Michizane, Kai Province, 1545

There was the sharp thwap of a wooden sword meeting his back as Maru collapsed to his knees with a shout of frustration more than pain. He saw Masakage circling him like a wolf, a frown on his sharp face as Maru got back to his feet. He picked his own sword up off the ground with a long exhale through pursed lips as he turned back to him with a glare. "Wipe that look off your face," Masakage snapped. "If you actually paid attention, I never would have hit you!"

Even if he had a point, it didn't make Maru any less irritated. One of the first things he began doing after Atsumori took him in was begin learning swordsmanship under Masakage. The famed "Demon of Michizane" was someone even he had heard of. Tales from the days of the infamous Brother's Rebellion were known even amongst the peasants, and he could vaguely recall his father speaking about it from time to time. Masakage's role in that rebellion won him fame and glory, striking down three of the best swordsmen in the province to defend his lord was a feat in and of itself. Maru may not have liked him, but he respected Masakage. He, too, had once been a peasant, and Maru knew from experience that overcoming that brand to become someone of such renown was not something easily achieved. So, he toiled away and dealt with the bumps and bruises.

They ran through the forms again and again.

Too slow. Thwack.

Too wide. Thwack.

Overcompensated. Thwap.

Not enough force. Thwack.

Too much force. Thwap.

Maru swore that his entire body was going to wind up as one giant bruise by the time Masakage had finished with him. He watched as Masakage observed him with something close to disappointment as he sighed, "You have potential, but you lack the patience you need to use it."

"Masa," Maru heard a familiar voice and turned to see who it was at the same time Masakage did. Only one human being in the world could get away with using a nickname on the famed Demon of Michizane, and that person was Hijourei. Hijourei was in some way attached to the Naotani Family, though how, Maru wasn't sure. He walked with a limp and used a cane. Some days were better than others, he figured, but every time, Masakage always made sure to drop whatever he was doing to help him. "He's a kid," the man laughed as he waved Masakage away when he tried to help him to the stone bench, "and I'm not an invalid!"

"Child or not," Masakage cast a hard glance over his shoulder at Maru, "if he wants to be of use to the Jitou, he needs to be better."

Better, the word made his hand clench by his side. He always needed to be better. He couldn't think of a single time that Masakage had complimented him or said that he made good progress. No, the most the older man always said was that he had potential, always accented with a "but".

You have potential, but you need to be better.

Your forms have improved, but you need to be better,

Your strength has improved, but it needs to be better.

Always a "but" and always a "better". He glanced at his wooden blade lying on the ground beside him and frowned. "What does it matter so long as I can kill it?" He asked as he retrieved it from the ground, knocking it against his leg to tap off the dirt.

"Any animal can kill," Masakage replied as he rested his wooden sword on the rack nearby. "Any idiot can pick up a knife or some rusted chunk of metal and kill someone. I am not teaching you how to kill. I am teaching you control, discipline, and how to use your body and blade together as one. Animals do not have that. Idiots do not have that. Having those things will save your life and elevate you above that baser level of fighting."

Maru saw Hijourei nod, "The difference between men and beasts is control. You lack that, you lack in everything else."

Masakage glanced at him with a long sigh before he folded his arms over his chest, "Take a rest. When I come back, we're starting from the top."

Maru didn't complain. He knew better than that. He just watched Masakage help Hijourei to his feet as the man gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "How many times do I have to tell you..."

"I'm not going to stop."

As the two made their way off to the main building, Maru looked around the courtyard as he let out a long breath he didn't even notice he had been holding. Michizane didn't have many samurai left after the rebellion, and the handful that were still around were always doing their best to keep up with training new ones. There was Masakage, the lone member of the almost extinct Naotani Family, Nasuyari and his family for the Harada Family, Old Man Tokunaga and his five sons of the Shimenawa Family, and Lord Inoue and Seibukame for the Inoue Family. Maru vaguely remembered hearing about the existence of an Inoue uncle in there somewhere, but that he had essentially gone self-sufficient recently. There were smaller clans scattered about that came and went, but the core group always remained the same.

He took a drink from his gourd before he glanced over across the training yard and saw Seibukame. He was posed with a bokken as Lord Inoue circled him, correcting his form with sharp smacks to his arms and legs with a wooden blade of his own. However, when his form was correct, he saw the lord give a wide smile as he nodded for the boy to begin. Maru heard them laughing and talking while they sparred, playful banter interjected with Inoue quipping out corrections as the sound of solid wood on wood resounded across the courtyard. There was a part of him that quivered in envy as he watched them. He wanted to have a father like that. Maybe his own was, but that had been ages ago as far as he was concerned.

There was the soft crunch of footsteps behind him, and he turned to see Atsumori standing beside him, arms crossed casually over his chest as he too watched Inoue and Seibukame. "You seem frustrated," the lord spoke, looking down at Maru as he did. "What's troubling you?"

"It's just... Lord Naotani is so... He's such..."

"An ass?" Atsumori supplied with a small smirk as Maru giggled furiously.

"Well, I was going to say something nicer, but..." Maru looked up at him and grinned.

"Masakage may be hard, but he will make sure you have no equal in swordsmanship," Atsumori rested a hand on Maru's shoulder, prompting the boy to look up at him again and smile. "Now, what do you say we... Oh, I don't know... Leave before he comes back?" Atsumori looked down at Maru and winked before the two quickly hurried from the courtyard in a flurry of laughter.

---

If he had to say something, Maru knew that Atsumori was the closest thing he had to a father. He caught himself slipping up and calling him that when it was just the two of them. Atsumori never seemed to mind. If anything, Maru saw his smile soften and he seemed to glow with happiness every time that Maru did. He knew little about what happened to the Jitou's previous family, and he never felt it appropriate to ask. All he knew was that there were four graves in a small garden near the back of the castle's gardens. One was for a woman, and the other three were marked with the names of young boys that hadn't even yet been given their adult names yet. He didn't know how exactly to approach him with the question. After all, the jitou had never pried Maru for questions about his own family. He simply resigned himself to not ever knowing the truth of the matter until he was good and ready to say.

It was one of the days where Atsumori pulled him aside and just sat to have tea with him. It was one of Maru's favorite times. There was no pomp and circumstance, no courtiers, no servants, and no bodyguards. It was just the two of them. Atsumori would make the tea slowly and with a practiced hand. He always told Maru that he wasn't good at it, but no matcha ever tasted better to Maru than the bowls that he would make.

"There was a monk," the jitou spoke as he began whisking the powdered tea together with the hot water, "that I used to know who could make the best bowl of tea you would ever taste. It is an art I never truly mastered, but when I make it, it truly does calm my soul. I couldn't tell you why. It is just tea, but... Ah! Listen to me ramble!" He chuckled as he divided the bowl in two and passed one small cup to Maru with a smile. "I heard that you and Seibukame got in trouble."

"More like I got him in trouble."

"Not the other way around?"

Maru giggled furiously, "I don't think Seibukame knows how to break the rules! Hey, chichi- I mean, my lord... Where is Seibukame from? I know that he was adopted by Lord Inoue and all, but..."

"Originally? He is from Joseon," Atsumori replied as he watched Maru down the entire cup of tea in front of him with a blink and a small shake of his head.

"Is that why he wears his hair all weird?"

"That's rather impolite."

"I know... Is that also why he speaks funny?"

"Maru."

"I know! It's not like I can ask him! Every time I do he's always "It doesn't matter" or "I'm Lord Inoue's son, who I was before doesn't matter"..."

Atsumori chuckled, "That is because Seibukame's father... He gave him away quickly and unceremoniously as a hostage, originally. It hurt the boy's feelings, but Lord Inoue always treated him like his own son. Eventually, Seibukame just decided that even when the contract ended, he wasn't going back. I think he simply identifies more with the Inoue than he does his old family. Don't take it personally."

"Do... samurai often adopt people into their families?" Maru asked, glancing up as Atsumori took a long sip of his tea, a look of blissful contentment crossing his face as he did.

"Well... I wouldn't say often. Many clans who lack male heirs often adopt, and sometimes, very gifted warriors can be given names, titles, and status. Look at Masakage."

"I'd prefer not to."

"Ha! Your wit is why I like you, Maru!" Atsumori paused as he went to take another drink and lowered his cup as he turned to look at Maru. "Would you like to?"

Maru rotated to look at him, "Like to what?"

"Be adopted into my clan?"

The question sent a wave of ecstatic euphoria through Maru's body. The time he had spent at the castle in Michizane had been the best time in his life. He had food, clothes, a warm place to sleep, and more than that, he had something close to a family. When he was ill, it was Atsumori himself who would sit by his bedside. When he would eat lunch and dinner, it was always Atsumori who would dine with him. He had Seibukame, Nasuyari, and even Masakage to guide and teach him. He learned to read and write, and he found out he enjoyed dancing. He enjoyed tea ceremony and music, and swordsmanship had become second nature to him as time progressed. He got to do so many amazing things with people who never looked at him as if he was lesser because of his birth. He already felt like he was a part of their family, and the idea of being in it in earnest, of being the jitou's son, was something he felt he had only dreamed about.

Then he remembered Kazegumo.

The man would check in on him from time to time, bring him books and weapons, and watch him from afar. At the end of the day, he wouldn't even be there without him. More than that, his survival was a contract with the demon slayer. The only reason Maru was alive was because he owed his life to Kazegumo. It had been him who had pulled him from the ruins of his family's farm. He had been the one to put Maru in Michizane in the first place. Maru owed him. Nothing like that could be free. It was simply the way of things.

He wanted to reply, but either response made him hesitate.

"Hey, Maru!" Maru glanced up at the wall and saw his friend Genji waving at him from over the top of it. 

He felt someone give him a push and saw Atsumori smiling at him. "Go on," the lord chuckled. "Your training can always wait, and so can your answer."

Maru grinned over at him and jumped up, rushing over to a small tree and clambering up before he jumped over the wall to join his friend without so much as looking back. The two walked side by side down the street, looking quite the pair. Genji had gotten bigger and filled out more where Maru was lean and lithely muscled. Side by side, Maru knew they must have looked the sight. Genji was dirty and unclean, dressed in worn clothes, where Maru was wrapped in fine linen and brightly dyed fabrics with barely any dirt on him except where he had fallen down during training. 

Genji grunted, "You're starting to look like a samurai."

"Is that bad?"

"You're running around in bright green," Genji shrugged indifferently. "Just makes you look tacky."

"Wow." Maru bumped Genji with his shoulder, "I'm still the same old me, Gen."

Genji didn't seem to completely believe it, "Whatever you say."

"I am!"

Genji hesitated as they rounded the corner, "Nobody stays the same after they get money."

"Oh... I don't know... I certainly can buy us more cakes." Genji slowly turned to Maru as a broad smile started to come across his face, "Oh, but wait! I'm too tacky!"

"No! No, you look great!"

"Oh no, I'm definitely too tacky."

"Maru, please!"

The two stumbled down the street, laughing merrily with one another the whole way. Besides Atsumori and Kazegumo, Genji had been the only other constant in Maru's life. Other friends may have come and gone, but Genji had always been there for him. Getting to slip out from time to time and see him like they used to was always nice, and that day felt like it would be another one filled with good conversation and better food.

Or, it was.

Maru looked up and saw a familiar figure leaning against one of the wooden buildings.

"Hey, Genji," Maru pulled out a pack of coins and pressed it into his friend's hand. "Go buy us some food. I'll catch up."

Genji furrowed his brow and looked at the building, his eyes catching Kazegumo. "Um... Sure, yeah. See you in a bit."

They parted ways, and Maru made his way warily up to Kazegumo, who gave a simple nod of greeting as he approached. "Maru," the demon hunter spoke, looking him up and down with another satisfied nod, "you seem to be doing well."

"I am!" Maru beamed. "Lord Atsumori takes good care of me!"

Kazegumo didn't respond for a beat before he continued, "I am to assume that they are teaching you what you need to know?"

"Yeah! I know how to read and write-!"

"And your combat skills?"

Maru nodded, "I know how to use a sword pretty well now. I'm almost good enough to beat Seibukame!"

"The Joseon boy?" Maru paused when he heard that. Kazegumo wasn't the only person to call Seibukame that, and it usually wasn't done without malice. "I've heard that he's good with a blade. Then it sounds like your training is progressing well enough." Part of Maru wanted to bring up Atsumori's offer, but something stopped him. Kazegumo looked down at him, arms crossed over his chest, eyes barely visible behind his somen. "Then I believe that you are ready. You have one more year. Learn what you can. When the time comes, you'll be more than ready to become one of us."

---

Michizane, Kai Province, 1546

"Footwork!"

"Keep your elbow up!"

The sharp sound of wooden practice blades broke the otherwise silence of the morning air. Maru wove his way around blows from Seibukame, his feet seeming to barely touch the ground as the two went back and forth. Despite having three years on Maru, Seibukame was having a difficult time keeping up. Though, if Maru was being honest, having the eyes of most of the samurai on him in a friendly match probably wasn't adding much to his comfort.

Maru caught him under the arm on one of his downswings. An armpit slice. Fatal at worst and debilitating at best. He smiled to himself and stepped away as Seibukame rolled his shoulder with a smile, "You've gotten good."

"You didn't make it easy," Maru laughed as they met in the center of the ring and exchanged bows. "Besides, if this was an archery contest, you would have destroyed me."

"Remind me to only ever fight you from afar," Seibukame quickly put him in a headlock and began to drag him over to the sideline as the other older samurai stepped in to have a friendly bout themselves.

Maru growled a laugh and tried to free himself as he heard Atsumori and Inoue laughing beside them. "Your boy has gotten good," he heard Inoue say as the older man looked at Atsumori with a smile. "You must be proud."

Your boy. It made Maru brim with pride when he heard it. "Seibukame is no slouch either," Atsumori chuckled, "but yes, I would say that Maru has improved greatly in the past few months. I could not be any happier."

Seibukame released him with a flick to his ear and a snicker as they stood back to watch Nasuyari and Tokunaga square up. "My money's on Nasuyari."

Maru snorted, "Yeah, like I'm taking that bet." Nasuyari was a behemoth of a man, all muscle, and a god with a spear. "He's going to destroy Tokunaga."

Seibukame leaned in close, "Want to know a match-up I want to see? Masakage against Hijourei."

"His leg is bad!"

"Once upon a time, they say that Hijourei was nearly unbeatable. Apparently, him and Masakage went up against Akechi Mitsukage and still couldn't beat him. Rumor has it that Masakage is the only man alive who ever drew the kensei's blood in a duel, and he still lost." Maru was having a hard time picturing Masakage losing, especially when he leaned around Seibukame and got a look at the man in question, who was watching Nasuyari beat Tokunaga into the ground with a rather serious expression. He had heard Atsumori mention Mitsukage from time to time, every time with reverence and a hint of sadness, and the only time that he heard Masakage mention the kensei was when he spoke of the single person he wanted to beat but never would have the chance to.

"What are you two whispering about?" Lord Inoue leered teasingly, prompting Seibukame to shoot away from Maru's ear with a broad smirk.

"Nothing, chichiue," he giggled furiously as the lord placed a hand on his hips with a fond shake of his head.

"I could tell you stories about Akechi Mitsukage," Atsumori stroked his beard. "He was a fine swordsman of great skill, a noble man, and an even better leader. He stood against Hijourei and Masakage as though they were novices and fought like a demon incarnate. Masakage could likely give a better description."

"I cannot nor will I," the samurai looked over with a frown. 

"I never understood why you won't," Inoue added with a raise of his eyebrow.

Masakage unfolded his arms and rested one on the handle of his blade, "Because attempting to describe the way he fought would be impossible, and I have no desire to downplay skills such as his. Maybe if I was better with words."

"He just doesn't want to describe how badly we got beaten," Hijourei chimed in, prompting a frown from his companion as Maru heard Atsumori laugh beside him.

Maru saw one of the servants quickly slip behind the assembled group and hurry up to Atsumori. He leaned in close to the lord's ear, and Maru saw his face change as his eyes quickly snapped to Maru and then back to the servant. Without a word, he quietly gestured for Maru to follow him from the courtyard. They said nothing to anyone else as the assembled group continued to watch the fight, and they followed the servant into the main hall where, standing there like a black shadow amidst the polished wood and examining one of the irreplaceable paintings hanging in a small alcove, was Kazegumo

Atsumori narrowed his eyes as he and Maru approached. "I hoped I would never have to see you again," the jitou spoke as he halted several long paces from Kazegumo and placed his hands on his hips. "Why are you here?"

Kazegumo turned from the painting and then lowered his eyes to Maru, "I am here to claim what I am owed, of course. I saved the boy's life, and now he belongs to us."

"He does not belong to anyone," Atsumori countered. What surprised Maru was the amount of venom in the jitou's voice.

"A debt is a debt, Sadamasa. I figured you knew that," Kazegumo sighed before he looked at Maru. "Gather your things. It's time to go."

"He isn't going anywhere."

"Why don't you let him decide that for himself since nobody owns him," Maru watched Kazegumo fold his arms over his chest and lock eyes with Atsumori, who stiffened at the use of his own words being slung back at him.

Maru hesitated. He always knew that the day would come when he would have to choose between the two men, but he hadn't imagined it would happen so soon. For as much as he adored Atsumori, there was one cold, hard kernel of truth: Kazegumo saved his life, and he owed him for that. Yet still... Atsumori was a lord appointed by the shogun. He could protect Maru, should he choose to stay. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, before he exhaled long and hard through his nose, and made his decision.