up to protect himself. They halted when the sound of an approaching horse came over the rest.

"Shit, samurai!"

"Not just a samurai. The jitou!"

Maru heard the men run off, and he slowly managed to push himself to his hands and knees as the sound of horse hooves on wet mud made him look up. The horse standing next to him was a large dark brown creature with a long white stripe down it's nose and bedecked from head to hoof in the trappings of a samurai's horse. His eyes followed the barding up to the rider, adorned in some of the finest armor that Maru had ever seen. The kabuto that sat upon his head had a thick mane of white hair and two antlered Kirin horns that protruded back on either side with the family's crest at the front. It was familiar to Maru, a deviation of the Takeda's, who ruled the province, own crest. His eyes halted on the face of the man looking down at him. There were faces that Maru knew were of nobility, and this man's was one of them. He had a mustache and beard under an aquiline nose and two almond eyes that watched him with a level of curiosity before he turned to watch the thugs round the corner at the end of the street with a shake of his head that made the cording of his helmet sway beneath his chin. Maru was in awe of him. "I honestly thought we had finished off these thugs... Are you alright?"

Maru nodded and slowly got to his feet, flinching at the pain in his ribs, "Yes, my lord."

The man looked down at him from his horse and smiled, "How did you end up here?"

Maru looked up at him, not sure what this samurai wanted from him and not trusting him. "Why do you care?"

"Because I care about all people in Michizane," the samurai replied with an amount of sincerity that made Maru genuinely believe what he said. "My name is Atsumori Sadamasa," he continued with another warm smile. "I am the jitou of this prefecture. Tell me, what is your name?"

"Maru, my lord."

Atsumori smiled again at him and dismounted his horse, giving the beast a pat on the neck as he walked over to stand in front of Maru, "Well, Maru, I was just about to head to lunch. How would you like to accompany me?" Maru didn't know why he nodded, but he did. Kazegumo would be furious if he knew that he was accepting help, but something about the man made Maru trust him. One thing he gave himself credit for was that his intuition was rarely wrong. Atsumori hefted him up onto the horse and continued to speak casually, "When it is just you and I, do not worry about being formal. I do not particularly care for the pomp and circumstance, truly. You know, I had a son about your age. His name was Nagamasa."

Maru watched as the man mounted the horse, "Had?"

"Yes. He died last winter of a fever along with my wife." There was a beat of silence before the samurai changed the subject, "It will be good to have a younger guest! Seibukame could use someone to talk to who is not a stuffy old man," the jitou laughed, and Maru found that he was smiling, too.

---

Atsumori watched half in amusement and half in awe as the young boy before him scarfed down every single piece of food laid before him. He saw the young Seibukame's eyes widen before glancing briefly to the usually taciturn Masakage who had his brow furrowed above his eyes in a look of mild concern, if he had to place an emotion to the expression on his face, while Nasuyari stood by blinking back his own surprise.

Maru had taken some time to look around at the assembled group before he had begun eating like it was his last day alive. He had seen the boy that Atsumori had mentioned, Seibukame. He looked different. Maru had a hunch that he wasn't Japanese. He did his hair differently, his eyes looked different, and there was a slight accent when he spoke. He was Lord Inoue's son, apparently - an upright, regal-looking man who sat beside Atsumori. There was a Nasuyari, a huge giant of a man with a square face and a full beard who looked like he seemed uncomfortable out of armor. Masakage was a wolfish man with high cheekbones and a razor sharp face, gaunt cheeks, and piercing eyes whose every movement was controlled.

"I take it..." Atsumori began as the boy paused with a mouthful of rice to look at him warily, "that you haven't eaten so well in quite some time."

"You never told me what the catch was," Maru barely swallowed before he spoke, prompting a frown from Masakage, as Atsumori had expected. "Why are you being nice to me?"

"You are a child in need in my town," Atsumori replied as Maru shoved another ball of rice into his mouth. He was almost certain that the boy wasn't even chewing his food before he was swallowing it. How he wasn't choking was beyond him. "Now, do you mind telling me where you came from? Who are your parents?"

Maru paused in his eating and slowly swallowed before he looked down at his hands resting in his lap. "They're dead," he replied quietly as his fists instinctively curled into balls. "The samurai killed them."

Atsumori lowered his eyes. Kai had been in contention for some time. He knew his people suffered when the armies rode through, and this boy seemed to be one of the many who suffered for it. "What brings you to Michizane?"

"It's where Kazegumo left me," the boy replied flatly, lifting his dark wary eyes to Atsumori's face. It seemed that he knew that his answer drew ire.

"He's a Sayonakidori brat," Masakage snarled.

Atsumori had expected that. More than one orphan had been dropped off by the Sayonakidori with no more instruction than to survive. More often than not, he would find them in ditches starved or beaten to death. Those who did survive were picked up by Kazegumo and taken back to their fortress in the valley and turned into yokai killers. They were effective, but at what cost? He smiled regardless of the changed attitude at his table, "You've got a good natural survival instinct. I watched you hold your own against those thugs. An impressive feat for a child so young." Maru didn't reply. He just watched him with those large, wary eyes of his, looking like he would bolt from the room at a moment's notice. "How about a proposition?  You remain here. You get food, clothes, a warm bed, and a roof over your head. In exchange, you assist my samurai with anything and everything they need. You gain experience, training, and you learn how to read and write."

"My lord!" Masakage snapped his head to look at him, bewildered and mildly offended if his outraged expression meant anything.

Atsumori held up a hand and continued, "All I ask is your goodwill, and when you return to the Sayonakidori that you remember this kindness and perhaps encourage your companions to remember me and my people when making decisions."

Maru narrowed his eyes and shifted in his seat. "That's it?"

"That's it," Atsumori nodded with another smile. "What say you?"

Maru paused and looked down into his bowl. He couldn't remember the last time he had food, let alone rice. That was a rarity even before his parents died. And meat? Meat that wasn't from some stringy little runt animal his father managed to drag back or scrawny leftover river fish? A bed? The thing that caught Maru's ear the most was the training. If he could learn how to use a sword, it would put him leagues ahead of the others. He could be the best. He looked up from the white mound of rice and nodded, "Okay."

Atsumori smiled at him and gestured to the table again, "Go ahead and eat your fill. You seem like you've been starving."