From under the bar I take out my family's oldest heirloom, a traditional smurai sword. Intricately carved by a master craftsman is the hilt made of wood and metal mesh, the carvings bear the emblem of out family's crest. The blade made of the strongest metal of the time - titanium - is made to withstand the torture of time and slice through almost any material on earth. It is fully carved with interloping characters of unknown value or origin. A sword of a master, made by a master and passed down for generations, that should be a fitting title for it. Making a mental note i sit down to polish it. The blade is warm to the touch and used to have a blueish hue to it whenever i stroke it. However today the blue glow seem to glow fainter than usual, thinking its because of the aging of metal I didn't question further. I slowly slid the sword back into its sheath, and went on to prepare a packaged lunch to take to the court.

"Laa~.. la.." Singing as i did the recipe, i remembered the first time i tried to fry an egg. The result was disastrous i remember burning my mom's only frying pan, but she didnt get angry, instead she smiled and said "dont worry dear, you'll be great cook some day we all start this way."

"Ahhh...mom....where are u now.....?"