Kurama Gatsu, a 23 year old man. Doing his daily routine training his sword skills, gaining strength to use the great sword his grand father passed onto him. There was only one goal he wanted to achieve, to be as strong as his grandfather was. He didn't care for anything else, his mind was focused. Sweat dripping from his brow each swing he took with the great sword. Different angles worked different muscles, "Come inside for dinner!" His mother suddenly shouted, breaking his concentration during mid swing he planted his foot wrong, then fumbled to the ground. That's another thing I need to work on, I shouldn't have to worry about my feet. He thought. Kurama planted the sword into the ground, using it as a cane of sorts to get up easier. He strapped the sword to his back heading towards the hut he lived in. In a distance he heard horses neighing and the thudding of the hooves. Stopping shortly after he had started walking he heard men yelling, a sound like they were about to go to battle. Kurama went onto a nearby hill to see what was happening, but when he got there, bandits were attacking his village. His face turned red and he jogged towards the village again, not wanting to wear himself out. By the time he had already gotten to the village some of the huts and buildings were on fire. He looked as people stumbled away from the conflict, some already fleeing the village, others trying to fight. He saw a few trying to hide as well. What should I do right now? He thought.