Shouto could feel the majestic breeze coming over his limber frame, blowing his shoulder length rich brown hair off of his neck. The breeze came off of the mountain onto the small clearing in a forest where the young monk meditated. It cooled his darkly tanned skin, invigorating the young man and focusing his thoughts on the past few years and the dramatic turn his life had taken.
Shouto had grown up in a monastery, learning and diligently holding to the disciplines of his monks order. The Iron Fist, the name of the order which once held his awe and greatest respect. Strength, nobility, honor, humility, service. What a joke. The only thing his order cared for was power and money. Shouto grew up learning the sacred and respected art of the Tiger's Paw. Hand to hand fighting like nothing ever witnessed before, rivaling the best sword wielders. But he had learned it not to protect the weak, or uphold any righteous path, but to sell his warrior prowess to powerful lords as a common mercenary. That's what his order was reduced to, fighting prostitutes. Power hungry and greedy men rose through the ranks of the monastery and took the leadership by killing the great teacher Han Fei-Tzu. The order had suffered some economical problems with their oath of protecting the weak and fighting the corrupt. So men rose up to challenge Han Fei-Tzu and a thousand years of tradition and service upheld by their own ancestors. When those men revealed their ideas of a new order of mercenaries some left, some were killed. Shouto escaped, and now wandered the land helping those he could, and fighting corruption whenever it showed it's sniveling face to him. But what hurt the most was that so many stayed, so many left the rule of those evil men to continue. They didn't even question their evil ideas and quest for power and money! If they weren't brave enough to challenge so obviously a corrupt leadership, then they were not worthy to be called members of the Iron Fist. They were not deserving of that sacred and glorious name.
Shouto became very pained at these thoughts. It wasn't his body that ached...but his soul. He wished his friends would have listened to him, but they only wanted his voice to be silenced. But their fate was now their own. They had chosen their path and Shouto his. They would not meet again except on opposite sides of a battle field.
Looking up into the sun and beautiful sky Shouto felt hope. Hope that this world could be a better place, and that men could learn to live peaceful and righteous lives. Thinking of this lifted his spirit and put inside him a desire to move. To nowhere in particular, but hopefully somewhere he would be of use. So he picked up his few meager belongings and headed through the forest. In search of hope.