"From a child to a man, from a man to an immortal" Part 1.

Scene 1.

In a small village named Mizukaze, somewhere in the southern part of Japan, around the year 84 of the turbulent Sengoku period, a boy was born. A sturdy and robust little boy, the son of farmer parents, the third child of the marriage between Ran of Mizukaze, the daughter of the village blacksmith Yorimoshi, and Mamorou of Chiran, a young soldier who had lost an arm during the territorial dispute between his feudal lord and one of the many neighboring lords of the time—a disability that ended his martial future and eventually relegated him to a life of farming.

The birth had taken place in the mother's family home, and it had been quite a complicated affair. It lasted over seven torturous hours, from dawn until almost noon, severely affecting the mother's health and causing the family members to fear the worst many times. However, in the end, it had a satisfactory outcome. This humble and small family thus warmly welcomed its youngest member. Following the customs of that time in those parts of the world, they had agreed to wait until the next season before finally naming the child, lest misfortune decide to abruptly knock on their doors.

Time flew by in the blink of an eye. Three months had passed as if nothing.

It was a day of stormy rain, the rain that the farmers in the area had been eagerly waiting for, when the decision was made to give a name to the child. Guided by a natural event—the overflow of the river further up the village—and grateful to the gods for the long-awaited end to the drought of over two long years, the topic of naming the child arose during a family dinner. Kawakami. The idea had naturally come from Ran's mother, Meiko, who had also named her other two grandchildren previously: Tsuyoshi, the eldest, and Akihiko, the middle one. Kawakami meant "upstream" in reference to the river.

Thus began the official story of Kawakami of Mizukaze.

Time started moving once more. Five years passed in a blink.

Around the year 90 of the Sengoku period, life was going quite well in the village of Mizukaze for Kawakami's family members. The harvest had yielded a surplus large enough to sell at the market and generate some much-welcomed profits. Taxes had been paid diligently to their feudal lord. Occasional demon attacks had been dealt with satisfactorily. No one had gone hungry. No one had fallen ill. Kawakami was a happy young boy. A mischievous boy with a sturdy build and tender features, defined by his precious long black hair and sharp dark eyes. He always played with his siblings. He always helped his family to the best of his abilities at his young age. He always brought smiles to the faces of his parents and his grandmother. His innocence was so contagious that it erased fatigue and brought joy and comfort to the hearts of all present. Unfortunately, it was around that time that tragedy struck. Akihiko, usually the most curious of the three siblings, was found dead in the river—drowned, probably while playing in the water. The mood of everyone in the family plummeted as a result. Shouting, arguments, and tears followed. Kawakami was even forbidden from leaving the house shortly after his brother's funeral rites. His family kept a close watch on him from that point on.

It was during that time that the boy's dreams began. Dreams of another world, another era, another man. A man feared by all due to his unfathomable power. A man named Mordekkai. A man who held the title of Sword God of his time. A time when martial arts and the arcane ruled that world through strength. A world where individual power suppressed society under a single law—the law of the strongest. In that world and era, Mordekkai stood at the pinnacle of all and everything, and there he remained until his very death. Invincible. Untouchable. Unreachable. Defeated only by a universal constant in life—old age. On the other hand, despite the grandeur of the memories of that story, Kawakami felt nothing towards that man and his legend. Only disdain and, curiously, boredom. These feelings contrasted sharply with his usual cheerful and enthusiastic attitude toward every little thing around him. Naturally, he didn't share anything about these dreams with his family; he deeply feared they would think he was crazy, or worse, possessed by some malevolent spirit, especially considering the constant warnings in those memories about the consequences of speaking too much. Warnings the boy eventually yielded to for self-preservation. In this way, slowly but surely, unknowingly, Kawakami had begun to see the world differently. Because once again, ignorant of it, the boy wasn't just dreaming of the life of the great figure, Mordekkai, but he was doing so in the first person, as if he were Mordekkai himself. As if he lived a life as Kawakami during the day and then became the venerable Mordekkai in the quiet of the night. Kawakami was the reincarnation of that man, and he didn't even know it. Step by step, dream after dream, experience after experience, learning after learning, Kawakami's personality began to blend slowly with that of the so-called Sword God. Before long, he had involuntarily begun to reshape his body. It was simply something that happened on a day like any other and never stopped, even when questioned by his family about it constantly. He began a routine of basic exercises suitable for his age—push-ups, sit-ups, sprints—exercises that were later replaced by more advanced sword techniques and forms. His instinct urged him to set aside the natural activities of his age, like play and socializing with other children, for something he unconsciously deemed more productive, like strengthening his body, improving his reflexes, and meditating to calm the impulsiveness of his young, budding nature. All under the principle that, as long as there was peace and tranquility, preparing for conflict was wise. All under the mantra that only determination and dedication could lead to true personal fulfillment, because in the end, only with an unbreakable spirit could one achieve success in the many facets of life. Nothing was impossible with that kind of mindset, not even the immortality Mordekkai had coveted throughout his long and prolific life, because if there was one thing young Kawakami had plenty of, it was time. After all, with the wisdom and experiences of the Sword God at his disposal and the virtues that young Kawakami would develop, only the summit of strength was his limit. Thus, day after day, month after month, season after season, year after year, regardless of anyone or anything, Kawakami continued his training on the path of the sword. The spark of ego planted by Mordekkai's memories had grown stronger over time, until only that sentiment remained in Kawakami's chaotic inner world. "Only the path mattered." "Everything else was inconsequential." "Train, train, train." Kawakami buried the pain of his brother's death in his heart and vowed to make himself stronger. As strong as to ensure such a tragedy would never befall his family or himself again, even though the odds of that sounded laughable even to the vast life experience of the venerable Mordekkai in his memories. After all, human life was fragile, and misfortunes and calamities awaited to happen everywhere, just around the corner, in every corner, always in the form of death and suffering. Almost always as something unexpected and inevitable. However, there were also those who deluded themselves into thinking they could foolishly defy nature through sheer strength. Unfortunately, Kawakami, being a child and, therefore, innocent, a child with knowledge of the impossible made possible, and at the same time a child hurt by the tragedies life had brought him at such an early age, fervently believed in it, beyond reason.

And so, life continued. Nine years vanished in the wind.

Kawakami trained tirelessly during that time. He honed himself. He grew. He grew into a young man, a tall, strong, handsome young man, praised by everyone in the village for his precocious wisdom or the skill he displayed with the sword in occasional demon-hunting missions, even if he never boasted about any of them in particular—rumors were truly uncontrollable. The once-boy had become a man. He had become one with the sword. He achieved this before turning 15. He reached the pinnacle of what Mordekkai had taken a lifetime to achieve, and he was barely a teenager. From that point on, only his creativity remained to advance his martial skills, because if there was one thing Kawakami was certain of, it was that there was still much to be done on his journey, even if he had already earned the unparalleled title of Sword God with all honors. As a result, he had only one last step to take, even though the thought pained him deeply. Kawakami knew it was time. Time to embark on his journey. His pilgrimage. Over the years, he had bitterly realized that he couldn't do much to protect his family solely with his presence; it was simply impossible. There were too many variables beyond his control, even if he possessed the experiences of someone as wise as the Sword God himself. People died, simply put—there were no more explanations needed—whether due to old age, illness, or truly any misfortune that nature or humanity decided to throw suddenly in their path, as was the case with his grandmother, who had been found dead in her bed one day four years ago due to her advanced age, or his father, who had contracted a disease a year before that had left him bedridden for a whole month until he finally succumbed to it. Kawakami understood he had to live with the frailty of human life as he cautiously moved forward on his path, that someday this fate could befall him as well, and when that time came, he could only resign himself to helplessness while fighting a virtually lost cause, just as someone as great as Mordekkai had understood at the end of his existence. He had to accept this fact. Death would come to all, regardless of their status in society, their strength, their wisdom, or indeed any virtue that person might possess. Consequently, the conclusion was that everyone had to make the most of the time of existence they had been given, even if they were sick, disabled, or embittered by the circumstances life had dealt them. Giving up was never an option. From that reasoning, Kawakami inferred that it was his moment to leave the nest, spread his wings, and fly.

It was the first century of the Sengoku period, and Kawakami's farewell to his family played vividly in his head at this moment. The village that had seen him born and raised slowly disappeared behind him. He replayed that specific memory one last time, his heart filled with mixed feelings.

In the morning, nine hours ago. The residence of Kawakami's family.

"Take it. Father would want it this way, I'm sure of it. You were always good at playing with sharp things."

These were the sarcastic words of Tsuyoshi, Kawakami's older brother and the current head of the family. In his hands rested an old iron sword. Their father's sword. His expression seemed visibly bitter at this moment.

"I'll put it to good use."

Kawakami took the sword with a nod. Tsuyoshi patted his shoulder and then stepped back, making an admirable effort to hold back tears. Then, Kawakami's gaze shifted from his older brother to his mother, Ran. Tears flowed uncontrollably down the woman's face. A shiver ran through the boy's body in response. He then moved forward to Ran.

"Mother."

Without hesitation, Kawakami embraced his mother tenderly. Tears had also started to wet his face briefly. His mother returned the embrace tightly while lovingly kissing his forehead. After being in that position for almost a minute, they finally agreed to part. Kawakami wasn't crying anymore, and neither was his mother. He then drew the sword from its sheath and swiftly cut his hair with it in a single motion. His long hair was now reduced to an uneven length. As a result, his family members were alarmed by his actions.

"Kawakami!"

Ran's voice sounded the alarm.

"Younger brother!"

Tsuyoshi's surprised reply followed.

Both family members approached Kawakami simultaneously. The boy smiled at his mother's and brother's concern. His expression didn't reveal any doubt about what had just happened.

"I'll be gone for a long time. It's better if you have something to remember me by."

Ran nodded at her youngest son's words and then loosened the ribbon in her hair. A red ribbon that their father, the village blacksmith Yorimoshi, had given her many years ago when he was still alive. Her beautiful black hair cascaded in the wind. She handed the ribbon to her son. He took it without hesitation and tied it around his head firmly.

"Goodbye, mother, brother."

The three of them embraced one last time before Kawakami's departure.

Nine hours later, late afternoon. On the southern road outside the village Mizukaze.

Reliving that memory one last time, Kawakami cleared his mind and continued his journey once again. His hand touched the ribbon on his forehead, and then his other hand did the same with the sword at his waist. A sigh escaped his lips subsequently.

"Sigh."

His pilgrimage had officially begun. What the future held for him remained a mystery yet to be unraveled.