“That,” an old man said, “Is a very unique design for a sword. Are you going to the Smith’s to have it made?”

The young soldier turned to the old man.

“No, sir.” he replied, “This is not a design, but what I use in battle.”

The soldier unhooked the wooden sword from his back and presented it to the old man. The grip was as long as the man’s forearm and decorated with the traditional wrappings found on a katana. The guard was short, but sturdy. The blade was straight until the last quarter, where it curved up. The man returned the sword and the soldier stood it up next to him to show the full length. Upright, it stood to the soldier’s waist. The sword was returned to its strap on the soldier’s back.

“You carry a wooden sword like that Miyamoto man. Is he an idol?”

“Yes and no. My brother and I designed and made our own practice swords and said that we would make them real. Then, when we heard about Miyamoto and saw that he practiced peaceful war. We followed his example and became samurai.”

The two started to walk together, talking about what the future might hold for Japan. They spoke, as old friends would, about simple things and simple worries. The two were enjoying the afternoon in a small teahouse when they heard an explosion from the city walls. The two ran out of the teahouse and saw soldiers pouring into the city, slaughtering the panicked citizens as they went. At the head of the invaders was a single man on a horse. He wore red samurai’s armor with a distinct sword in his hand. It was a straight, double-edged sword with a guard that protected his hand completely. The young soldier focused on the officer with hatred.

“I take it-” The older man said.

“Yes,” the soldier said, “stay here.” The young soldier unclasped his wooden block of a sword and charged. Most of the enemy soldiers stood shocked at a single soldier running toward them with a wooden sword, but, after the soldier crumbled and crippled one of their own to the ground, they were both terrified of this powerful opponent and excited at a chance to kill a talented young man. The enemies swarmed him, trying to kill him; however, the length of the sword and the skill of the young soldier pushed them back. Soon, a ring of soldiers formed around the lone samurai. At once, the ring closed in and the soldier felt his death approaching. Death did not come for him; instead, the old man appeared holding in his hands two simple wooden swords. Though he had been impaled, he stood high.

“Did you really think that I would let you have all the fun? After all, I am still the best swordsman in Japan.” Miyamoto said, revealing his identity, “And here I shall prove it!” The warrior moved quickly, swinging the two sticks with an expert’s hand. The ring of enemy soldiers was broken and soon both men, bleeding in spots and becoming tired, crippled the majority of the invading force.

“I told you to stay in the teahouse.” The young soldier scolded.

“Really? I did not hear that. Old age and the like.” The old master joked before falling to his knee. He looked down at the sword that had pierced him during the battle. “I do not have much time left.”

“No you do not old man.” The Red Samurai said as he approached, “Although I must commend you for making it this long. Now I get the honor of killing two legends.”

He confidently walked forward, grabbed a bow and a single arrow from his horse, and drew it back.

“He has no honor,” Miyamoto said to the young man, “He has made his sword into a killing weapon. He has betrayed what you set out to do. Restore honor to your name.”

The arrow embedded itself in the master’s chest, and with a small, knowing smile, he fell to the ground.

“One down. One to go.” The brother of the young soldier put his bow back on his horse and unsheathed his sword. “I guess I must thank him, though. Without him, we would not have made these swords and rise to where we are now. Look brother, I am the commander that will take Japan. I will become the most powerful and restore peace.”

“No. You are a tyrant. You betrayed what we swore to do. You ran from battle and disgraced yourself. Now, I do not see a brother. I see my enemy. As the General of this city, I will stop you.”

“Nice speech, but how about a bet? Remember how we did that as children? I will wager my army and land and everything within my kingdom and you will wager the city, your army, and all of your land. How is that?”

“Steep, but I guess that is how it must be.” The General took his stance and prepared to fight his brother. They ran at each other and met with a clash. Steel nicked at the hard wood and glanced off.

“It’s been a while since we fought, and I had a wooden block then.” They parried each other and dodged blows, “Now, I have superiority,” stated the Red Samurai. They dueled and danced around each other, landing blows to each other. “Give up!” The Red Samurai screamed, “I have killed the greatest swordsman and the title is now mine. You do not stand a chance-” He stopped and looked down. He saw his armor crumpled against him and saw that the wooden sword had pierced his body. He then felt his own armor inside him with the sword. “I guess I deserved that.” He said before he fell to the ground. The young soldier looked down at his brother and saw someone he once cared about dead at his feet. He looked at the soldiers around him.

“Drop your weapons!” They did as he commanded and bowed their heads. The battle was over. Though young soldier won, he felt like he lost instead.