Way of the Sword - Dojo

The dojo was very quiet when the young Haitaka arrived through the doors, but Shichiro was already within sight. The doors would open to the sparring ring, a wide square area lightly padded for combatants, and his sensei was kneeling in meditation in the very center. His old eyes were eased shut, his greying hair drawn back in a tie for now with his beard settled easily to his chest as his breaths came and went comfortably slow. The single katana, homed in it's sheath, was resting beside him on the mat.

However, when the door came to quiet shut behind the man, his eyes would open and sparkle just a little upon seeing the Shogun. "Ah... my boy," he chuckled, much like a father pleased to see his son, a shift in his beard indicating a hidden smile. He gestured with a frail-looking hand for the man to enter. "It is good to see you, boy."

He let out another breath in a long and drawn out "Hmmmmm" as he neared, his tired eyes settling on the face of the Haitaka. "Indeed, I heard. I mourned for him, as I would for any student. The boy was strong and swift, brave and true. It is what made him to be one of your elite guard with no question."

Shichiro would come to stand before the young Shogun, and clap a hand to his shoulder in a comforting gesture. "I heard it was, uh... Yanagi, the Demon Warrior of your grandfather's time. See, my boy, yokai and spirits are very, mm, tricky and confusing beings. They don't follow any, any order or rule. Yanagi was old, very old," he replied, then moving over to a shelf along the western wall to a few scrolls settled within. One was brought out and unfurled, and then splayed out on the surface of the tabletop of the shelf so that Takehiko could easily see the writings and images scrawled in ink on the old parchment. "And for the destruction he wrought and the innocents he slaughtered - and ate - he become more than just a spirit. More than a typical demon. It was why swords did nothing to him. Old legend says he walks with weapons of fallen fighters embedded in his very body, that the pain of a katana is nothing more than a bite of a fly to him.

"It is why the monks are here, Takehiko," he added quietly, looking to the man again with a hard stare from his beady eyes. "They are practiced in what it takes to repel and destroy and seal demons. And, from what you have brought to me, it sounds as if we may need to employ their knowledge and assistance more frequently - perhaps to find out a way to bless the steel of the elite and commanders, to give an edge or possibly take down yokai. Of Yanagi's caliber, I doubt, but for general.

"BUT. That being said," he adds, lifting a hand with a pointed finger up, "a smaller beast of spirit could be dispelled relatively simple. Cut down like wheat, to send their spirits back to where they reside. Mmm, ah, like faceless imps. I have seen them, and sliced them in two, back in my day." His gaze would settle past Haitaka's shoulder with a detached expression as he began to reminisce for a few moments.