As I climbed over the ledge near the peak of the highest mountain in the Shinju range, elation exploded within me. I had done it. I had finally reached the spot where very few have ever been known to reach. There, right in front of me, was the cave that I had worked so hard to find. The cave holding an ancient and priceless treasure. Too excited to rest, I immediately strode into the mouth of the cavern. Once I was a good distance in, the light became too dim for me to see, and I paused to light my torch. As I knelt down and was striking my flint and steel to the torch-head, a voice rang out from the darkness.
“Why have you come here?”
Strartled, I jumped up and pulled my sword from its scabbard. Try as I might, though, I could make nothing out in the complete darkness of the deeper reaches of the cave. As I stood there, straining my eyes to catch a glipse of who had spoked, the voice sounded again.
“Why have you come here?”
“Who is it!?” I demanded, still trying to penetrate the darkness.
An old man shuffled out of the blackness, walking with an extremely gnarled staff in his hands. He spoke again, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Why have you come to this place?”
I stared at him, dumbfounded as to how a man of his age could have possibly reached this spot, when many younger and stronger men before him have tried and failed. I quickly gathered my thoughts together and replied “I am a treasure hunter. I have come very far seeking ancient and powerful artifacts rumoured to be within this very cave.”
“There are no treasures here.” snapped the old man. “Why would you possibly think that my barren home would contain such things? One would assume than I would have a much nicer home if I were to have anything of value like that lying around.”
“Your home?” I replied. “You live way up here?”
“Of course I do. Why else would I be up here in the middle of nowhere. Not chasing false ideas of treasure, I assure you of that.” He said.
I studied him for a moment, taking in his hardened, weathered features, noticing how he moved, despite the staff, with a power and grace you would not expect of a man his age. After a minute, I said “If you live here, then surely you have heard of the legend of Genji.”
“Genji?” He looked thoughtful. “Nope, can’t say I have. Don’t get out much, though. Not suprising in the least. I suppose he was some manner of sailor then, the way you young people seem to adore the sea these days.”
I stared at him, exasperated at his ignorance of such an old and well known tale. After a moment, I began, “According to legend, there was once a mighty warrior. He was honored beyond all by those he protected. He was feared more than any by those who sought to conquer the land he called home. None know his true name, none know his land of origin. He is believed by some to have been born to the royal Monogatari family. Others believe he is of Hikaru blood. He has been labeled with many titles in the centuries since his death, but the most widely known of these is Genji.
As legend goes, Genji was a very young Samurai apprentice when he first began to perform deeds of extreme bravery and honor. He rose through the ranks of the Samurai coven quickly. Apprentice to the famous Musashi Myamoto, none could deny that he was recieving the best possible training. One day, performing his final test for his master, Genji came across a band of thieves attacking a caravan. despit being outnumbered by more than twenty bandits, he immediately drew his sword and rushed in to aid the travelers. After cutting down more than half of them, he was greviously injured. Despite his wounds, he continued to fight off the marauders. Seeing his seemingly supernatural power, the remaining bandits fled. Genji, knowing he was upon death’s door, asked a yound woman in the group to delivered the news of his death to his master. But, unknow to anyone else, the young woman was actually the daughter of a powerful god.
She had her companions put Genji into a wagon and take him to the Shinju mountain range. The conveyed his dying body to the peak of the highest mountain, where the girl’s divine father dwelt. Upon hearing of the valiant way in which Genji had saved hid daughter, the god then healed Genji, saving his life. In gratitude for the service Genji had performed, the god then told him to return in ten day’s time to recieve a gift of thanks. For the next ten days, the entire mountain range was covered in a think blanked of fog. Day and night, there was heard mightly bangs and clashes, accompanied by flashes of light. On the morning of the eleventh day, the fog was gone, and all was quiet again.
When Genji returned to the presence of the god, he found that the diety looked tired and drained. The god then presented him with a full set of armor, and a powerful shimmering blade, and explained: You will always walk this life with my protection. You will strike down your foes with power greater than any seen before. As long as you don this armor, no harm will come to you. As long as you wield this blade, no enemy may resist you.
Genji is fabled to have died of old age, as a hermit in the very mountains where that god resides. And that is why I am here. I have strived to lead the same kind of life that Genji led. I have lived my life, making every decision with one question in mind: What would Genji do?”
As I finished my story, I looked at the old man, and was suprised to see a tear running down his face. He looked like he was lost in memory. After while, he seemed to jerk out of his reverie, then looked at me and said “Sounds to me like he is a sort of hero to you then.”
I nodded and took a drink from my waterskin, “Yes he is the greatest man I have ever heard of. If only all men would strive to emulate him, this world would be a much better place.”
The old man sat looking at me for a long while, as if deciding whether I was being sarcastic or not. Finally, he turned around and strode deeper into the cave. Just before he disappeared into the blackness, he turned his head and said “Well, then, come with me boy.”
I immediately started to follow him, not knowing what to expect next. As we went deeper, I kept stubbing my toes on rocks, and running into the walls where the tunnel turned. After a minute of this, I heard the old man chuckle and say “Ah, forgot to turn on the lights.”
I heard him clap his hands once, and the cavern was immediately filled with light. But it wasn’t a cavern. Apparently, We had left the cave while we were walking, for we were now standing in what was unmistakably the main hall of an elegant palace. There were tapestries and painting everywhere, depicting various moments and events throughout history. All along the walls were set staues, wearing the most ornate weapons and armors I had ever seen. The floor and walls seemed to be made of the purest marble, and the pillars of obsidian. After staring dumbfounded around the room for a moment, I noticed that the old man was staring at me. I collected myself together and asked him “No treasures in your home then?”
He merely shrugged and walked toward a door in the far wall, beckoning for me to follow him. As we reached it, he turned to me with a stern look on his face. “Do not touch anything” He said, then swung the door open. There, in the middle of the room, set upon what looked like an altar, was the most ornate set of armor I had ever seen. It was made in the fashion of the Samurai of old, Blood red plates with black trim. Throughout the armor were etched burning glyphs and runes of power. It seemed to be shimmering in the light. And next to it, resting on a stand was the blade. Pulsating with power unknown, it was obvious that no other weapon could match it. The handle was of purest ivory, carved into the head of a mighty dragon. The guard was of a blueish silvery metal, etched with a scene of a large, terrible battle.
The blade was long and curved, and appeared to be made out of the same strange metal as the guard, but it glittered with what I supposed was diamond dust. There were glyphs and runes burning all along the blade, and a bright blue flame danced up and down it. I was speechless. Nothing could have prepared me for the sight. The legends said that Genji’s equipment was beautiful and powerful beyond belief, but actually setting eyes on it was almost unbearable. The very sight of the powerful Genji striding to you, wearing this beautiful armor and wielding this unimaginable weapon would have cause many to flee in terror.
After a long while, the old many turned to me and said “When my daughter brought him to me, he was barely alive. I came, in time, to think of him as a son. He returned here, at the end of his long life, to die. Where, according to him, he should have died to begin with.”
My head snapped around, “Your…he…then you’re…”
-END-