As he approached the address that the mission assignment instructed, Bokuden came upon a large mansion built in traditional Japanese architectural style. Although remaining calm on the inside, in order to maintain appearances, Bokuden was in fact boiling over with excitement for this assignment. According to the mission listing he would be aiding in the maintenance of an extremely old and famous blade, one said to have cut down over 100,000 men. Being of such distinction the name of the sword was omitted from the listing in order to deter ideas of theft. “Understandable,” Bokuden thought, this was after all a priceless artifact. Being a student of kenjutsu and legendary weaponry it was only natural for Bokuden to absolutely jump at the chance to take this mission and be able to interact with such a distinguished sword first hand.

As he knocked on the door, eagerly waiting to be shown to the keeping place of the sword, he was met by a short, fat man dressed in traditional samurai attire, even wearing his hair in a topknot. After seeing the style of the man’s dress he knew he had come to the right place. Bokuden slightly bowed his head in acknowledgement of the man before him and introduced himself. “I am Ryuzoji Bokuden, here in response to the request for assistance in handling the legendary sword. May I speak to your master? I would like to begin work right away.” Visions of a great warrior with whom he could discuss the fine details of kenjutsu and swords of great fame ran through Bokuden’s mind as the man’s face showed a feeling of rage.

“My master!?!? Who do you think you are? I’m the master of this house! The short man yelled, ”Now hurry up and get inside you have work to do." Bokuden looked down at the man with a confused look on his face. Could this really be the great warrior he was supposed to be meeting? Looks can be deceiving, but even his movements were clumsy and ungraceful, not resembling a master swordsman who should have spent a lifetime training his movements. “Whatever,” he thought to himself, “I’m probably just jumping to conclusions.”

The man led Bokuden down a long hallway and through a set of large doors, his brutish stomping causing Bokden to become more and more irritated each time one of his feet slammed against the floor. The doors led to what appeared to be a dojo… with cleaning supplies laid out in the middle of the sparring ring. The man then pulled his sword off of his waist and threw it on the ground with the cleaning supplies. At this point in was requiring nearly all of Bokuden’s restraint to stop himself from decapitating this fat little prick who showed such wonton disregard for his sword and was impersonating the role of a great warrior. As the man left the room he yelled to Bokuden that he had one hour to finish preparing the sword as he was hosting a party that evening.

“This is an assignment,“ Bokuden said now taking stock of what supplies were left for him to work with, “Leave your personal feelings out of it.” As he gazed upon what was left for him Bokuden’s agitation only grew. “An old, dirty rag, a bucket of water, and floor polish!?!?” Bokuden screamed. Now fully having lost any of the hope he had upon taking this mission Bokuden reached into his bag and pulled out the supplies he uses to maintain his own sword. He then reached for the sword and unsheathed it. Bokuden’s heart sunk down into his stomach as he was almost brought to tears at the sight of the blade’s condition. Though by the craftsmanship of the weapon and the incredibly high quality materials used it was plain to see that this sword had at one time been a masterpiece of smithing, but it was now rusting, dull as if it hadn’t been sharpened in ages, and covered with numerous irreparable cracks along the blade. This sword could no longer be used. Holding back his manly warrior tears Bokuden cleaned the sword up as best he could and returned it to the man before the party, with every last bit of killing intent leaking out of his body. He would return later that night after the mission had been documented as completed to appropriate the sword and give it a proper burial as is customary for any sword of the Ryuzoji clan hoping that this would allow the weapon to reclaim at least some of its dignity that had been stolen by that fat, insolent cur.


Word Count: 786/600