Episode One - My name is...

S2 Episode One - Part: Teshiro Kaiyamoto

Master Haido stepped off the canoe, adjusting the weight of his medicine bags. He had just returned from the nearest village, where he had gathered herbs from the mountains. It was one of the rare occasions he left his home. He disliked the port—the stench, the noise, the filth—but today, at least, it was peaceful.

As he pulled his bamboo hat lower, preparing to leave, a voice tugged at his attention.

"Five shillings… Please, sir, five shillings! I'll clean your home, wash your clothes—anything!"

The voice had been echoing in his head since he arrived. It was persistent. Desperate. Something about it made him stop.

Turning toward the source, Haido spotted a boy. He was filthy, clad in tattered rags, his frame thin from hunger. But in his hands, he held something striking—a katana. The handle was red and white, worn yet beautiful. A name was engraved on it.

"Sir! Do you need help carrying your bags? I'll do anything if you can spare me five shillings!" The boy's eyes were hopeful despite his pitiful state.

Haido studied him closely. He knew who this child was—the bastard son of a foreigner, abandoned here in the port to die. An outcast. An eyesore to many. The only thing he had been left with was that sword. He had survived in the slums his entire life.

"Sir?" the boy pressed, his voice wavering.

Haido sighed. "Your plate is empty. I take it you haven't eaten in a while. Why not ask for food instead?"

The boy shook his head firmly. "I need to fix the handle," he said, gripping the sword tightly. "They won't help me unless I have five shillings, so I have to earn it." His voice wavered, and his eyes glistened with unshed tears, but his determination never broke.

"Kid, no one's going to give you that much money," Haido said, turning away. "You're wasting your time."

"I don't care," the boy declared. "I won't stop asking, and I won't stop trying. This sword… it's all I have. Look—it has a name on it." His fingers traced the inscription. "I need to learn how to read so I can find out what it says. It could be my name… or…" His voice trailed off, his face falling.

"Forget it," Haido muttered. "You should be more worried about filling your stomach."

"I don't care if I live or die," the boy said fiercely. "But I won't die until I know what's written on my sword. It must have belonged to my father… or someone. It's proof that I'm not just a bastard. I won't stop until I prove everybody wrong."

Haido watched him in silence. Something about this boy stirred him. There was a fire in his words, an unshaken resolve.

With a small smile, Haido extended his medicine bags.

"Come," he said. "We have a long way to go. Teshiro Kaiyamoto—that's the name on the sword."

The boy froze. His breath hitched.

Then, a wide smile broke across his face. "Ten-Kai… That will be my name."

"Ten-Kai!?"

"Yes, that name, it must have been my father's name, I cannot carry it so Ten - Kai it is, I am. Forever indebted to you, I owe you life, sir, for this, master!" Ten-kai bowed.

"Well then, Ten-Kai," Haido said "You'll have a warm bed, some food… and if you're willing to work hard, I can teach you how to use that sword."

Before Haido could finish, Ten-Kai dropped to his knees and bowed deeply.

"Master! Anything you say—anything you want—I will do if you're willing to take me in!"

Haido nodded, turning toward the path ahead. Ten-Kai stood, gripping his sword tightly, and followed.

And so, they walked home.