**Since a year has gone by**

The village of Konoha has remained vigilant. Peers have become closer, bonds strengthened, and goals broader. However there are some that have taken a step back from progression, a trouble soul after countless missions and acclaimed deaths. Midnight braves through the harsh blizzard of the Land of Iron, arriving at the temple of Samurai. The guards allow him passage, yet the idle bodyguards at the side of the shogun leer in disgust. Mifune sits upon his cobble-studded chair with a kiseru in his mouth. "Why have you come to my lands, shinobi?" he questions.

Midnight slowly removes his hood and takes a knee, bowing his head before he eventually gazes up. Voice troubled and somber.

"A wandering soul, my time as a shinobi has become one spent with blood. Lives taken by my blade and chakra, yet I question the duty we're posed as soldiers. As shinobi we are trained to kill at any means necessary, even if it means those of innocent. As long as the mission is carried out.."

Mifune's face was one of an ancient tablet - old, battered, yet full of wisdom. He took a calm inhale of smoke before releasing it. "You follow the way of Ninshu, the way of chakra that's used for all sources of life and creation. You've known this as you attend the academy, then again I'm an old man who knows little about shinobi more than I should. You've left your village, this makes you a rogue - doesn't it?"

Midnight falls silent for lingering moments before he speaks, "A rogue I am. I have no path, all i've learned has felt like a lie. All I have to my name is my blade - my title, the Midnight Blade. Not even my real name. I don't know my real name, my path is blurry.."

"And tell me, what do you wish for me to do for you?" Asks Mifune.

"I wish to learn the proper way of the blade, how to guide myself down a narrow path rather than broad. I understand what this mea-"

"A vagabond!" Mifune abruptly shouts. "That's what it'll mean. A man of no loyalty is no man at all. We samurai call those who stray from the path ronin, those without teachers or lesser. If a samurai is something you wish to become, you've come to the wrong area, boy."

How cruel, mixed emotions antagonize Midnight as they get the best of him. He stands, drawing his blade, throwing the scabbard to the way-side. "The oath I have taken isn't one I have broken, and yet I regret it. Why?! Why do I feel this way? This blade--my blade. It speaks to me, it's my only companion, the only thing I trust. No--I am the blade, and I've figured If I wish to continue my path..I must cut you down."

The guards draw their blades however Mifune refuses their efforts. "You draw your blade at me, are you prepared to use it? What will cutting me down do for you? Your future? Your path? Will my blood on your blade enlighten you..?"

The words strike his ears like loud drums, vision wobbly and blurry. His clammy hands tighten around the handle of the blade as he acts, launching forward with a luminescent bolt of lightning carrying him faster than ever. Sparks dance as he rushes with his blade hoisted for Mifune himself. "There's only one way to find out..!"

** The battle begins**

Mifune is quick to act, fluidly so. His movements in facade of his speed. Midnight missed by a long shot as the whirling breeze invites itself freely amongst the area. The samurai scoffs, blade yet drawn. "You insult me with your very step," he belittles.

Midnight holds no mood for banter, and the likes of venomous words only add fuel to the fire. A distant spark flickers as his blade cackles wickedly. A distinct shrill pierces the air akin the sound of birds, his blade crudely whipped asunder like drawing sword from stone. It's jagged, and creates a maelstrom of electricity in it's wake. "Chidori--!"

How foolish, the acts of ninjutsu in the presence of an relic. Mifune's eyes narrow at the sight as the buckling of clattered steel chime like bells. A rush of wind lashes out as Mifune appears on the opposite ends of Midnight, an eerie silence following after. Midnight looks in horror at the sight before him, his sporadic eddy of lightning cut clean in half. Static violently shrills as the messy blanket of electricity bursts into radiant sparks, one where it beautifully captures the sluggish movements of Mifune sheathing his blade. The blade, like a symphony, ends with a clatter of steel and Mifune's desired words fill the air as the lagging effect takes course.

"Ittoryu, Nichibotsu.."

A sea of blood splatters from Midnight's chest in the form of a very clean and narrow cut. His word dramatically slows as his mind ponders all that occured. Is he this weak? How could he fall to easily? Is this his death? The end of his chapter? His body collapses to the ground following the clatter of his blade shortly after. He lays there, motionless as a shadow approaches. One sought it to be death, but with sullen eyes reveal Mifune.

The man appears saddened by such an sight, his face riddled with disappointment as he watches Midnight bleed out on the cobblestone. "The ultimate arrogance is believing you can live a life without consequences."

What does this mean? Does he speak for Midnight? Himself? Who knows, however Midnight could do little to break words. Mifune crouches low and slowly turns Midnight over onto his backside, untying his head dressing whilst coursing through poetic words.

"Your head is too big for your body. Your eyes are too big for your stomach. You bite off more than you can chew, your head is in the clouds. But one day you're bound to come down. When you wake up, your feet will be firmly on the ground. And let me tell you, it really does hurt."

Spoken words, either they be true to the point or not, meant something to Midnight as he felt his vision grow weary. All his goals and life accomplishment flipped like pages in a book through his mind. Those he's betrayed, lied too, sinned. His head is in the clouds, and he fears he'll never reach down below. For as Midnight's body grows cold, his heart feels yet warm.

**A Sunset**

The sun arises over the snow covered alpines, birds sing their ballots in beautiful chorus as melting snow dribbles off a nearby cottage. A tree, healthy and sprung with fruit stands before it. The silhouette of tranquility broadens in wake of the rising sun. There, a traditionally garbed Midnight meditates upon the peak, eyes closed, relaxed. Over the course of months he's been nourished, fed knowledge and given a second chance. The radiance of chi flourishes around him like a calming river, eyes opening for the path ahead of him that now remains clear and without obstruction. For a man with many sins to have washed them away, perhaps he could return to home - where things could be better for him this year.