text: Five stones stood beneath the peach tree. Fallen petals floated on the wind. &#x200B; In our valley beneath the sun, where the wind whispered and birdsong coloured the air, the ground was ever fruitful. Flowers bloomed in the spring, and scented the breeze with sweet jasmine. Uncle Benkei worked in the field as we played amongst the grass, and our infancy was filled with love. Our mother and father were taken by a sickness when I was too young to know them, so uncle Benkei brought me and my sister Sakura into his home and raised us as his own. For five years uncle Benkei taught us how to work the land, tending rice fields once nurtured by our grandfather, and his grandfather before him. &#x200B; On the eve of my seventh birthday, once the sun began to set behind the western ridge, and the fireflies spoke softly in the failing light, uncle Benkei upheld his promise to me, and began instructing me in the ways of combat. Although I was not as naturally gifted with a sword as others my age had been, he sensed the hunger in me. 'Be a rock.' he would say. 'No matter the wind. No matter the rain. No matter the opponent. A rock is unyielding.' I longed more than anything to make him proud. He was tough, uncompromising, and formidable. But he was all that I had, and I loved him dearly. &#x200B; For uncountable nights, we trained beneath the watchful stars of the moonlit sky. My fingers would bleed, and my feet would slip in the mud. But uncle Benkei never gave up on me. When at last I became seventeen, he bestowed upon me that which was always meant to be mine. The sword of my father. 'If you accept this blade, you make a promise.' he said. 'With it you will protect your family, your home, and your honour. Appear strong when you are weak. Appear weak when you are strong. Be kind to those who need it. Be merciful to the defeated. Choose wisdom over anger.' I made my promise. I was ready. &#x200B; Two winters passed, and as the trees began to wake, uncle Benkei fell gravely ill. The sickness that once stole my parents had returned to the valley. It was unmerciful, and many perished by its hand. Sakura cared for uncle as I worked the rice field. He was ever a rock as he had been in battle, and clung to life when all others around him succumbed. Though he eventually recovered, he was never again able to stand. That summer, they came. &#x200B; Beyond the mountains to the north, from the region of waring clans, death marched relentlessly towards us. Oda Nobunaga - a cruel daimyo who sought to unite the country under a fist of blood - sensed an opportunity with our grief stricken valley, and set upon us in the night with cruel intentions. Legions of soldiers, lead by Oda on a campaign of death, slaughtered dozens of innocents as they tended to their sick and dying. Against Oda's minions of cruelty the villagers never stood a chance. Without strength to move, uncle Benkei was unable to fight, and he was forced to take shelter with Sakura behind our house. I stood affirmed and ready, awaiting my destiny in the jasmine field. &#x200B; From the darkness of the trees, two shadows took form. Swords were drawn. I became a rock. We danced together among a flurry of slashes, and our blades sang in the moonlight. Uncle Benkei danced through me, and my opponents found rest among the jasmine. &#x200B; The valley was laid waste. Our farms were destroyed. There was no life for us here anymore. I returned to the house to search for Sakura and uncle Benkei. &#x200B; I found them. &#x200B; I surrendered my fathers sword to the flames. I had broken my promise. &#x200B; Seven stones stand beneath the peach tree. Fallen petals float on the wind.