In a forgotten village nestled between misty mountains and cedar forests, where the wind whispers ancient legends, lived Yuito, the last samurai of a forgotten clan. His soul was as sharp as the blade of his katana, forged by the gods themselves in the fire of shooting stars. The years had etched lines on his face, but his eyes remained clear as mountain stream water, reflecting a wisdom only time can carve.
 
Every morning, Yuito stood on the old flat stone, facing east, waiting for the sun to pierce the clouds. He meditated on bushido, the code that had guided his life: loyalty, honor, respect. Yet the world around him had changed. The shoguns were gone, replaced by lords in silk clothes and hollow words. The young people of the village no longer dreamed of glory in battle, but of distant wealth, in cities where metal and smoke ruled.
 
One day, a rumor reached him: a cruel daimyo, drunk on power, had decided to raze the sacred forests to build factories. These trees, silent witnesses to oaths and battles, were to fall under the axe of men. Yuito felt his heart tighten. He knew his time had come.
 
Without a word, he donned his worn leather armor, took his katana, and left. The journey was long, and every step reminded him of battles past. When he arrived before the daimyo’s palace, a crowd of men armed with rifles mocked him. "An old fool with a sword!" they sneered. But Yuito did not tremble. He knew that true strength did not lie in steel or gunpowder, but in an unbreakable spirit.
 
The fight was brief. Bullets whistled, but none touched the samurai. He danced between the shots, his katana tracing deadly arcs in the air. One by one, the guards fell, disarmed by the grace and precision of a man with nothing left to lose. When he faced the daimyo, the man, pale with fear, offered him mountains of gold. Yuito smiled, sad and serene. "I do not fight for gold, but for the honor of those who can no longer fight."
 
With a final movement, he struck with his sword. The palace fell silent. Yuito, wounded, collapsed near a cherry tree in bloom. As life left him, he saw an eagle soaring freely in the sky. "At last, peace..." he whispered, as pink petals fell like tears on his armor.
 
When the villagers arrived, they found Yuito’s body, surrounded by a golden light. Beside him, his katana, planted in the earth, bore an inscription: "The blade never dies, as long as a pure heart remembers."
 
Since that day, it is said that Yuito’s spirit watches over the forest. And sometimes, when the wind blows just right, one can still hear the song of a sword rising to the sky.