[i]This is a place where I will drop disconnected stories. The first is a story about a Japanese retainer, called 'Soichiro Shiretoko', who can be seen escorting his young lord, Kyonosuke, along a snowy trail at the start of spring.[/i]

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[b]Shocks[/b] of white, pink and purple clouded the sky. Hairy pines with snow on their branches cut through the mist. Maples stood below, an army of them with shocking red leaves. Further down the trail, a man was taking a stroll. He was wearing a black kimono with white fringes; white socks and brown geta; and his hair was neat and orderly, in the style of the house tutor, or scribe. At his side, a black katana; a tanto fitted across. He walked slowly, calmly, pushing a pram. In it, a small baby babbled.

The boy in the pram was red-faced, with a plump nose and a good set of hair. He looked up at the sky, painting pictures with his thumb. He tossed a spool of blue silk in his right hand. He seemed to enjoy tugging on it, as if the knot intrigued him. He was the hope of a generation. As intelligent as he was proud. He cared not for the cold. In fact, he seemed to be having a great deal of fun.

''Hm...?'' Soichiro murmured. He had stopped at the foot of the trail. He had almost lost his footing. He looked along the path, then studied the ice, realising the road had not yet thawed.

Steering the pram off the trail, Soichiro went down towards the lake instead. The water was creaming softly against the shore, like a thought lapping at the edge of his subconsciousness. The pram went on, bumbling as it went, and Kyonosuke could be heard giggling excitedly. The pram suddenly picked up speed; and sure enough, Kyonosuke warbled enthusiastically. Soon enough, the pram was rushing around the shoreline, taking up such a speed that the ducks and mallards kicked up in the air, shedding feathers.

In that moment, Kyonosuke saw the bamboo of the forest towering over him. The stalks resembled tall ladders. He imagined climbing them and entering a temple in the clouds.

Soichiro took the boy to the end of the trail; and over a low bamboo bridge, the sun had begun to rise.

They stopped in the middle of the bridge to laze in the sun, Soichiro gazing around protectively, Kyonosuke babbling as he looked at it head-on. The fate of the clan was in that boy, and there was a soft chime throughout the forest. Of ancient bells left there by Kyonosuke's ancestors. Somewhere, the spirits heard the call.

Soichiro seemed to move, his kimono bathed in the warmth of the sun. He stooped to break off an icicle. Then mixing some snow and ice together, he leaned off the trail to pick some blackberries as well. Soichiro came to the young Lord, then offered him the snow cone. The boy's lips were soon black with sugar and snow. The boy kicked his legs enthusiastically as his eyes turned very round. He was eager and defiant for more, as he should be.

''[i]Lord Kyonosuke,[/i]'' Soichiro spoke in Japanese. ''[i]We live a good life.[/i]''

Soichiro went to turn the pram around, but not before he noticed something. A murder of crows. Low upon the horizon. Not far from the bridge, and a good amount of damaged trail leading towards them. Bamboo with its bark cut and split apart, and perhaps a little blood on the running boards, leading down towards the lake.

The man reached for his tanto, then, taking the pram, steered it calmly towards the signs. For once, the Lord did not babble. Perhaps, he too, could sense that something was wrong...