The boy met his gaze, trying not to tremble, though his knees shook and his breaths were shallow.

  Daichi knelt before him, eye to eye.

  “What is your name, boy?”

  The wind picked up, carrying the scent of cherry blossoms across the stone-paved road.

  “R-Raizo,” the boy stammered, still clutching the sword awkwardly in both hands.

  Daichi’s eyes stayed fixed on him.

  “What is this merchant to you?”

  Raizo glanced over his shoulder, breathing heavily.

  “He is… he is my father,” he said. The sword lowered slightly, its tip brushing the earth.

  Daichi followed the boy’s gaze to the figure hunched behind the merchant stall. The man was still cowering behind an overturned crate, too frightened to notice the ronin had already gone. His hands trembled around a bowl of spilled grain, his eyes locked on the ground.

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  Daichi narrowed his gaze.

  That man… is no father. He is a husk.

  Turning back to Raizo, Daichi stepped forward.

  “You lifted steel to defend what he would not. That tells me enough.”

  Raizo blinked, unsure whether to retreat or stand his ground.

  “You have a choice,” Daichi continued. “Keep his name—and his fear—or take mine, and all the burden and strength it carries.”

  The boy’s eyes widened.

  Daichi turned and strode over to the merchant, who flinched as the samurai’s shadow fell over him.

  “Do you want the boy?” Daichi asked, voice low, firm.

  The merchant shook his head rapidly, not even daring to look up.

  “N-No… take him. Take him.”

  Daichi gave him one last look, then walked back to the boy.

  Raizo stood frozen, his arms slack at his sides. The sword he’d drawn now lay in the dust.

  Daichi knelt, picked up the weapon, and brushed the dirt from the blade.

  “This belongs to you now,” he said, pressing the hilt into Raizo’s hands. “Not because you stole it… but because you had the will to raise it.”

  The boy stared at him, silent, overwhelmed.

  Daichi rose.

  “If you want a better life,” he said, “and a father who does not hide—come to the river road at first light. Bring the sword.”

  He paused, then added:

  “Bring your courage, too. The blade is useless without it.”

  And with that, Daichi turned, his cloak lifting in the wind as he walked back to his horse. Raizo stood rooted to the spot, the sword gripped tight in his small hands, eyes wide with something between awe and fear… and hope.

  The sun dipped lower behind the rooftops, casting long shadows across the street.

  Tomorrow would bring a choice—and the first step of a new name.