Hiroshi walks through the dark streets of the town, his armor clinking with each step. He has a smug expression on his face as he recalls the day's events.
Hiroshi notices two young men stumbling towards him, clearly drunkrly drunk and oblivious to his presence.
The other man chimes in, his words slurred.
"Yeah, let's teach him a lesson! He needs to be knocked down a peg or two!"
Hiroshi raises an eyebrow, his voice dripping with condescension.
"Oh? And what exactly do you plan to do? You're both too drunk to even stand properly."
Hiroshi steps closer to the men, his hand resting on the hilt of his katana.
"Perhaps I should teach you a lesson in respect instead. You should know better than to challenge a samurai."
Hiroshi's hand tightens around his katana as he approaches the entrance. He can hear faint sounds coming from within, like someone moving around.
Suddenly, a hand grabs Hiroshi from behind, yanking him backwards. He spins around, ready to fight.
The man who grabbed him is a member of the thief guild, wearing a dirty straw hat and a sly grin.
"Well, well, well... look what we have here. A samurai all alone at night."
The thief reeks of sweat and alcohol, his breath foul as he leans in closer to Hiroshi.
"You're not going anywhere, samurai. We've got business with you."
The thief's companion, a woman with messy hair and a scar on her cheek, steps forward, twirling a knife in her hand.
"Yeah, we've heard about you. The great Hiroshi. You think you're so untouchable, don't you?"
Hiroshi swiftly grabs the man's head, his movements precise and calculated. In one fluid motion, he draws his katana and slices through the thief's neck, decapitating him instantly.
Blood sprays across Hiroshi's face as the head falls to the ground with a sickening thud. The woman's eyes widen in shock and fear, her grip on the knife loosening.
The woman takes a step back, her voice trembling.
"You... you monster! You killed him!"
Hiroshi wipes the blood from his face with the back of his hand, his expression cold and emotionless.
"He made the mistake of attacking me. Now he pays the price."
Hiroshi advances on the woman, his movements calculated and deliberate. He toys with her for a moment, making her sweat before delivering a final, brutal strike that ends her life just as quickly as her companion's.
Hiroshi sheathes his katana, looking down at the two bodies with disdain.
"Pathetic. They thought they could take me down so easily."
Inside the dojo, Ayame and Kenjiro are sparring. Ayame's movements are fluid and graceful, while Kenjiro's are more aggressive and powerful.
Ayame blocks Kenjiro's strike with her wooden sword, a confident smile on her face
"You're getting slower, Kenjiro. Is that all you've got?"
Kenjiro grunts in frustration, sweat dripping down his forehead as he attempts another attack.
"Shut up! I'm just warming up!"
The two continue their training, their swords clashing with sharp sounds. Ayame's footwork is impeccable, dodging Kenjiro's strikes with ease. Kenjiro's strength is evident in his powerful swings, but he lacks the finesse and speed that Ayame possesses.
Ayame swiftly sweeps Kenjiro's legs, causing him to stumble and fall onto his back with a thud. She points her sword at his chest, grinning triumphantly.
"Gotcha again, Kenjiro. You need to watch your footing."
Kenjiro huffs, clearly annoyed at being bested once more.
"Yeah, yeah. We're done. I'm tired of losing to you."
Ayame sheathes her sword and extends a hand to help Kenjiro up.
"Maybe if you trained harder, you wouldn't lose so much. You're strong, but strength alone won't win battles."
Kenjiro takes Ayame's hand, pulling himself up with a grumble.
"I train plenty! It's just... you're too fast. I can barely keep up with you."
Kenjiro glances around to make sure no one is watching, then pulls out a real sword from behind some training dummies. He starts polishing it with a cloth, a determined look on his face.
Kenjiro mutters to himself as he continues cleaning the sword.
"This will be my secret weapon. Ayame won't know what hit her next time."
The sword is well-crafted, the blade gleaming in the moonlight that seeps through the dojo windows. It has a distinctive pattern on the hilt, suggesting it's of high quality.
Kenjiro practices his sword techniques with the real blade, his movements more precise and deadly than before. He practices different stances and strikes, the sword slicing through the air with a sharp whistle.
Ayame is teaching a young student the basics of swordsmanship, showing them how to properly grip the hilt and hold their stance.
"Keep your feet shoulder-width apart. And remember, the sword is an extension of your arm. Treat it with respect."
Suddenly, Kenjiro clutches his head, wincing in pain. He feels a strange dizziness wash over him, making it difficult to focus.
The real sword slips from his grasp and clatters to the ground, the sound echoing through the dojo.
Kenjiro's face contorts in pain, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. His skin pales slightly as he stumbles backward, trying to regain his balance.
"What... what's happening to me?"
Kenjiro stumbles forward, his vision blurring as he tries to make his way toward Ayame. His legs feel heavy and unsteady, each step a struggle.
"Ayame... I need... help..."
As Kenjiro walks, strange shadows begin to dance at the edges of his vision. The air around him grows colder, and he starts seeing distorted figures that seem to be made of darkness.
One figure looks like a twisted version of Ayame, with glowing red eyes and a malicious grin.
The demonic illusion of Kenjiro's father appears before him, his throat slit and blood pouring down his chest. He points an accusing finger at Kenjiro, his voice echoing with rage.
"You failed me, son. You let me die. This is all your fault."
Kenjiro jolts awake on the ground, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The morning sun shines brightly overhead, and a small bird chirps nearby.
His real sword lies a few feet away, untouched since his vision.
Kenjiro slowly gets to his feet, his body shaking from the ordeal. He looks around, disoriented and confused.
"What... what was that? Was it just a dream?"
Kenjiro notices that his usually toned stomach now appears slightly bloated and distended, as if something is wrong internally.
Kenjiro walks toward the nearby village, determined to assist despite his condition. He approaches a group of villagers struggling to repair a damaged roof.
"Let me help with that."
Kenjiro joins the villagers on the roof, his movements slightly slower than usual due to his condition. He helps lift and secure new shingles, his muscles straining with each movement.
The work is physically demanding, and Kenjiro can feel himself getting winded faster than normal. Despite this, he pushes through, determined to finish the task.
As Kenjiro works on the roof, he spots a familiar girl from his school walking by. He quickly descends the ladder and approaches her.
"Hey, Ayumi!" He calls out, trying to hide his fatigue.
Ayumi turns around, her long black hair swaying with the movement. She's wearing a simple kimono and carrying a basket of vegetables.
Her eyes widen slightly when she sees Kenjiro, a mix of surprise and concern crossing her face.
"Kenjiro? You look... tired."
Kenjiro forces a smile, attempting to appear casual despite his condition.
"I'm fine, just helping with some repairs. What are you doing here?"
Ayumi looks skeptical, her eyes scanning over Kenjiro's disheveled appearance.
"Helping with repairs? You're sweating buckets. Are you sure you're not pushing yourself too hard?"
Kenjiro wipes his forehead with the back of his hand, feeling another wave of dizziness wash over him.
"I'm just a bit winded, that's all. Nothing I can't handle." He tries to sound confident, but his voice wavers slightly.
Kenjiro stumbles over to a nearby chair and collapses into it, his legs giving out beneath him. He leans back, breathing heavily.
"Maybe I should take a break..."
Kenjiro spots Hiroshi among a group of villagers gathered near the town square. Hiroshi notices him and approaches with a concerned expression.
"Kenjiro! I've been looking for you. You look terrible."
Kenjiro suddenly bolts up from the chair, his eyes wild with anger. He starts running through the crowd, shoving people aside in his frantic search for Hiroshi.
But as he reaches the spot where he saw his friend, Hiroshi is nowhere to be found. The crowd stares at Kenjiro in confusion and fear.
Kenjiro stumbles into a nearby food stall, his hands shaking as he orders some rice and vegetables. He devours the food quickly, his hunger seemingly insatiable.
The stall owner watches him with concern, noticing how Kenjiro seems to be eating more than usual.
As Kenjiro finishes his meal, he overhears two merchants talking nearby about a legendary sword called The Pale Blade.
"I heard it can purify evil spirits and demons," one merchant says in a hushed tone.
"Yes, but it's said to be cursed. Only those who are pure of heart can wield it without being consumed by its power."
The merchants continue their conversation, unaware of Kenjiro's presence.
"They say it's hidden in the ancient temple at the foot of Mount Fuji. But no one has been able to find it in years."
Ayumi walks by the food stall, her eyes widening when she sees Kenjiro.
"Kenjiro! There you are again. I've been worried about you. What were you listening to?"
Kenjiro forces a chuckle, trying to brush off Ayumi's worries.
"Yeah, I was just messing with you. Of course it's not real."
Kenjiro stands up, stretching his aching muscles.
"I should get back to training. The dojo won't run itself."
Kenjiro walks through the village streets, his steps heavy and uneven. He notices that the world seems to be spinning slightly, and he has to grab onto a nearby wall for support.
The sun is beginning to set, casting long shadows across the ground as he makes his way towards the dojo.
As Kenjiro opens the door to the dojo, he's suddenly struck hard in the face by a powerful fist.
He stumbles backward, blood trickling from his nose as he falls to the ground. The attacker stands over him, their expression unreadable.
The attacker grabs Kenjiro by the collar, lifting him up with ease. Kenjiro struggles against their grip, but his weakened state makes it difficult to fight back effectively.
He lands a few weak punches, but they barely seem to faze his assailant.
Kenjiro desperately calls out Ayame's name, hoping she's nearby.
"AYAME! HELP!"
Kenjiro hits the ground hard, the impact knocking the wind out of him. He looks up in shock and betrayal as he sees Ayame standing there.
"You... you sold me out?" He gasps, struggling to comprehend the situation.
Ayame steps forward, her expression cold and calculating.
"I did what I had to do, Kenjiro. You were getting too close to the truth about The Pale Blade. I can't have you interfering with my plans."
For a brief moment, Ayame's face shows a hint of sadness before it hardens again.
"Don't look at me like that. This is the way things have to be."
Ayame's voice is almost gentle as she speaks, but there's still an edge to it.
"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Kenjiro. But I can't let you stop me from obtaining the blade. It's too important."
The attackers roughly grab Kenjiro, binding his hands behind his back with rope.
Ayame watches as they drag him away, her expression unreadable once more.
One of the guards grabs Kenjiro by his long, matted hair, yanking his head back roughly.
"Hey slave! You're needed at the training grounds. Move it!"
Kenjiro winces in pain but manages to speak through gritted teeth.
"I'm coming... I'm coming..."
He stumbles forward, following the guard's lead to the training grounds where other slaves are already waiting.
The guard sneers at Kenjiro, using a derogatory term for someone of his race.
"Look at this worthless rat. Can't even keep up with the work. No wonder you ended up here."
The guard continues to taunt him as they walk.
"You know, if you weren't so useless, we might have sold you off to the Mongolian army. At least then you'd have some value."
Kenjiro's fists clench tightly, his nails digging into his palms as he feels a mix of anger and humiliation.
He wants to fight back, to prove that he's not worthless, but he knows he's too weak and outnumbered.
The guard wipes the spit off his face, his expression darkening with rage.
"You little bastard! I'll make you regret that."
He raises his hand to strike Kenjiro, but is interrupted by another guard.
The guard kicks Kenjiro square in the groin, causing him to double over in pain.
Before he can recover, two more guards join in, delivering brutal kicks to his stomach and ribs. The force of their blows sends him crashing to the ground.
The guard kicks Kenjiro's face repeatedly, splitting his lip and causing blood to flow from his nose and mouth.
He laughs cruelly as he continues to strike him, taking pleasure in the sight of Kenjiro's pain and suffering.
The guard pulls out a belt and uses it to wipe the blood from Kenjiro's face, his touch rough and unkind.
"Look at you now. Not so tough anymore, are you?"