The monastery rose up high above the mountains, a pillar of exceptional craftsmanship while seeming to fit with the natural look of the land. It was as if the Buddha himself put it there for those outside to gaze in awe.

The Man in the White Kimono climbed the steps leading up to it. He had been traveling for a long time, and was not going to back down on his quest, despite admittedly being weary from travel. His sandals were worn nearly paper thin, and his clothes were stained and ripped from the journey. Clearly he would not look his best at the summit, but there was little he could do about that.

The air was colder with each step, and even near the top of the stairway leading up it began to snow just a little. He was finding his lungs feeling more heavy as the altitude affected his breaths as well. The higher he climbed, the harder it was to breathe.

He crawled at the very top. After the last steps, he took deep breaths and could not stand, remaining on his hands and knees as the altitude got to him.

He looked up to see someone standing there, offering him a small cup of cool water. The monk smiled as he accepted the cup and drank. "Welcome, I hope your stay will be pleasant.", he spoke. Standing, the man bowed and nodded, "The climb was certainly worth it.", he replied. The monk motioned for him to follow, and he did so.

"I take it you are here for the sword?", the monk asked him. "How did you know?", the man questioned in a curious tone. The monk lowered his head, "Most who come here are only interested in that weapon of death. We try to show them the light of taking a peaceful route, but they insist on claiming the sword. A few have dropped their violent paths for the life of a monk, but those who have come just for the sword take the test and leave empty-handed. We feed them, of course, and give them water and a few supplies for the trip down the mountain, but that is all."

The newcomer is silent. The monk continues, "So what about you? Are you a man of war or a man of peace?", the monk asks.

"Quite frankly, I do not know.", he replies. The monk nods and opens the doors to the monastery.

Within the hollowed chamber are many other monks, some chanting quietly, some meditating with their malas, others bowing and showing their respects to the Buddha. These actions strike the man's interest, and as he is led past, he studies intently the monks' ways.

In a separate room, several candles are lit around a single object - a black samurai sword. The visitor's eyes are locked onto the weapon, but then he looks into the eyes of the monk who had led him there. "Where did the sword come from?", he asks.

The monk nods, he answers this question each time someone comes to claim it. "There was a ronin who came here countless years ago, who exchanged this sword for a mala. He devoted the rest of his life to becoming a monk, and since then the sword has never left that spot. He decided that whoever had light within their soul would be worthy of the sword, not as a weapon of death but as a guardian for peace."

"So now I must ask, what path will you now choose? The path of the Buddha or the path of the Katana?", the monk asks again.

The man contemplates this for a long while, and then finally says, "I'd like to take both paths."

The monk nods, "Follow me.", he says. He leads the man out of the room, into a separate room where he is given monk robes and a wooden mala. He offers the man a room for lodging, which he accepts. During the time he is left alone, the man changes out of the worn clothes he traveled in and into the robes. When he opens the door, one of the monks is there and offers to clean and repair his old clothes. He gives them freely and then walks into the main place where the other monks are meditating.

The man sits and begins his prayer, mimicking the other monks. He listens to their chants, and follows along.

"Soooooo huuuuummmm...", the man chants.

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A month passed, and through the deep meditation, the man has cleansed his mind. He was visited by the monk who first helped him and led him into the monastery. "It has been a month now, and you have shown your dedication to the Buddha and his Dharma. You have become a worthy member of our Sangha. Do you still wish for the sword you came here for?", he asks the man.

"I have learned well from the Buddha here, and I understand there are two paths before me - that of the Buddha and that of the sword. But in reality, I wish to make my own path.", the man speaks.

The monk nods, "I need one more thing from you.", he says, and then leads the man back into the room with the sword. On a table is a small Zen Rock Garden, in the shape of a square. The man removes the stones and smooths out the sand, to where it is flat and without any of the ridges originally placed. He then says, "Please write your name in the sand for me."

The man does so, placing his finger in the sand and drawing his name:




The monk smiles. "You are the one, then. I have chosen the right person to take my sword.", he speaks.

The man looks at him strangely. "You were the ronin in the story? This is really your sword?", he asks.

The monk nods. "Yes, I am the ronin, and I have found my peace here. It is understandable that you have your own story to write, but unlike all the others, you were the first to choose patience over greed. I have confidence that you will do right in the world, and so the katana is rightfully yours.

The man tries hands the mala to the monk, but the monk shakes his head, "Keep it. The Buddha will always be there to help you on your path." Nodding, he approaches where the katana is displayed, and lifts it from the stand. He unsheaths it and inspects the blade. It has been well cleaned these years, not a spot of rust on it.

Returning the sword to it's sheath, the man turns to the monk and bows. "I am honored to be the one to claim your sword, and I have chosen my path. Please, is there any favor I can do for you in return?"

The monk shakes his head once again, "All I ask is that you remember what the Buddha has taught. Remember his dharma, that is all I wish in return for the sword. We will have supplies ready for when you leave, and of course, you are always welcome to return."

The man nods, "I will. Thank you."

He is led back to his room, where his old clothes are waiting, cleaned and repaired. He is given a moment of privacy to change back into them, and he leaves the robes behind there. He wears the mala around his neck under the clothes, and the sword he secures to his belt. He is given various supplies for the climb down the mountain, and bowing, he departs the monastery with the ronin's sword.

This is only the beginning of the journey he will forge. Will he keep to the Buddha's teachings? Will he become an angel of death with the new sword in his possession? Or will he forge his own path? This will be his choice alone...