Prologue

Masashi Kenjiro, from a young age, was captivated by anime, particularly idolizing characters like Atomic Samurai from OPM and Himura Kenshin from Samurai X. This passion drove him to learn the ways of the katana early in life, showcasing a prodigious talent for mastering various sword techniques. His favorite fighting style became the quick draw, which he honed to perfection through relentless practice and by emulating moves he observed in anime.

A genius in combat, Kenjiro could replicate and adapt sword techniques he saw, augmenting his own formidable skills. His military career exemplified his prowess; armed solely with his katana, he defied conventional limits, effortlessly slicing through bullets and even tanks with supernatural strength and speed. Unburdened by notions of honor, he was a ruthless force on the battlefield, feared and respected by friend and foe alike.

Kenjiro's versatility extended beyond the katana; he was proficient with various weapons and formidable in barehanded combat. His unique ability to mimic fighting and training techniques, honed through careful observation of both real-world and fictional sources, further enhanced his combat repertoire, excluding supernatural abilities like elemental powers or magic.

After retiring from the military, Kenjiro's interests expanded far beyond combat; during his retirement, he immersed himself in various hobbies such as cooking, singing, crafting, playing musical instruments, and more. His greatest passion was blacksmithing, where he dedicated himself to perfecting his swords, making them stronger and sharper.

Masashi Kenjiro maintained an aura of invincibility, always with his katana by his side, unchallenged even by military or police forces. One day, on his way to the grocery store, a speeding truck suddenly careened towards him. With lightning reflexes, Kenjiro effortlessly dodged it, perplexed by the truck's erratic behavior. Despite the traffic light signaling for pedestrians, he brushed it off as a reckless driver, swearing under his breath about the near-miss.

At the store, Kenjiro purchased his groceries, his mind still mulling over the strange encounter. As he prepared to return home, the same truck appeared again, hurtling towards him with deadly intent. Kenjiro evaded it once more, watching as it sped away into the distance. Frustration boiled within him as he contemplated the truck's bizarre and persistent attacks.

"Is that fucking driver out to get me? A fucking truck assassin? Did someone with a grudge against me hire that thing to kill me? Hah, they think they can take me out with a goddamn speedy truck, huh?" Kenjiro muttered to himself, eyes narrowing with suspicion. "Fine. Tomorrow, I'll be fucking ready, you motherfucker."

The next day arrived, and Kenjiro positioned himself at the crossroad, sword drawn in a swift stance. As the truck thundered towards him, he steeled himself, his blood boiling with determination to slash it in half.

"You've fucking asked for it, you bastard," Kenjiro growled, his grip tightening on the hilt. "I've cut through goddamn tanks; a fucking truck is child's play. I'm gonna slice you and your fucking beloved truck to pieces."

With practiced precision, he lunged at the truck, intending to cleave it apart. To his shock, He didn't expect his sword to break in half, and there wasn't even a scratch on the truck. Before crashing into it, he desperately searched for the driver, only to realize there wasn't a single person in the driver or passenger seat. Bleeding and near death, Kenjiro's mind raced with disbelief.

"Damn it, is this it for me? What the fuck is that thing? How the fuck did it not get slashed or even scratched? And where the fuck is the driver?" Kenjiro's coughs punctuated his thoughts, spiraling in anguish as he struggled to comprehend the surreal situation. "My beloved sword, I've fucking raised it for so long. It's been with me through everything, and now it's fucking broken. Is this some fucking magical truck that sends people to another goddamn world like in those damn anime stories? I'm happy, but why the fuck must my katana be broken? It's been more like a friend to me than anyone else. This is for my fucking grave too. Why, god, whyyyyy? You know what? I think this is my fault too. It's weird that the same damn truck keeps coming at me every time I cross the road. I've never even heard of a fucking truck assassin before, but fuck it. I can't blame god for this. But I never asked for this shit either, so why the fuck can't I blame him? Fine, whatever. I'm gonna ask him later for..." His thoughts trailed off as the same truck turned around and crashed to him again, not even letting him die in peace.