[ IP ] Sword of The Fallen Warrior . Feel free not to use the name of the image .

I learned at an early age to not ask my mother about my father, because it always made her sad. Still, I would get bits and pieces from people in the village; just enough to keep my curiosity smoldering. 
 
 `` You have your fathers eyes, you know. Such a sad tale...'' 
 
 `` I once saw your father defeat five bandits, without so much as taking off his hat!'' 
 
 `` His sword still lies in the meadow east of here, where he fell...'' 
 
 I was, of course, forbidden to go east of the village, or any other direction for that matter. Once, when I was 13 and very angry at the boys in town, I berated my mother for smothering me, for not letting me grow up and become a man. I yelled, I swore, I insulted her in every way I could dream up. I told her my father would disown her if he saw the way she treated his only son. She said nothing as I ranted, calmly washing soiled linens, until I finally relented and gave her an opportunity to speak. 
 
 `` You are becoming a man, it is true. But I have already lost one man in my life, losing another would kill me.'' 
 
 That shamed me for a few days, but the young are not granted wisdom, they must earn it. So it was that I found myself east of town, in a green meadow, staring at my fathers rusted sword... and the demon who had killed him. 
 
 I call him demon, for I know of no other word to properly describe him. For all I could tell, he had been sitting there, in that very spot, for the 12 years since my fathers death. I was barely three feet from the sword before I saw him, sitting not three feet from the sword himself; an impossibility, it would seem, considering the meadow grass was barely tall enough to hide a mouse. He looked at me with eyes that did not seem to reveal any color, as if they were empty. 
 
 `` You are truly your father's son, if you venture to this meadow so soon.'' His voice made me cold. `` Tell me, Hikaru, have you even celebrated your 12th birthday?'' 
 
 `` I... I am 13!'' I knew he was taunting me, but I could n't resist. I wondered if my response sounded as weak and pathetic as it did in my head. 
 
 As if to respond, the demon threw back his head and laughed. `` So, here we are. Tell me, 13-year-old Hikaru, are you ready to pick up your father's sword and face me? If you would indeed be so bold, I might be inclined to let you actually pick the sword up, before striking you down!'' 
 
 More taunts, but this time I was not afraid. My eyes were drawn to the sword. It was obviously neglected: rusted, with a small vine creeping up the shaft. But there was something more here than just a rusted sword. There was a light coming from it, that I sensed but could not see. I looked at the demon, still laughing at his jokes... but his gaze was focused on the sword. I recalled Master Goro's lessons, `` Study your opponents body language, watch for small movements that will give away his intentions and fears''. I moved my hand towards the sword, ever so slightly....THERE! The demon's hand moved towards his heart, as if to protect himself! 
 
 I took a step backwards, and saw the demon relax. I could see that he feared this sword, above all things. The thought of even myself, a boy with little training who has never fought in his life, wielding this sword, was almost more than he could stand. 
 
 `` I know not what hell you come from, Demon, but your reactions make it clear that this sword is your bane. It has hidden power, does n't it?'' 
 
 A wry grin crossed the demons face. `` Yes, it is true. This sword's name is The Patient Leopard, and it has been in your family since the time of the first Emperor. It was your fathers duty to slay me with this sword, and prevent me from unleashing my terror upon the countryside. But your father failed, whelp. For the first time in 800 years, I bested a Jade Protector. And now, if you take up your fathers sword, I will do so a second time.'' 
 
 I look at the sword again, measuring the distance between it and myself. I imagine picking it up, rolling to the left, and slicing at the demon's neck. I have had little training in combat, sneaking lessons here and there when my mother was unaware. But looking at the sword, feeling the power coming from it... I believe I can slay the demon. 
 
 `` Come, boy! Let me tell you how I killed your father! When I sliced his throat, he made the same sound a pig does when slaughtered! Face me, and allow me to hear this sound again! Pick up your fathers sword... I will allow you to! Face me in battle! Prove to me your bloodline has not failed completely!'' 
 
 The demon is desperate, why would he... I was wrong, and nearly a fool. He does not fear me picking up the sword, he wants me to, more than anything. What is the swords purpose then, if not to kill? Could it be to... 
 
 ``... trap you?'' 
 
 `` Eh, what did you say, boy? Come, claim your fathers sword, and avenge his death, if you can!'' 
 
 `` You did n't kill my father. He sacrificed himself, to trap you hear, did n't he? You're bound to this sword, and this place, are n't you?'' 
 
 `` NO! Your father was a coward and he died a cowards death! Slay me with his sword, or I will kill every man, woman and child in your village, starting with your mother! The bitch will die by my hand! I will...'' 
 
 I step back again. The demon begins to fade, as if surrounded my an invisible mist. He's yelling and taunting me furiously, but it sounds like a far away argument, muffled by the wind. I turn away from the meadow, and look back towards the village.
