Many say the rain is beautiful. To me, rain is nothing more than an obstacle. The roads become muddy, and metal gets rusty. There is one thing about the rain that I like.

No one can see your tears.

At least, that is what i hoped happened. If that is not the case, then anyone who sees me will mistake the tears for sweat.

Strike. Parry. Thrust. Step.

Practice, practice, and more practice. This is the way towards mastery.

"A man can learn ten thousand techniques, but to master one, you must practice it ten thousand times."

Even now my master's words echo through my head. I hear his kind words, and soft voice, directing me while i practice the art of killing men. Not that he thought of swordsmanship that way. To him, it was a way of disciplining himself. But to me, it has a different meaning.

This country, it's government, and most of it's people, are corrupt. They need to be purified. If I must, I will hunt them down one by one and execute justice.

Starting with the bottom, I will cleanse this filthy world, and anyone who stands in my way. Purifying one who is guilty is worth the lives of any number of innocents.

My master taught me obedience and mercy.

I, however, will teach the world a different lesson.

I can't wait.