For to long have we held the burden upon our backs. We were vassals, and had been vassals, loyal and true. For generations we have held the Rouku Clan upon our backs. Their mistakes, the errors in judgement had all fallen onto our shoulders. It had made us stronger. Much stronger. The error of the Ojinin War, were our greatest ancestor, Soukra Mujikira, captured the great Castle in the Sea, a castle built upon a hill that was exposed to the land only on low tides, four times. He carried the assaults, and captured the castle. Then, the treacherous Rouku Jujiro retreated against a weaker foe. Mujikira had to commit hara-kiri, having lost his castle to the enemy.
Now is our time, as our leader, Soukra Yobirio trains an army deep in the mountains of Ichiguiri, archers of great talent. We will sweep the fields, the Rouku will know the power of the Soukra clan, the strength we absorbed from their mistakes.
Soukra Yobirio drew back the string, taut with the draw of the arrow. Aiming for the thick straw target, he eyed it with his clear black eyes. His body was strong from a couple of rough mountain living. Now he had descended into the lowlands of Ichiguiri to train his clans samurai. Slowly breathing out, he released the arrow. With a quick twack, the arrow sped forward and struck the target.
"Very good, Yobirio, your skills were as good as yesterdays," his friend, Asaka Matakiro pulled his own longbow out, and nocked his arrow. Drawing the string back, Matakiro aimed for the target as well, and let loose. Striking below the former arrow, Yobirio chuckled, his massive bulk heaving. It was like seeing a tax collector and his brute. The tax collector was stronger, and the brute had more brains, and Yobirio was proud of his brains. He had written several famous Haiku poems for his wife who lived in the home castle of the clan, Sakurana Matikiri.
Approaching from down the range, a rider, his three small flapping banners marking him a messanger.
"The autumn leaves, squirrels seek the acorns beneath the oak."
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