The mountain resonated low in the port. The wind that was chilled on its face got warmer as it paid a visit. It sent petals from each and every tree in the garden through the pavilion. There the elderly gathered to drink and compare teas. The sun rose here before any other had the chance to see. It melted minuscule portions of the mountain and the crops were satisfied. Good men labored in peace and isolation. Edo was prosperous although no foreign ship had made port in nigh on a century. Two men stood beneath the trees in the garden. One man was in his youth and the other well beyond it. The youth blended with the succor of the falling blossoms; the elder had a disgruntled rhythm that repelled them as they fell. The elder charged the youth and drew a simple wax-wood-handled blade. He ran through the garden kicking up leaves and swung his sword swiftly downwards towards the youth's shoulder. The younger man misled it earthbound and fed it to the dirt with the steel hilt of his own sword. Flawlessly the youth brought his sword from whence he had parried and pierced the man in his heart. Wiping his sword clean he said a brief prayer upon the body of the fallen. He was a Bushi, and one under service to none other than Jiro Sawati. Sawati had been the greatest botanist that Nihon had ever seen; he had also lived in Edo since he retired from his life abroad three years prior to the occurrence beneath the cherry-blossom trees. His entire career Sawati was protected by three samurai: Doran, Kenichi, and Hideki.

Hideki wiped Doran's blood clean from his katana. It was slick and didn’t take to the grass as well as he'd like. He washed the blood off in a stream; Hideki traced his hand down the blade to the point. It was uniquely sharp and he knew every dimple and slight curve. He pricked his finger at the tip every time he cleaned it to remind him that it hurt. The problem is that it doesn't hurt anymore. Sawati approached from behind and his men carted the body away for burial preparation.
Did you offer him a chance to leave? Sawati asked.
He would have said no, even had I given him the choice. He was stubborn, a man at war in times of peace. Hideki responded.
Even so a peaceful man would have broken his blade and sent him on his way. Doran had a family to feed.
You have a right to choose your employees; without them trespassing in your garden, trying to take out aggression for their shortcomings on the very men they swore to protect.
It's true that I do not wish to die, but no sooner would I wish it on an old friend, and now his family as well. Go repent at the temple. Kenichi will watch me tonight.

The petals followed Hideki from the garden. The walk to the temple had turned day to night. The temple was old, but its floors were maintained and well-polished. Hideki's bare feet brushed across them with eloquent certainty. The smell of floor polish mixed with the ever present incense and slightly flared his nostrils. He mumbled for a while about nothing, and then left. When he walked outside his nostrils flared even more. He saw smoke in the distance. He began to run; his legs were almost asleep from the hard-wood floor. He trekked through stone path, grass and mud road alike and finally reached his burned down home. Wisps of small forlorn plants petered in and out of the air in plumes of decaying splendor. He climbed through the rubberneckers in the crowd and into the ashen remains to search for valuables. He found none bar the studs from a leather dog collar; the fire covered a robbery, or looked like it did. Townsmen looked on him with pity as he ventured back to the temple; silently. He spent the night on hard-wood. His back was bruised when he woke up.

It was raining when he walked outside. He never ate breakfast; this morning he would not need fuel for the vomit-fire dwelling. He headed to see Sawati, where Kenichi said he was no longer welcome. Both men drew. Kenichi came down at an angle that could not be parried, Hideki blocked and then kicked swiftly at Kenichi's chest. Kenichi fell hardly on the ground. He was severely concussed. Hideki thrust his sword towards the chest of the panicked Kenichi. Kenichi was dead. Sawati walked outside and asked Hideki to walk through the city with him. Hideki sensed no need for urgency and complied.
It's over now I trust you know, said Sawati.
Yes, Hideki replied.
The only questions left are who lives and who dies.
I die. After I kill whoever destroyed my home, and my dog.
If I had any guess about it I'd say I know who did it. If I told you, you'd have to promise me.
Promise you what?
You know what.
You expect me to just fall on my sword?
Better than a life as an exiled and dishonored Ronin, no?
That the tables could turn in so few moments. I don't need to know. Better to be honorable ashes, than a broken man alone in the wilderness, depending on his skill with a yumi-bow. Here, take it; I've naught to say.

Sawati took Hideki's sword. Hideki drew a smaller Daikatana from his silken belt. There in the stone-paved street Hideki laid his head forward and pierced his belly crudely. Sawati swung downwards at his neck and severed head from body.

The smell of a sweet rose emerged in the air. It was as if something that longed to exist had escaped from an eternal prison. It was a happy smell, something meant for the time; something meant for any time. The blade cut straight through the neck and hit the granite of the street. It shattered. The shards were like adamant crystals drenched with blood. A slight shade of red persisted as the rain cleaned them. The sword was always clean. The blood always trailed down to Hideki's hands. Sawati urged Doran's family to attend the funeral pyre. Sawati thought it fitting that all three funeral pyres be separated to cull argument. Doran's son apologized to the gods for what he had done to Hideki. His name was Jin if I recall correctly; he trained under Hinan Ogidashi at a martial school from a young age and eventually became Sawati’s personal bodyguard and advisor. Before the pyre was lit cherry blossoms covered the body of Hideki as instructed in his testament. He was then laid down in a small fishing skiff and smothered with oil. As he floated the crickets were silent, Hideki always watched as not to step on them. The cherry blossoms forgave him for any time in which he did not bask in their beauty while passing through. Hideki’s sword was remade from the steel splinters. It was named: Heiko, or Equilibrium.