Ryozan found it difficult to believe that a man could partake in many battles and never be struck by a blade. Perhaps when one has the luxury of picking and choosing when and whom one fights such a feat was conceivable, but even so, the man before him must possess tremendous skill for his words to be true. He watched Mr. Sunshine play with his blade, trying to catch a glimpse of the style that he used, and what he saw was perhaps the most dangerous style of all: the blade moved as naturally as when he had stretched. No effort, not a single thought seemed to be involved in his flourishes; indeed, if a blade was that easy for him to hold, then perhaps there was some credence to what he was saying. 

Then, Mr. Sunshine plunged head-first into the tale of how he got his sword. It was an archetypal story of a man thinking he was invincible because of his weapon, and that overconfidence leading to his downfall. His people had plenty of folk tales like that, but apparently he had lived this story. As Ryozan listened, though, his defensive posture eased up a bit. Hearing this tale, Ryozan felt that this man knew not how to be duplicitous; he was what he appeared to be. This change of demeanor had little to do with the fact that Mr. Sunshine portrayed himself as a righteous hero -- anyone could make such claim -- and more to do with with how the story itself spoke to him. Ryozan could tell that Mr. Sunshine didn't care if he believed him or not. He just felt like telling a story. The devious make far more sense than that. 

Ryozan was quiet for a few moments after Mr. Sunshine finished, but not the same stoic kind of silence that he had set foot upon the island with. Rather, he was savoring the story which, admittedly, he enjoyed hearing quite a lot. "We have a saying where I come from," he said at last. "A story is only as good as one's love of telling it. It seems apparent to me that you enjoy that you enjoy telling that one quite a lot. I also feel it would be rude not return the gift with one of my own, though I'm afraid that I'll not be as skilled in my storytelling as you are." 

Ryozan pointed to the horizontal scar under his eye. "I'll tell you how I got this one." Ryozan made an effort to take the ice out of his voice and take on a compelling narrative tone as he spoke. He had some success, though he couldn't match Mr. Sunshine's expertise. "When I was 17, an underground rebellion attempted to overthrow the Tanzo family. The politics of it are complex and unpleasant, but what you need to know is that an unknown group of people wanted my family dead. They had already made one attempt on my life, but we were on high alert investigating the matter, and were very close to identifying the mastermind. 

"However, they moved first using traitors to set fire to our home in the night. Our guards both gave chase to the arsonist and tended to the flames, but that diverted enough of our resources for them to stage an all out attack. At that moment, it was revealed that two of our guards, one maid, and one gardener were traitors. Four out of a staff of over one-hundred does not seem like a lot, but it was all they needed. They maid could collect gossip and report guard movements from within our complex, and the gardener could do the same from without; all they needed was to wait for the day when their guards would be on duty to let them in. 

"I was woken by my bodyguard when the fire started, and fortunately I had taken to sleeping with my blade beside me. He led me through our escape route, but their spies knew of it and ambushed us. It was seven of them against two of us, but my bodyguard kept them at bay and sent me to run down another corridor. There I found a maid -- [i]their[/i] maid -- who appeared to be clutching her side and bleeding. Naturally, I stopped to help her, but I saw a faint glint of metal in the torchlight at the last possible second. The slash was meant for my throat, but I was fortunate and ended up with this." He tapped the scar beneath his eye once more.

"But, as you can see, I'm still here, so we managed to stop them and nobody in my family was killed, though many brave warriors gave their lives protecting us." Ryozan omitted how he delivered the killing blow to the maid. It was not something he was proud of, but he was not one to hesitate in a kill or be killed scenario. 

Upon finishing his story, Ryozan took his own sword out of its sheath, not threatening Mr. Sunshine with it, but letting the blade meld into his hand, becoming just another appendage for him to exert his autonomy over. The sunlight augmented the faint white glow that Shirogami naturally emanated, creating a dazzling spectacle that was merely a prelude of the swordsmanship that would follow. "Well, Mr. Sunshine," he said, his tone shifting away from that of a storyteller and towards that of a young samurai. "It's been fun swapping stories, but I'm afraid I'm getting a bit restless. You say you've never been cut before? I hope you don't take offense if I consider that a challenge."