The War of Crimson Banners had already burned for three years. Across the land, villages were reduced to ashes, fields were trampled by marching armies, and the banners of rival lords stained the horizon like drops of blood.
On one battlefield, beneath a sky choked with smoke, a lone cry could be heard—the cry of a child. Among the fallen soldiers and shattered armor, a small baby lay wrapped in torn cloth, his tiny hands reaching toward the dark sky.
Two figures approached carefully. A man and a woman, both wearing worn traveling clothes, not soldiers.
The man knelt beside the crying child. "…A baby?"
The woman covered her mouth in shock. "Who would leave a child in a place like this…?"
The battlefield answered silently.
The man gently lifted the infant. The child stopped crying the moment he was held. "…He's alone," the man said quietly.
The woman looked around at the bodies scattered across the field. "…Then he has no one left."
The man stared at the baby for a long moment before sighing softly. "…We can't leave him here."
The woman smiled faintly. "I was hoping you'd say that."
She carefully wrapped the baby in a cleaner cloth. "What should we name him?"
The man looked toward the distant battlefield banners fluttering in the wind. "Toya."
For the next year, the couple lived hidden deep within the forest. They avoided roads, avoided towns, and avoided soldiers. The war had turned the entire region into chaos, and survival meant staying unseen.
Yet even in the middle of war, the small forest home was filled with laughter. Though he wasn't their blood, the couple loved Toya like their own son. The man taught him simple things—how to gather wood, how to fish in the river, and how to walk quietly through the forest. The woman told him stories at night about peaceful times before the war.
But war does not last forever.
After a year, the sounds of battle slowly faded. Travelers passing through the forest spoke of defeated armies and peace treaties. The War of Crimson Banners was finally coming to an end.
One evening, the couple made a decision. "We can't stay hidden forever," the man said while staring into the fire.
"There should be towns rebuilding by now," the woman added. "We can start a new life."
Toya, now a small child, sat beside them quietly, unaware that his life was about to change again.
And so they left the forest.
Days later, they arrived at a small town nestled between hills and farmland. The town was humble, but it was alive with people trying to rebuild their lives after the war.
The villagers welcomed them warmly.
For the first time since the war began, Toya had a home.
Years passed peacefully. Toya grew into a cheerful boy and quickly made friends with the other children in town. They played in open fields, climbed trees, and sometimes snuck down to the river to swim.
His adoptive parents worked hard, but they always smiled when they saw him.
To Toya, life felt simple, safe, and happy.
But peace in a war-torn land is fragile.
One night, the sound of galloping horses shattered the silence. Moments later, screams followed.
Flames rose into the night sky as armored samurai stormed through the streets. Imperial banners fluttered behind them.
The soldiers showed no mercy.
Houses burned. Villagers ran in panic. Anyone who resisted was cut down.
Toya woke to the smell of smoke.
"Toya! Wake up!" his father shouted while shaking him awake. "Stay behind us!"
Outside, chaos filled the town.
Samurai cut down anyone who tried to escape. Toya's mother pulled him close, her hands trembling. "What's happening?!"
His father's face was pale. "…The lord."
"The town refused his new taxes," he said grimly. "Now he's making an example of us."
A group of armored samurai turned the corner.
Steel flashed.
Toya's father pushed him backward. "RUN!"
Toya stumbled and fell into the dirt. When he looked up, he saw the blade, the blood, and his parents collapsing to the ground.
"Toya… run…"
Those were the last words he heard from them.
The boy froze.
Something deep inside him shattered.
Around him, the town burned. Friends screamed. Neighbors died. The imperial samurai marched through the streets like executioners.
Above the chaos, banners bearing the symbol of their ruler waved proudly.
The ruler of the region. A lord known for cruelty.
A man feared by all.
Lord Takamori.
Toya clenched his fists as tears streamed down his face.
In that moment, a seed was planted inside his heart.
Not fear.
Not despair.
Hatred.