Descending down the hill was much easier than walking up it. Not only because of the obvious physics of it but also the lack of a rampaging boar. Though Kanashi kept himself alert and Kenji excitedly jumped at every movement and passing shadow nothing jumped out to attack them.

In only twenty minutes they’d reached the bottom of the hill and returned to the town which Kanashi and Yuya had arrived via their subway ride. This town [Tetsuki], while larger than Yuya's home by far, was still pretty small when compared to even just Izumika. Its name meaning metal tree was probably in reference to the over abundant amount of telephone and electric lines which blocked the sky from view with their cables and large wooden posts.

“I can smell the filth of modern civilization.” Kenji complained, wrinkling his nose.

“What the hell am I supposed to do with that?” Kanashi asked Kenji with one brow raised.

“A city boy like you is probably used to the smell of pollution, filth and humans. But not me, the great outdoors is the smell which I hold dear to my heart!”

“You do know that villages back in the day smelled way worse then this right?”

“How would you know if you weren’t there?”

“Because it’s well documented?” Kanashi asked with a frown. “And before you ask where I read it my dad was a historian.”

“Is that so? Where is he now? I’d be interested in speaking to him if possible.” Kenji hummed thinking of all the Feudal Era Edoland questions he had built up over the years.

“Dead.” Kanashi answered bluntly. “But let’s try and find our way to the bus station.” He said changing the topic quickly and turning to walk away.

“Dead huh…” Kenji muttered. “Perhaps your story has more than I’d first expected.”

# # #

I didn’t tell Kenji I’m the only survivor of Azhar did I? Kanashi thought with a frown. Well I’m not sure if he even knows about Azhar or would care about the whole situation over there. And it’s not like it’s adding anything else to our relationship either other than a tragic backstory. Now that I think about it It’s going to get really annoying having to explain to everyone who I am and my situation, though most can probably tell by my accent that I’m from Saharis can’t they? Well unless they ask then I won’t tell.

Following the path which Yuya had taken Kanashi through the day before, both Kanashi and Kenji reached the train station without much trouble. For Tetsuki being a small town the station was rather lively with traffic.

Kenji grimaced at the business men wearing suits and seemed to be genuinely disgusted by their presence.

“You okay?” Kanashi asked Kenji.

“Yeah, I’m just filled with a sickening sense of Deja vu.” Kenji muttered looking into the distance.

“Well, you’ll have to bear with it for a bit. I think the train ride to Tousen will take about five hours if it’s the same as last time…” Kanashi muttered looking at the various ticket prices on the board.

“Train?” Kenji asked.

“Yeah, don’t worry about the price I’ll pay for it.” Kanashi said, brushing the comment off.

Kenji frowned at this and shook his head. “A Samurai riding a train.” He muttered.

“It’s fine! Can’t you just pretend it’s some monster or something you’re riding.” Kanashi muttered as he began to count the bills he pulled from his bag.

“What’d ya mean to pretend? Are you saying I’m playing pretend by living my life the way I do!?” Kenji asked, his voice tinged with genuine anger.

“N-no!” Kenji yelped out as he whipped around. “I’m just saying it’s a matter of perspective!” He argued frantically.

“?”

“Samurai died out because of the introduction of guns and more modern style warfare so why don’t you do the opposite? Why don’t you try to adapt to the modern way of life and try to use that as your weapon?

Kenji pursed his lips in thought and pondered his options for a moment. I guess it is the fastest way to Tousen if we really do need to be there as quickly as possible, moving on foot would take over a week and horse back at the fastest would be four days… Besides I haven’t been to Tousen in over thirty years so what’s to say it’s even possible to walk there on foot anymore… “Alright you've convinced me!” Kenji laughed with a wide smile. “But we’re riding on the front!”

“I’m not sure if there’s really a front of the bus but alright I can work with that.” Kanashi nodded with an awkward grin.

# # #

I think I was around three years old when I first saw one, I remember being amazed at the gore and violence of it. But I didn’t find it gross, instead I found it to be rather beautiful. That two men can fight with such passion their hearts as their blades. Fighting for a purpose in their life.

I think that was the moment everything changed, I didn't even remember the movie's exact title, it was a cheap 100 yen VHS, probably a bootleg of an underperforming movie. But my child brain didn’t register the bad acting or cheap gore effects. I only saw what I wanted through my rose tinted glasses. It was then that I decided I wanted to become a Samurai.

I’m not foolish enough to believe that Samurai lived good lives, in fact their lives were probably far from great. Even the richest had to live in constant fear of assassination and their lords' fickle nature. The Ronin didn’t have it easy either, without a lord they had no home, no place in society and were considered criminals. Only those under a lord could wield a Katana. Anyone else was to be hung up and beat to death with a rod or cut down by another swordsman.

But that changed with the revolution, I don’t remember when exactly it happened, probably around 250 years ago. But all of Edoland changed in that moment. Edoland had it's own share of ""modern"" technology but had fell into a purgatory. With the islands lacking natural resources we'd hit a wall we couldn't easily climb. As such we stagnated for a few decades. Compared to the rest of the world which had Telegraphs and mono chrome photography we were still using Ink paintings and paper messengers.

I'd like to say that this industrial revolution caused a huge epic war when the boarded opens and technology advanced overnight. I'd like to sat there was a brave final stand off between the old ways and the new. But if I said such a thing I'd be lying.

The death of the Samurai was silent and sudden. They were just no long needed. I'm sure a few skirmishes happened but overall the system simply crumbled under itself.

As such I learned at an early age it was impossible for me to become a Samurai, but that didn’t stop me. When someone asked me what I wanted to be I’d say a Samurai. When I was younger this would get a laugh out of most adults but when I got older and said the same thing their laughs turned into hushed whispers and awkward glances.

It was around the time I was twelve that my parents began to tell me that while my dream was admirable it was impossible. That I needed to find a real career to pursue.

It took a while for me to agree but eventually I did. I thought perhaps an actor was the best way to become a modern day Samurai but it was all fake. I knew that from the start but there was no passion in the violence just greed. No one wanted to put their life on the line for the glory and honor of it. It was shameful.

So I quit and moved on, well it’s not like I quit anything really since it was only School theater but still the point stood. No one could match my passion. I was told to consider being a script writer or historian but again just because those were related to Samurai it didn’t mean I was one. I’d simply be studying and writing about them. I can only observe my dreams as they unfold before me another person living them out. And that filled with contempt and envy.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Around the 2nd semester of 8th grade I went into a sort of autopilot. I remember everything that happened but it was all so dull and void of life. Like everything was black and white without reason, all sounds were muffled like my ears were full of cotton. I just lived my life like how I was expected to.

I graduated middle school with a solid enough score to enter a highly graded high school and continued to live my dull boring life. One in which I had no friends, no passion or hobbies. I simply just existed. I graduated high school and quickly enrolled into my local university which I graduated from with a degree in Shinkai communications. I then joined my fathers company, secured a steady office job and got a lease on my own apartment.

All of this is to say I was living the so-called modern dream. But to me it was like an endless day dream, being alive yet not living, doing without thinking. I was a model salary man, I worked sixty hours a week minimum sometimes even 84 without complaint. I complete my assignments exactly on time, not a minute early or late and I’d go out after work to drink with my co-workers every day. This was the life of the man named Zokuga Todotsune, a man which I killed with my own two hands.

I remember the day clearly, yes very clearly. The day I woke up from my endless day dream. It was a normal day like any other, the clouds cast a dull gray shadow over the city and I woke up to my alarm clock's repetitive beeps at exactly 5:00 in the morning.

I got out of bed, stretched, washed my hands and face as well as styled my hair. Then I brushed my teeth and cleaned my ears before getting dressed. I left my apartment at 5:24 and took 23 steps exactly to my apartment's staircase. I then climbed down the 61 steps that lead to the streets below.

I bought my standard breakfast for $4.27 from the convenience store on my way to work and arrived at my office by 5:45. The same time as I did every other day.

I rode the elevator to the 11th floor and listened to my fellow coworkers gossip about whatever drama had occurred in the company.

Who cheated on who with whos wife, what the next assignment would be and who would be promoted at the next celebration.

It was a pointless dribble meant to fill the few seconds in the elevator ride and I thought nothing of it. I can’t say I liked or disliked hearing it, I simply heard it. The idea of liking and not liking wasn’t programmed into me. The only things Zokuga Todotsune understood was how to live his life as ordinary as possible and nothing more.

Once on the 11th floor I waited my turn to leave the elevator and went to my desk, from there I began my assignment for the week and did as I did every other day. Nothing was different, I finished at 6 in the afternoon and went to the same local restaurant with my coworkers and drank cheap beer and ate Oden like we did everyday after work.

I listened to the others speak and nodded my head and smiled returning pre-programmed responses, laughed when appropriate and waved goodbye with a sad expression when it was time to depart.

I walked my normal path home where I would bath and stretch before going to bed. My daily routine finished. But something else happened that day.

I was stabbed, I don’t remember the exact reason for this but I’m assuming it was a mugging gone wrong, I simply wasn’t able to comprehend what was happening when it did and I only felt the warm thick liquid dripping down my stomach.

When I saw that bright crimson red liquid drip down the man's silver blade and pool under me on the floor it was like everything clicked, the light had returned to mono color world and I could hear again. Everything was so clear to me at that moment. A wide ear to ear smile creeped across my face and the man who stabbed me in both anger and confusion drew his knife and tried sliced my throat open.

But I dodged just in time, yes I dodged! I did something outside of my programming. At that moment the man known as Zokuga Todotsune had died, and who replaced him was a warrior. With a clean motion I smashed my right fist into my attacker's jaw knocking him unconscious with a single blow. I grabbed the knife as if fell mid air and stared at my reflection in the red tinted metal mirror.

By then people had begun to recognize what happened formed a crowd around me. women screamed and men ran to ask if I was okay. The robber was apprehended and his limbs bound by ropes and zipties.

But I I didn’t speak to those who asked if I was okay. I only stared at my smiling reflection in the blood stained metal the color red so visceral and present in my eyes.

I left before the police officers and ambulances arrived, heading straight to my apartment. Once inside I tore the place upside down in search of my dream, the thing I wanted to be, the reason for me existing. Then I found it, the same VHS which held the cheap movie that’d begun this journey of mine twenty two years prior.

I sat down on my bed as I bled out onto my white sheets and watched the movie from start to completion, credits and all. With that I confirmed what I’d suspected, I was indeed no longer Zokuga Todotsune.

That man died when he was stabbed, filling his body was instead the spirit of a samurai, the spirit which he’d suppressed so long ago deep inside his soul after being told his dream was impossible. This new man took the name Kenji, spelt with the kanji for swordsman and his last name taken from the movie that started it all. Tatakayaiba, battle blade.

With my new name I left my old world behind and entered a new one, I wanted to buy a real Katana but unfortunately they were illegal, if I wanted to I probably could have found one but I decided instead to start with something simple, something I’d forge into my own blade, a cheap katana replica with a blade so dull it couldn’t cut skin.

With this cheap toy sword unable to slice even bread I began my new life. At first I had no survival skills at all, I was unathletic from my years spent in an office chair and I had no idea how to get food or water.

I tried to drink from streams but ended up with diarrhea. I tried to hunt animals but was never able to catch them so I turned to berries and mushrooms which also gave me diarrhea.

That was the first few years of my life as a Ronin, starving, dehydrated and sick with diarrhea. But my passion never wavered, I challenged those who I came across, thugs, bandits, homeless people, fellow swordsman who ever I met I wanted to fight. Even if I thought I was on my death bed I’d still offer a battle.

A few times I even tried to challenge Kendo schools I’d found on my travels, of course I had no true experience or skill so I was defeated easily each time but I never let that deter me. It only meant I had much more power gain.

I think it was around the time I was thirty that things had changed, I’d grown strong enough to survive in the wild, and my skills had improved greatly, But even though I’d grown strong I still couldn’t cut anything, my katana had only grown more weathered and beaten from it’s usage and I considered finding a new one. But I decided not to, the blade had started with me so It’d end with me. If I threw that blade I might as well have become Zokuga Todotsune again.

Shortly after I made that decision my katana began to cut, though the blade was still dull I found it able to slice like a real blade. Not only that but it’d gained new abilities. Ones I never knew possible. I grew stronger than I thought I ever could. I could move as fast as the wind blew, I could survive damage that would kill me before without even a scratch and sense things around me without the need to see them directly. It was like something had awakened in me, something magical.

As such I decided to test myself, the toughest challenge I’ve probably ever faced even to this day. I fought a brown bear which raided my camp. Now as I currently am I could slice one down with a single stroke of my katana but at the time I’d only just unlocked my new power.

This deathmatch must have lasted over an hour, both of us slicing each other apart without weapons, it’s claws and my katana. We broke bones and sliced flesh, poured blood and cried tears. It’s claw just narrowly grazed my face leaving the two scars still present on my face today. One across my nose and another just ender my left eye.

In the end even with half my bones broken and almost all of my blood let out I’d proven victorious. I'd bested the strongest beast I knew of in the country, and despite my lethal injuries I survived and grew stronger. So much stronger, realizing this I began to test myself in more ridiculous ways.

I’d jump into ravines without any way to break my fall, battle hordes of beasts and legions of men. Every time I nearly died I would survive and grow stronger. If I challenged an entire Kendo school I could defeat them either sequentially or concurrently. Whether they wielded a bokken or real blade it didn’t matter. I still won.

Around the time I was forty I’d grown to a point in which no one I met could match me, no beast or man I encountered in my daily life proved a challenge, once again I felt the world begin to lose its color.

But right when it seemed like I’d come full circle I was told of a place filled with people like me. One which held battles between fighters without anything to gain other than honor and glory.

I think the man who told me was some rich politician, I’d stolen food from his car and when he tried to shoot me with a pistol. I sliced the barrel of the gun off as soon as he pulled it out. With nothing left to defend himself with, we simply talked about our lives as we ate his food. I told him of my life so far and he told me of his. In the end he explained this underground arena to me, a well known secret in the western coast of Edoland. A place full of people who had the same dilemma I did.

I went to the place he told me of and there I found exactly what he’d said I would. A small group of people who were the same as me, people who wanted to escape the modern day rat race and embrace the beauty of violence for glory and honor. Though none of our fights went as far as being lethal they were far more gruesome than anything you'd see on TV. For two years I spent everyday with these people pushing myself further than I thought possible everyday. We fought together, talked together, bathed together and ate together. We did nothing but hone our skills until they were as best as they could possibly be.

But just like before I’d quickly out grow them. Within just two years I reached such a level that none of them could prove a challenge to me. It was like an adult playing with children, to get even some enjoyment out if I’d need to hold back so much that I might as well have been fighting with both hands tied behind my back and blind folded with my sword in my mouth.

Though they were sad to see me go they understood I no longer had a home with them anymore, that I needed to find a challenge out there in the world to test me.

From then on I spent two more years traveling the country of Edoland, by now rumors of me had begun to spread and I did a few interviews, most making fun of me and my way of life but I didn’t care. If perhaps someone out there who could pose a challenge to me saw my interview and requested a match I’d be happy.

But no worthy challenger came, just the same young punks and old wise men who wanted to prove themselves, the same who’d been challenging me for years.

In the end they all were the same, they bled the same red blood and fell to the ground with the same thud. They cried the same tears and cursed me with the same insults as they took their last breaths. The only thing that changed was my gaze, one of no emotion seeing the fading grey blood drip from their bodies.

Only I had changed and the world around me was still as stagnant as it was nearly 20 years ago when I’d started my journey.

During my travels I stopped at the Shimona waterfall basin and met some strange creatures which offered me Sake, not one to deny an invitation I accepted and the rest is history. This simple rest stop would turn into the greatest challenge for my life, One greater than the brown bear or the knife which started it all. One which began on the 27th of July 2498.