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"Hurry up with those fish!" a familiar voice called out. It came from a small townhouse that sat upon the hill that when you stood atop it you could see the whole valley. The valley was a peaceful area where the grass was always greener and critters were always at play. They were too scared to frolic anywhere else because of all the bloodshed that went on. The grass would forever be stained a blood-red. But no fighting ever took place in the valley. People would refer to it as the unscarred land because it was said that this part of the world was sacred and no mortal could draw arms there. But what was about to happen would undo the legend of the valley.

"Open your ears, lad!" the familiar voice called out again. A young man, no more than thirteen was startled at the racket and had woken up from a nice nap by a nearby pond. He was supposed to have caught the dinner for the evening three hours ago. He looked into his pail to see only three fish inside. That wouldn't do. He grabbed his fishing pole and placed the bait firmly on the bobber hook. He made sure his line was the appropriate legnth and then casted the line. His mind had gotten away fromt he bobber as memories of his childhood came flooding into his mind.

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"Oh please sir, won't you take him with you? He isn't any more than two and I can't let him live in this kind of world! Wherever you are fleeing to, please take him with you!" a womans voice cried to a man of no more than twenty-two.

The man thought a few seconds. The war was shifting right their way and there was not much time to act. "...Alright, I'll do it. Best of luck here," he responded, taking the child into his arms. He began to march off to a once said 'sacred place' to take refuge there. He would start a new life there with the boy and train him to be a fine swordsman.

And train the boy he did. At age seven the boy could already master the thrust and stab techniques. At ten he was able to immaculately parry attacks. Train day in and out was their hobby and the two had a father-son bond that he never had with his own father.

Hiro was the man's name and he was no more than twenty-seven at the time of the child's birth. He had no time at all to raise him because he was deployed right after the pregnancy and was never heard from after that. Most presume he was dead, others say he fled to the mountains to live in solitude. Nobody could be certain.

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The boy snapped back to reality as he felt a tug on his bobber. It was tough pull and the boy tried as hard as he could to get th eline back. The line had either got caught on something or this was no ordinary fish. So the boy grabbed his line and submerged into the pond, following his line as he went deeper. After a few seconds his hands met a shaft of some sort of instrument. His hands investigated the object more, only to feel a pain in his hand. It was something sharp, alright. With the boy's good hand he grabbed the shaft and let forth a strong yank and the instrument was free! The boy returned to the surface and investigated the instrument closely. It had a dark gray shaft and a long steel blade. The shaft had a glass eye jewel embedded in it. It must've been ancient! It was a craft of nothing like the modern craft. It was definitely more versatile than his current blade as well, making it an efficient weapon.

"Zora! Fish!" the man called out a third time. Zora grabbed the pail and untangled the line that had gotten tangled in the sword's shaft then picked up the sword and the fishing rod and turned for the townhouse.

The man stood in amazement at Zora's discovery that night. He was so amazed he didn't even scowl at him for the small amount of fish he caught. "Zora, this sword wasn't found on accident. I think you're the one who is destined to wield it. Use it wisely, for it may have abilities that no man today could dream of!" the man explained.

To the day Zora joined the town militia he has used the ancient sword. Little did he know that it would soon awaken and reveal it's true power...



((To be continued?))