[Muramasa Uemon]

Muramasa Uemon - (Age 11)

In the Land of Spears near a field of tall grass stood a boy wearing a scowl looking up at an armored swordsman.

An accusatory finger rose to point rather bluntly at the warrior. "I challenge you." A small but bold voice called out. Anger hung on every word. For a minute there was silence... and then the swordsman drank from a gourd. "Don't ignore me!" The boy shouted again. Without warning, he charged at them.

A kick sent him sprawling to the ground. "Begone, child." Said the warrior harshly, not even sparing the boy a pitied glance. Slowly the youth struggled to his feet. Scowling harder still. "My name is Muramasa Uemon... I challenge you, rōnin." Upon turning to leave the swordsman took pause after hearing his name. "Muramasa..." They said, pivoting back around to face him. "A pup from that family of swordsmiths." Apparently, their interest had been piqued. Good for him.

Uemon's eyes narrowed upon his foe. Fury in his gaze. "Quite a fearsome expression you have there." The warrior quipped, half truthful, half mocking. His eyes did not waver. "Shut up." He spat back. Venomous. "Draw your sword." At this insistence the swordsman turned fully to face the boy, folding their arms in front of them. A bold young cub had finally gotten their attention... but such danger was best left alone.

[Muramasa Uemon]

Muramasa Uemon - (Age 11)

A shake of the swordsman's head caused his gaze to narrow even further. Hatred he wore plain on his face.

Unslinging a large katana he wore over his back he locked his gaze on the warrior. "Draw?" They said. "Before I even tell you my name?" Uemon paused for a moment before shaking his head violently. "Fine, then." His small voice was harsh. "Name yourself." Clearly he did not care exactly about the etiquette of the ordeal. Only the outcome. "I can not do that." Was the swordsman's stern response. The child's eyes moved back and forth in thought. "Then..." He grit his teeth together. Patience failed. "Just die!" Unsheathed blade. A mad charge.

The boy's small frame wobbled, weight of the sword clearly too heavy for him. But there was some discipline to his movements.

First his downward swing met grass. "Too slow." The warrior said, easily sidestepping the blow. A second faster swing connected with armor. Ringing. "Not enough power." A much larger hand reached out to grip his own and twist. Uemon cried out in pain. But he did not release his sword. Brutally, a knee to his stomach sent the boy tumbling backwards a ways. Coming to a sliding halt he winced. "Damn it!" His small voice was now a growl. Struggling once more to his feet he raised his large sword to point  at the warrior in front of him. Glaring. "On the honor of the Muramasa Clan... I will slay you."

Under their helmet the swordsman could only arch an eyebrow. Amused. "Tall words for such a short samurai." A small, false laugh sounded as the boy spat on the ground. "I'd rather die than be one." He said. "They're scum... like you." More and more the warrior seemed to indulge their curiousity. One of their hands came up to stroke their chin. "A swordsmith's boy who hates samurai... interesting." Uemon was having none of it. "Stop talking and draw already!" After a long pause the warrior sighed deeply. A hand moved to their left hip, gripping the white hilt of their katana. "Fine." They spoke, a tinge of exasperation present in their voice. "I will indulge you... Muramasa Uemon." In one swift motion they drew the blade.

This was it... this was exactly what he had been searching for.

[Muramasa Uemon]

Unknown Swordsman

Overwhelming. It was quite literally the only word anyone could use to describe the swordsman's presence.

Going from completely unbothered to exerting tremendous killing intent with just a single movement. Uemon had never experienced anything like it before in his life. Even before the first blow of the duel had been struck he knew. He had no chance at winning this battle whatsoever. But he did not relent.

Anger is a powerful emotion. The boy's face contorted into a show of pure fury. Of vengeance. "The first blow is yours." Tightening his grip he went to charge... but hesitated after a step. Sweat dripped from his brow. "If I enter his range..." He thought, eyes still narrowed on his foe. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him to run. "He'll kill me." Fear. Panic, perhaps. Emotions he had felt in the past but never to this extent. The person before him did not seem a mere man... but instead a fierce god. Waiting calmly to bring destruction to all.

"What's the matter, boy?" Another taunt. His knuckles were white by this point. Uemon's breathing had become heavy. His heart pounded. "Come." Death surely awaited if he dared to approach... but he had no choice. This was what he sought. Vermin like this killed his father. Even if his body was cut to ribbons he had to try. Eyes widening madly, teeth gnashing together he renewed his grip. "AHHHHHHHHH!!!" A broken scream filled the air, echoing for what seemed like miles.

Finally. Madly. The youth dashed forward into certain doom.

[Muramasa Uemon]

Unknown Swordsman

It was true what they said about the Muramasa.

Half-mad... or they at least they had the potential to be. As the boy unleashed a flurry of crazed sword swings each one was expertly deflected or parried by the warrior. "Faster." Was all they said, their defense infallible. "Harder." Blade met blade and he pressed his assault. "SHUT! UP!" The boy's dark eyes burned with a singular fury. Despite his wild strikes there was something more there. Discipline behind the desperation.

Intriguing. Thoroughly unique.

Sounds of metal on metal rang throughout the field. Travelers on a nearby road stopped to observe. "You possess some middling amount of skill, though..." Blade met blade and the imposing warrior locked eyes with the boy. Towering over him like this Uemon felt as if he was in the jaws of some great beast. Waiting to be swallowed whole. "You are twenty years too young to best me." His legs shook as the samurai bore down on him with their full weight. Muscling him backwards with little trouble. Up close like this the boy noticed something strange. Under his helmet the warrior almost looked...

"Pretty?" A revelation that did not stop his sweating. Or trembling. In a single movement the warrior pushed him backwards, hooked underneath the tsuba of his katana with the tip of her own, and disarmed him. Flinging his weapon high into the air to stick unceremoniously into the ground several feet away. Stepping forward faster than the eye could see the samurai delivered a crushing punch to his stomach. "Ah!" Grunting, his eyes bulged and saliva flew from his mouth. It felt like he had been crashed into by a wagon. Was this it?

Uemon went tumbling to the ground, rolling through the tall grass for a time before ending up slumped in a pile. Groaning.

[Muramasa Uemon]

Unknown Swordsman

For awhile the only sounds audible in the field were the boy's own strained groans as he attempted to struggle to his feet.

Truthfully the rōnin was being modest. Twenty years? Try fifty. Not only did his age, height, and weight put the runt at a disadvantage but this swordsman had a level of mastery that was near unheard of. "Your weapon is gone. This duel is over." In both Jujitsu and the Rōtetsusen-ryū the child was no match. "I... don't... care." Despite his battered state and wobbly knees the boy was still capable of such venom. Impressive... but his refusal to quit would be the death of him one day. "Even if... I die..." He was barely conscious from the look of it. But those fierce dark eyes burned right through rōnin's helmet. "I'll kill my enemies... every last one." A grand boast. Or it would be if his conviction was not so genuine. For a moment the boy seemed much older. A trick of the mind, perhaps. Or simple insanity like his progenitor of old.

A hermit, this swordsman was not. Word of Muramasa Iemitsu's treason had spread throughout the lands. If this was his son there was only one thing he could possibly want. If Muramasa Uemon kept on like this he would surely fall before he achieved he gained his satisfaction. "Come then, boy." Sheathing his sword the samurai lowered themself into an iaijutsu stance. "Kill me... if you can." Of course he could not. But it was time to show this Uemon the vast distance between them. A taste of what was to come if he was committed to this suicidal pursuit.

Rage mixed with pain flooded the youth's expression. Like a mad dog he charged a final time, stumbling due to the damage he'd sustained. The final blow occurred in a flash. A fatal millisecond. Draw, horizontal cut, sheathe. Uemon stopped dead in his tracks. Killing intent flooded his senses. Looking down to his shirt he watched in real time as several seconds passed... and his shirt split open across his torso. A delayed cut. So fast the movement had been imperceptible. The rōnin watched as he fell to his knees. Disbelief on his face and unable to move any further due to the suffocating pressure in the air.

If the swordsman wanted they could have split him open without a second thought... he had lost. Devastatingly.