I walked through the countryside as the wind was sweeping through the tall green pasture. I was burdened with the guilt of my gruesome past. I suppose, I must atone for my sins by carrying it. Arriving at the edge where I encounter a forest, each bamboo tree stood tall as they remained unshaken by the breeze. Feeling this burden burn scorchingly inside, I paused myself and began to pray not before the old gods of my ancestors, nor before the stone idols of forgotten shrines, but before the One whose name had reached me from distant shores. In my prayer, I whispered “Lord God, why would you have grace over me despite slaughtering your children in my sinful life. Why did your son die for a man whose hands are drenched in sin? If you truly have it in your heart to forgive me, let your mercy cleanse my troubled heart as the river does the stone. If I have to unsheathe my sword, let it be from a place of selflessness and righteousness for your children and kingdom. In Jesus name…Amen.” After ending the prayer, I see remnants of a Shinto shrine, half-consumed by creeping ivy. Seeing it makes me think of my former belief decaying.
I continued to venture off until I stopped at the closest village named Kurogane. The heavy burden in my heart eased more when I hear children laughing and the villagers working peacefully. It was like this village brought a serene sense of harmony in me. As I traverse the village, the villagers gave me a puzzled glare. Those stares translated to horrified spectacles in my mind as the sound of children cheering and villagers having chattering warped into blood curdling screams, sounds of body mutilation. Amidst the condemnation, I see demons in armor butcher the innocent as they were drunk in violent frenzy. Burining with guilt and shame, I hid my face and walked about.
To quiet my mind, I went to a restaurant. As I entered, there was not a lot of people. All there was is villagers dining in silence as they paid little to no attention to my presence. I sat down by the counter table as I took out my weathered Bible. The wear and tear of it is a reflection of my mental scars so to me it is not just a book, it is a symbol and instrument for my redemption that is if I will ever earn it. As I wait for the waitress serving the other patrons, the memories slowly came back as the sound of chewing and drinking from the patrons are slowly distorted into the sound of scorching crackling flames, swords clashing and slashing, chilling cries from the innocent. The sins I committed drain my spirit like a parasite. Amidst the burden consuming me, I heard a faint voice calling me. Eventually, it gotten louder and louder until I am snapped back to reality. Finally, I reawakened from the past as the voice turned out to be the waitress I was waiting for.
The waitress asked, “Hello sir, can I take your order?”. “Yes, you may, I would like a bowl of rice” I replied. “On the way.” the young waitress replied. When she head to the kitchen, a group of bandits barged through the doors; looking at them gives me the intuition that they were up to no good. One of the bandits said “Hah! Just stepping in here makes me sick. It’s like these fools forgot how to bow to real men.” then he proceeds to spit at one of the patrons rice. The patron couldn’t do anything about it because if he yells at the bandits, his head will be cut off. The bandits walked around spreading fear onto the hearts of the customers like they were malevolent spirits roaming around. The owner of the restaurant who happens to be an old lady comes out of the basement to investigate the rowdiness. She was petrified at the sight of the bandits. One of them, noticed her and said “Oi, old lady, give us some free food to compensate us!” “Don’t worry, I’ll prepare it for you!” She ran off to the kitchen in a timid manner. The sight of the strong bullying the weak fills me with disgust but who am I to judge, I was once in their shoes.
Next, the waitress brought my rice. Despite its plain appearance, it has a distinguishable aroma. As the smell pierces through my nostrils, I bowed my head down to give thanks to God which the bandits caught wind of my muttering. During my prayer, I heard footsteps of one of the bandits, it gets louder as he approaches closer to me. Once he reached my space, he said “Hah! A samurai bowing to some foreign god? Pathetic.” As I’m about to end the prayer, he smacked the back of my head to provoke me and said “Don’t you samurai supposed to have a sense of pride?” When I ended my prayer, I turned to face the bandit with a glare. “What’s a samurai like you doing here? These sheep already lost their shepherd.” the bandit said in a mocking tone. I diverted my attention from him onto my food. As I chewed on a chopstick of rice, the bandit said “I don’t know why you people follow such pathetic faith.” I remained calm and collected until he attempted to grab my Bible. “And as for your crappy book, I wonder why-”
Before he finished his sentence, I gripped his wrist tight like a tigers razor-sharp canines on a prey. “THE HELL ARE YOU DOING!” he asked as he attempts to unsheathe his katana. I gripped it with my other hand as I butthead onto his nose as it started bleeding. This caught the attention of the other bandits so they released their katanas and lunged like a pack of starving wolves. I got off my chair as the bandit I headbutted fell and screamed in agony. “You will pay for this!” said the nose bleeding bandits. As I stood unshaken despite the uneasy tension, I observed their stance to analyze their fighting style to know if I can handle them barehanded. If it was the old me, I would have swatted them down with my sword like flies but because I embraced my newfound faith, I’m stuck in a dilemma. My thinking got interrupted when five of them charged at me. I leaped onto the cellar, gaining the high ground. As one of the bandits rushed toward me, I pivoted and launched a flying kick, my heel smashing into his jaw. He collapsed instantly. The remaining four spread out, circling me like wolves sensing blood—but I studied them, searching for a weakness. I noticed they’re becoming more frantic to the point where they are impulsive which was a tactical advantage. I stepped on the short legged table as a bowl of soup poured over one of the bandits faces. He screamed in immense pain. Three blades came for me at once. I shifted, catching two by the hilts, feeling their steel bite into my palms. The third blade whistled past my cheek as I twisted, using my grip to wrench one attacker off balance. I twisted, hearing the sickening pop of a shin snapping beneath my weight. Pain flared through my hands as I yanked a blade free, slashing upward. Blood splattered into the bandit’s eyes—he staggered, blinded—just enough time for me to drive an elbow into his jaw, feeling the crack of bone beneath my strike. For the last one, I chopped his neck which made him drop to the floor.
Having ended the fight, the bandits appeared badly bruised as one of them whimpers in a mix of fear and embarrassment “You done it now! Wait till Ryonusuke hears about this!” Before they left, the bandit I headbutted asks “Before we leave tell us, why didn’t you kill us with your katana, you literally have it on you right now or is it just for style?” I replied “You’re alive because I chose mercy. If I were the man I used to be, you’d be dead before you hit the ground.” Understanding the horrific implications of what I told them, they scattered like roaches when the light hit. After witnessing all that has happened, the young waitress was astonished meanwhile I went back to my table to finish my rice. While I was eating my rice, the waitress went to the kitchen to look for her boss. By the time I finished my rice, the old lady and young waitress came back in and the young waitress told the old lady “This ronin is one of us, reason why I believe so is because he shown mercy towards the bandits. With his great strength, he can liberate Kurogane” The old lady’s eyes started to expand and glimmer with hope.
The old lady approached me and asked, “Sorry to bother you but what is your name?” “Daigo Arasaka” I replied. “Nice to meet you Daigo, my name is Mokoto Miura and this is my granddaughter Hana.” “Pleasure to meet both of you” I said. With a tone of depsperation, Mokoto said “I know its a lot to ask but please, can you free this village from Ryunosukes tyranny. He is the leader of the bandits like the ones you just beaten except he is more cruel. We are under his rule is both we can’t defend ourselves and he will report to the shogun about us practicing our newfound faith ” I feel empathy towards her troubled tone. These feelings started to amplify when she said, “As a matter of fact, this restaurant is actually a covert church for all of us to gather. Please find it in your heart to free us from his oppression.”
Burdened by iniquity and the fear of returning to my old ways, I refused her plea without hesitation. I lowered my gaze and said, “Because I am not worthy of being this village’s savior. I was once a ruthless butcher who struck down believers like us without question. I have taken so many innocent lives that I lost count. When the veil of blind obedience to my homeland’s ruler was lifted, I saw the horrors I had committed—and I was afraid. Afraid of the man I had become.” I tightened my grip on my katana, as if holding onto my resolve itself. “Even now, though I pray only to take lives for the sake of others, I fear that spilling blood again will drown me in my past sins. That my atonement will be buried, and I will be condemned all the same. I cannot go back down that path. I’m sorry, but I am not the savior you’ve been praying for.”
Henceforth, I dropped some coins on the table to pay for the meal as I thanked them for providing the nourishment. As I left the restaurant, I pondered on the decision I made. Was that decision made out of righteousness or was it my cowardice disguised as pride. As a matter of fact, was what I did really aligned with repentance? Am I doing the right thing by denying salvation for the believers of my newfound faith? Does God want this? These questions circulate around my mind like a puzzle I am attempting to solve.
While I was racing through these thoughts, I sat underneath a tree by the cliff far from the village. The fleeting thoughts silenced when I shut my eyes. When I fell asleep, my mind became clear like thestreams clearing the fog when spring comes in. But that brief moment of peace ended, I started having a dream.
In my dream, the gentle stream transformed into the Sanzu River, its waters dark and churning with the weight of countless sins. I stepped forward, only to find that while innocent souls glided across a fragile bridge of light, the river around me roiled like a tempest of retribution. Shadows of those I’d once slain—faces contorted in eternal anguish—rose from the depths. Their voices, like the rustle of dry bamboo leaves, accused me with a single, relentless refrain: “You can never wash away the blood.” As I waded deeper, the chill of Buddhist Jigoku seeped into my bones, and from the murk emerged a decrepit monk, his form half-faded like mist. His hollow eyes bore into mine, condemning me for a life spent in blind obedience to a brutal code.
Before I could turn away, the scenery shifted into the decaying realm of Yomi-no-Kuni, where vengeful Onryō—twisted, spectral figures of those I had wronged—clawed at my soul. One childlike spirit, its eyes empty and accusing, whispered, “Prayer cannot cleanse what your hands have done.” The water surged around me, as if to drown me in the sins of my past, and I could feel the icy grip of destiny tightening—threatening to pull me back into the endless cycle of violence I so desperately wished to escape.
Meanwhile, Ryunosuke arrived at the village seeking me after hearing stories from the bandits I beat up. He herded all the villagers and demanded for my presence so I can duel against him and his army of bandits. When the villagers couldn’t find my whereabouts, he began to lose his patience and started slaughtering the villagers, their screams gave me flashbacks of the wrongs I’ve done. When I notice the bandits about to burn the restaurant, I remembered it was a covert church so with conviction I rushed to the village. When I ran, my condemnation became of little to no concern to me as I can’t let the villagers suffer knowing I have the power to stop it.
When I arrived at the village, Ryunosuke paid attention to my presence and said “There he is, there’s the ronin that caused trouble for my men.” He then proceeded to point his katana at me and said “Honestly, I’m impressed that you managed to handle five of my men with your bare hands. Tell me what is your name?” In a steady and calm tone, I replied to him“My name is Daigo Arasaka, and I am one of the very people you hunt. I have seen the weight of bloodshed, and I swore never to stain my hands again. But you… you’ve left me no choice.” I proceed to draw my katana in an offensive stance. “So this is the mercy of a Christian? A blade instead of a prayer? You’re no different from the rest of us—you just hide behind scripture.” said Ryunosuke.
Ryunosuke sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “I can’t believe you fools cling to this foreign delusion. Praying for a savior? Pathetic. If he exists, we’ll cut him down just like the rest of you. You’re all at my mercy now.” He stepped forward, sizing me up with a smirk. “Tell me, Daigo—does your so-called savior look like you? That bloodlust in your eyes… it doesn’t match the meek little saints your scripture preaches about.”His smirk twisted into a scowl. “Enough talk. You’re outnumbered. There’s no hope for you or your people. Kill him!”
They came like a black tide. I exhaled. One breath. One strike. Steel flashed. A man fell. Another lunged—I cut him down. A spear thrust—I deflected, countered, and blood spilled. Arrows whistled; pain burned my shoulder, but I pressed on. In moments, the battlefield was silent, littered with the dead. The survivors hesitated. Ryunosuke snarled. “Kill him!” No one moved. I stepped forward, blade dripping, breath steady. No prayers. No hesitation. Only duty. They fled.
Ryunosukes pupils widened after recognizing my fighting style. In anger he said, “You…BASTARD! So you were the one who killed my father!” Silence boomed in the village to the point where you can hear a needle drop. “This is all your fault Daigo, you’re the reason why my life is in shambles and led me to live this life! These villagers blood are on YOUR hands. Behold the savior of Kurogane, my fathers murderer, how rich.” said the last sentence while laughing considering the absurdity. “You Christians have a sense of humor, you all allow a killer like him to be amongst you, the foreigners really did corrupt your minds.” One villager said in a timid manner “But in scripture it said,’In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of sins, in accordance with the riches of God’s” “SILENCE” Ryunosuke interrupted.
“You’re a hypocrite, Daigo—a wolf in sheep’s clothing. That anger in your eyes is the same as it was ten years ago. You don’t seek faith, only escape. Do you really think redemption is possible after all the blood you’ve spilled?” His words cut deep, shame gripping me as I came back to my senses.
Ryunosuke took an offensive stance, his eyes locked onto mine—a predator poised to strike. I wiped the blood from my katana with my hakama and mirrored his stance. The moment I exhaled, he lunged. Faster than a heartbeat. Steel clashed, our blades locking in a deadly bind. He broke free, his katana whistling toward my neck. I barely dodged—the blade shearing a strand of my hair.He fought with hatred; I fought with conviction. And in that moment, a calm unlike any I had known settled over me—a tranquility beyond human comprehension.Strike after strike, I parried them all. When he raised his sword for a final blow, I cut deep into his stomach—not enough to kill, but enough to end it. His dominant arm followed, severed clean, his katana clattering to the ground.
Ryunosuke collapsed, coughing blood. “You won. Now kill me—wasn’t honor everything to you before you became a Christian?” The villagers watched, tense. I drove my katana into the ground. “No. That’s not the honor I live for anymore. Killing you would only prove you right—I’ve fought too hard for redemption. And so can you.” I extended my hand. “Repent, and the villagers will tend to your wounds. You can start anew.” Ryunosuke let out a weak chuckle. “You really don’t quit, do you? I heard if I don’t accept your ‘Jesus,’ I’ll burn in hell. If that’s true… I’d rather burn with my father than live among you bastards.” With those final words, his breath faded, drowned in blood.
A heavy silence hung in the air as Ryunosuke’s blood seeped into the dirt. His final words still lingered in my mind, a bitter echo of his defiance. For a moment, no one moved. The villagers hesitated, their gazes shifting between me and the fallen warlord. Then, a child stepped forward, eyes wide with awe. An elder followed, lowering himself to his knees. “You saved us,” someone whispered. The weight of the battle began to lift. A few murmurs of relief grew into cheers, hesitant at first, then swelling into joyous cries. Some wept, clutching one another, while others praised the heavens. Yet, amidst the celebration, I remained still, gripping my katana, feeling the blood that still clung to my hands? Had I truly saved them? Or had I only delayed the cycle of violence?
After the celebration, I sat beneath the old tree, watching the sunrise. What is true repentance? It is not mere atonement or self-denial, but turning from my old ways and walking in the light.
Though I have sinned, I have been redeemed. The weight I carried was never mine to bear alone. I recalled Galatians 5:1: “It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.” I will no longer be bound by my past. I am free—not by my righteousness, but by His mercy.
Makoto found me sitting beneath the tree at the cliff’s edge, the morning light casting a golden glow over the horizon. She sat beside me and smiled. “You did well, Daigo. We are forever in your debt.” I let out a weary sigh. “Thank you, Makoto. But even after sacrificing my vow for the village, I still wonder… can I truly be redeemed?” She chuckled softly. “You don’t understand, do you? True redemption isn’t something you earn—it’s a gift, given freely by the grace of God. You don’t have to fight for us to atone for your past. Instead, fight because it is the purpose God has placed in your heart.” Her words struck something deep within me. For so long, I had carried my sins like a weight that could never be lifted. But now, for the first time, I felt it begin to slip away. A tear fell, then another, as I embraced her—not in sorrow, but in gratitude. I was no longer a man bound by condemnation. My past remained, but it no longer defined me. By His grace, I had been chosen—not as a warrior seeking penance, but as a sword to defend those who could not protect themselves. And with that, a new purpose was set before me.