Concerning the Life and Service of Kaito Grimm

From the Imperial Archives of the Household Twin Talons Compiled by the Court Historians in the Forty-Second Year of the Reign of His  Imperial Majesty 

"Steel remembers that which flesh forgets." 

Ancient Proverb of the Red Sun Empire "

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The earliest surviving account concerning Kaito Grimm begins not with his birth, but with his  discovery. 

In the ninth year of the Crimson Blossom, when the Jade River swelled with the melting snows,  the monks of the Shrine of the Rising Dawn bore witness to an occurrence they recorded only  with the greatest reluctance. As dawn broke through the morning mist, a weathered kite shield drifted silently down the river. Wrapped within a faded woolen blanket upon the shield rested an  infant no more than a few months of age. 

Though the current ran swift, the shield neither overturned nor disappeared beneath the water.  One elder monk later wrote that, for but a single heartbeat, it appeared to glide against the  current before gently coming to rest upon the muddy bank beneath the shrine. None present  could explain what they had witnessed, and none would speak of it lightly in the years that  followed. 

Three great ravens stood waiting upon the shore. 

They neither cried nor scattered as the monks approached, but remained silent, their dark eyes  fixed upon the child as though keeping faithful watch. Only when the eldest monk lifted the  infant from the shield did the birds take wing together, circling once above the shrine before  vanishing into the morning mist. Those who witnessed the event would later remark that they  had never again seen ravens behave in such a manner. 

No boat drifted upon the river. No footprints marked the shore. No voices had been heard  throughout the night. Beside the child rested only a smooth stone carved with an intricate knot  unlike any symbol known within the Red Sun Empire. 

The monks searched for many days along both banks of the Jade River, making inquiry in every  village within reasonable distance. No family came seeking the child, nor was any report made 

of a missing infant. Whether the river delivered him by chance, by Providence, or by means  unknown has never been determined. 

Having no name to bestow upon the boy, the monks called him Kaito, after the kite shield upon  which he had been found. Learned scholars would later remark upon the curious fortune that the  name also bore an ancient eastern meaning, "one who crosses the sea." Many regarded this as no  coincidence, but as an omen whose meaning would reveal itself only with time. 

As no lineage could be established, the child was given the surname Grimm, for even in infancy  there rested upon his face a solemn peace uncommon to one so young. 

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Kaito was raised within the walls of the Shrine of the Rising Dawn, where the monks instructed  him in humility, discipline, meditation, calligraphy, philosophy, and compassion. Though they  were not warriors, they believed that mastery of the spirit must always precede mastery of the  sword. These teachings would become the foundation upon which Kaito built the remainder of  his life. 

As the boy matured, so too did his curiosity. He often questioned the monks regarding the  morning of his arrival. Who had placed him upon the shield? From where had he come? What  meaning lay hidden within the strange knot carved upon the stone that had accompanied him? 

The monks possessed no answers. 

Whenever Kaito pressed them further, the eldest among them would smile gently and offer only  the same reply. 

"The river gives no account of what it carries." 

Those words remained with him long after he departed the shrine. 

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When Kaito reached manhood, he left the monastery to make his own place within the Empire.  Though the records of these years are few, village accounts consistently describe him as a quiet  and honorable man whose strength was matched only by his humility. He earned his livelihood  through honest work, keeping his sword more often as a symbol of discipline than as an  

instrument of violence. 

It was during these peaceful years that Kaito met the woman who would become his wife. 

Those who remembered them wrote of a household filled with laughter rather than ambition. In  time they were blessed with two daughters, and for many years the questions that had haunted  Kaito since childhood gave way to the simple joys of family. Friends remarked that the once solitary man smiled easily in the presence of his children, and that no title or honor ever seemed  to matter to him as much as returning safely to his home each evening.

To commemorate their family, Kaito carried a simple canvas satchel upon which his wife and  each of his daughters pressed a painted hand. The three small handprints remained upon the  weathered cloth, and Kaito was seldom seen without the satchel slung across his shoulder. Those  close to him understood that it carried little of material value, yet they also knew he guarded it  more carefully than any sword. 

Peace, however, is a guest that seldom remains. 

The surviving accounts differ concerning the tragedy that followed. Some speak of raiders.  Others record the violence of war. A few suggest betrayal. Whatever the cause, all agree upon  one terrible truth. 

His wife and both daughters perished. 

Those who witnessed the aftermath wrote that Kaito buried them with his own hands. When  friends urged him to leave the past behind, he quietly refused. From that day until the end of his  life, the canvas satchel remained with him, not as a burden of grief, but as a promise that those he  loved would continue to accompany him upon every road he walked. 

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Many years passed before Kaito again embraced the life of a warrior. 

By then he was no eager youth seeking glory, but a seasoned man whose hardships had tempered  both his spirit and his steel. Those who later trained beside him observed that every movement of  his blade was measured and deliberate, as though each strike honored those who could no longer  stand beside him. 

One saying is attributed to Kaito more often than any other. 

"A sword drawn in anger has already failed its master." 

Word of the seasoned swordsman eventually reached the retainers of the Household Twin  Talons, a noble house whose honor was measured not by wealth nor conquest, but by steadfast  service, unwavering loyalty, and strength of character. They recognized in Kaito not merely an  accomplished warrior, but a man who had endured profound suffering without surrendering his  compassion or his honor. He was invited to enter their service, an invitation he accepted with  quiet humility. 

The household quartermaster later recorded that Kaito possessed remarkably few belongings for  a man of his station. Of all his worldly possessions, he considered only four beyond price: the  weathered kite shield upon which he had entered the world, the carved knot-stone whose  meaning no scholar could decipher, the teachings entrusted to him by the monks of the Rising  Dawn, and the worn canvas satchel bearing the painted handprints of his beloved wife and two  daughters. It was said that, though he carried many weapons throughout his years of service,  these humble keepsakes were the treasures he guarded most carefully.

Within the Household Twin Talons, Kaito earned distinction not through boasts or displays of  martial prowess, but through quiet example. He listened before speaking, judged only after  careful thought, and extended dignity to both friend and stranger alike. Those who served beside  him often remarked that he preferred wisdom to victory whenever wisdom would suffice. Yet  when steel became necessary, witnesses wrote that his blade moved without anger, without  hatred, and without hesitation. In time, his unwavering discipline and mastery of the sword  earned him the title of Katana Master, an honor bestowed only upon those whose character  proved equal to their skill. 

Whether Kaito Grimm ever discovered the truth of his birth cannot be stated with certainty. No  surviving record identifies those who placed him upon the river, no scholar has successfully  interpreted the carving upon the stone, and no satisfactory explanation has ever been offered  concerning the three ravens witnessed that morning beside the Jade River. Such mysteries remain  the province of philosophers, priests, and storytellers rather than historians. 

History, however, speaks with confidence of the man himself. 

And the river... 

...keeps its silence.