The young samurai-in-training tumbled through the forest like a skipping stone, his body crashing through leaves and branches with a frantic, chaotic force. Benimaru scrambled to his feet, his breath ragged and uneven, but his opponent showed no signs of letting up.
A flash of steel filled his vision as the adversary's blade came slicing down toward him. Desperation surged through Benimaru, and with every ounce of strength, he swung his katana upward. The clang of metal rang out as his sword deflected the enemy's, sending it spiraling off course and lodging deep into a nearby tree.
"Yes!" Benimaru roared, triumph swelling in his chest. For a moment, he thought he'd turned the tide of the battle.
But his victory was short-lived. His opponent charged forward, unbothered by the loss of their weapon. In a blur of motion, a brutal kick struck Benimaru's jaw, sending him sprawling to the forest floor with a sickening thud.
The Mujina lunged forward, aiming to drive its sandals into Benimaru's gut. But the young samurai reacted instinctively, twisting his body, rolling through the grass to narrowly avoid the blow, his feet finding solid ground beneath him.
The Mujina paused, its expression a mix of confusion and irritation. But it was only for a heartbeat. With a vicious growl, the creature surged forward again. Its sandals dug into the earth, and in the next moment, a crushing punch collided with Benimaru's midsection, winding him. Before Benimaru could recover, the Mujina's foot shot upward, striking his chin with bone-rattling force.
Benimaru clenched his teeth, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth as he bit down on his tongue to stay conscious. His world spun, but he forced himself to focus on his enemy.
He tightened his grip on his katana, determination replacing his dizziness. As the Mujina lunged again, Benimaru struck, the blade cutting through its arm like a hot knife through butter. Crimson sprayed from the wound, flooding the air in a wave of red.
But the Mujina barely flinched, its mouth agape in disbelief. It didn't react to the pain.
"That's right," Benimaru muttered, fighting to keep his balance, every inch of his body screaming in pain. "It's just you... and me—"
Before he could finish his words, the Mujina blurred into motion, the air crackling with its speed. A gust of wind followed in its wake, pushing against Benimaru as its fist shot forward, inches from his face, ready to shatter his skull.
Benimaru closed his eyes, bracing for the immediate pain that would surely follow. But just as he prepared for the worst, he heard a voice—familiar, unwavering.
"Seriously?! You want us to leave you behind?" Takeshi shouted from behind him, disbelief thick in his voice.
"Yes, both of you run! Get help!" Benimaru demanded, forcing himself to stand tall, gritting his teeth against the pain.
One of us can go, I'll stay to make sure—" Renma began, but Benimaru's roar cut him off.
"You idiot!" Benimaru snapped. "What if there's another one of these bastards? What if it cuts off Takeshi? Then what?!"
There was a tense silence between them. They knew he was right. But that didn't make it any easier to leave him behind.
"This would all be for nothing!" Benimaru's voice softened, thick with emotion. He couldn't bear the thought of letting his comrades fall. A young warrior on the edge of death, but one who couldn't face the prospect of losing others at his feet.
"I'm the better fighter out of the three of us," Benimaru continued, his voice steady despite the pain. "I may not be any good just yet, but I'll hold my own! So go! Go and bring back our lord!"
After a long pause, the two nodded, sheathing their swords and retreating into the forest.
The Mujina scoffed, whipping its blade across the ground. "You think you can stop me? It doesn't matter how many I kill... I'll be fed either way."
Benimaru's grip tightened on his katana, his body tense. He spat blood from his mouth, his gaze unwavering. "Sorry," he muttered, teeth clenched. "But you're going back hungry."
As the creature charged forward again, Benimaru's vision blurred. Tears welled in his eyes as the gravity of the situation hit him.
"I don't want to die..." he thought desperately.
"Please... don't let me die!" his inner voice screamed in terror.
In an instant, the Mujina's attack faltered. Crimson sprayed from its remaining hand as if from an invisible wound.
"You did good," a familiar voice rang out from the forest. Benimaru's heart soared as he turned to see a figure emerging from the shadows, a young samurai with white hair glistening in the sunlight, void-black eyes piercing into the Mujina's soul.
"I'll take it from here," Mirai declared, his tone calm but certain. Benimaru sank to his knees, his body giving way to relief, his vision swimming as tears finally broke free.
"Thank you, my lord!" he cried out in gratitude.
The Mujina sneered, still unphased. "Who do you think—"
Before it could finish, a wave of warmth enveloped its body. Its eyes widened in shock as Mirai's blade melted through its throat like a fish cutting through a calm tide. It was over before it even began.
The creature's head fell with a dull thud, rolling through the high grass as crimson pooled beneath it.
Mirai sheathed his sword with practiced ease, his expression impassive. As the other samurai emerged from their hiding spots, rushing to Benimaru's side, Takeshi and Renma called out to him.
"Benimaru!" they cried, running toward their fallen comrade.
Aoi and Fuu exchanged a quiet smile from the edge of the clearing, their eyes filled with a silent understanding.
I, however, turned to Mirai. The sight of the white-haired samurai clasping his hands together in a soft prayer stirred something within my curiosity . His actions only raised more questions about the enigmatic figure, but I didn't press him for answers. For now, surviving was enough.