In the Art of the Blade there are multiple kinds of styles, one or two of which are practiced and perfected by a single swordsman throughout the course of their life. The way of the samurai boils down to one man’s discipline being swifter or stronger than anothers. Some styles may trump many others, but there always exits variants that may counter and defeat even the most skilled swordsman. It is a combination of adaptation and luck. You of all people know. Said the shogun.

So why are you telling me this? Jiyu asked, unamused.

Because I want you to remember what you died for. I want you to pass on from this world with no regrets. Replied the shogun, Hanto.

The only thing I’m regretting is prolonging this enough to hear you babble. Jiyu replied, winding back his blade and breaking into a sprint.

There came the crack of steel against rocks as pebbles shot up, past a katana which flew high. Hanto moved back, raising his blade and avoiding the pebbles Jiyu had smacked up and forward. Hanto, in this opening, retracted his arm and brought his blade forth through the debris to pierce Jiyu’s thrusting swing. Jiyu caught sight of this and darted right as quick he could.

He failed to clear the blade as the end of Hanto’s katana sliced his upper breast, leaving a small, stinging cut. As Hanto retracted his arm for another blow, Jiyu forced himself back, losing his balance and landing on his rear. Hanto stepped back, repositioning his sword and taking a stance.

Jiyu gripped his sword harder, slowly beginning to come to his knees as the shogun’s eyes didn’t leave his gaze.

If this is your style, I am unamused. Hanto said, sternly.

Shut the hell up. I ain’t started yet. Jiyu replied with startled anger in his voice.

Hanto came forth again, thrusting his blade in for another pierce. This time his attack was met with Jiyu meeting the shogun’s blade vertically, intercepting the thrust on its side.

Not this time. Jiyu yelled as he pulled a dagger from his back.

Hanto said nothing and moved forward, almost jolting past Jiyu as a cold feeling struck him in the hand holding the dagger. When Jiyu looked down there was a slice across his palm and the dagger was on the ground.

Jiyu looked up, suddenly noticing the shogun was no longer standing before him. Before Jiyu could turn there came a swipe as Hanto brough his blade up, slicing into Jiyu’s lower back, near his right kidney, which sent the swordsman toppling over in pain.

Jiyu fell backward as his sword was knocked to his side. Once again Jiyu lied, sitting on the road with Hanto’s blade staring his down.

The strength of the superior swordsman’s power shows its hand. This art, which is the law of the land, dictates the strong and the weak. There is no wavering from this line. I will end you now. Hanto said, coldly.

I didn’t wanna waste this. Jiyu grunted as he pulled a hand-cannon from under his happi.

Seeing the fuse on the firearm was already lit, Hanto’s eyes went wide.

I ain’t got time for this shit. Jiyu said as he pulled the trigger on the gun, firing a hot metallic ball into Hanto’s chest.

The shogun coughed up blood, fell to his knees, placed his hand on his chest and fell forward, dead.

Jiyu, tossing the gun aside, scoffed.

How you win in battle is irrelevant. You of all people should of known that.

As he got to his feet, Jiyu felt his back and moaned in pain.

Why’d it have to be there? Jiyu questioned as he snatched Hanto’s sword and started on down the road, limping.