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.
