The Gaishi

A Fallen Petal

Many generations ago in a land now forgotten by men, things such as honor and courage thrived throughout the lands. Men were not troubled by money or riches but by the strength of their heart and will. In these times, the heart of the warrior was the mightiest of all and the samurai was the mightiest of warriors. Not swayed by greed now driven by lust, the samurai’s resolve was as straight and true as his blade. Forgotten are their ways, the way of the warrior, the way of Bushido. Guided by honor and honed in the fires of courage, the samurai knew no equal.

But not all samurai were guided by Bushido. One warrior, disputably the greatest in all the land, was guided by his heart. If asked this samurai would tell that the way of Bushido was found not through the blade, but though the heart. It was his credo and his shinjin. So great were his beliefs that when asked of them he simply unsheathes his blade and swings at the wind. “Does the wind ask the waves why they dance with it?” he replies. “My heart echoes in my blade and it is in its wake that love will be born.”

Guided by his heart, the warrior traversed the lands freely. Claiming no man as his master and following no path but his own. Many great warriors came from around the lands to challenge the warrior’s beliefs. They all came to him with the same argument; Bushido is the way of the warrior not the way of love. They all fell to the blade of the warrior and the last words they heard before passing to Jouten were always the same; is not the warrior guided by love?

The warrior became strong. Disputably the mightiest in all the land. But he still lacked what his heart sought; love. It was not until, under the pink cherry blossoms of spring did the warrior finally find what his heart yearned. Under the grandest of all cherry blossom trees, on the finest of mid-mornings, on the clearest of days in spring, the warrior saw a creature who’s beauty rivaled the lands in which he traveled so freely. In her eyes he saw the oceans of endlessness. In her cheeks he saw the blossoms of spring themselves. And in her smile the warrior saw his soul.

Entranced by this creature, the warrior laid his weapon down in an effort to show her how much he was honored to be in her presence. Mystified by the warrior’s free spirit and warm heart, the creature welcomed him with open arms. The two, entwined by the spring air and bathed in the showering petals of the cherry blossoms, gazed upon each other only briefly. No words were spoken. Only actions. Drawn close to one another by a force unexplained, their lips met in a symphony of unquestionable and undeniable love.

The warrior and the creature of spring were one. They had been destined by the stars to cross paths and they were fated by the lands to give one another their hearts and souls. With the warrior’s heart finally sated, he had seen the meaning of his beliefs. Steeled and tempered by this triumph, the warrior continued his journey across the land, his new found love clenched firmly to his side.

In this journey never ending, the warrior and the creature of spring spent many years happily embracing their love and the path they traveled. But the warrior’s way soon caught up to him. Seeking him out once more, samurai after samurai challenged his beliefs time and again. Each new samurai falling to the blade of love that the warrior brandished.

One spring later, the warrior and the creature of spring traveled back to that place they had met. The cherry blossoms, as if to herald their arrival, bloomed brightly and magnificently. But the warrior was challenged once more by a samurai who held a blade similar to the warrior’s.

“Bushido is neither the way of the warrior nor the way of love,” the samurai claimed. “It is a journey, a path in which one follows.” Not swayed by the samurai’s argument, the warrior unsheathed his blade and sliced the air around him. With a single strike, the warrior split a falling petal in twine. Gazing upon his opponent he prepared for the argument of battle.

Clashing in a magnificent display of wind and steel, the warrior and the samurai met toe to toe on the field of spring. The creature, looking on with unwavering love and devotion, knew in her heart that her love’s resolve was unwavering. But she believed in the words of the samurai. “Bushido is a path, my love. A path we have traveled for a year now,” the creature spoke.

Shaken to his soul by the words spoken, the warrior lowered his blade. With a swing and spatter, crimson red doused the pink flame laid down by the cherry blossom’s rain. Rushing to her love’s side, the creature held the warrior in an embrace that warmed him. “But it is a journey that is filled with love. For if it were not, how would the winds have taken you to me?”

The warrior, scared by the samurai’s blade, held his head high and picked his blade up once more. Looking to the horizon, his heart was now filled with warmth and love. Seeing the truth in the samurai’s words, he sheathed his blade and bowed respectfully to his adversary.

“If Bushido is a journey then love is the path in which I travel.”