Training Time Skip, Right?

Fortunately, I found a love hotel that had a hot shower to wash off the blood, and no one batted an eye at me. Unfortunately, after showering and dropping my bags on the floor, Muramasa told me to sit on the red heart-shaped bed.

'The Blood River expands whenever someone is killed by me' he explained. 'You've just been told about its effects. However, the impact on you is somewhat dulled—both by my active reduction and your heritage. Kojiro Sasaki was one of my wielders. Somehow, through fighting, he was able to fend off the effects and sealed me away after realizing it was impacting his swordsmanship too much. As a descendant of his, you have that ability, though not to the same extent. Again, this is reducing the effects you've felt, so you're aware of what it can do. That's why you need to fight every day for the next month until school starts.

And before you interrupt, the reason I want you to fight is because I'm degrading, dying. Soon, I will cease to exist, and all that will remain is my blade and the curse, which will take full effect, when you go to school. It will create pressure for you to keep fighting and training to ward off the effects. Any questions?'

"What the plum? Isn't there a way to keep you going?"

'No, there is not.'

"Plums. All right, I can do this. The arena will just have a different kind of audience. I'll get better at fighting and figure out how to stay in control. How long do you think you have, Mura?" I asked my best friend.

'Mura? Whatever. I have until the end of this week. It's the first of August, so by the seventh, I'll cease to exist. Within that time, you must fight in the arena and train outside of it as well.'

And with that, my training began. Is it cliché to have a training montage in an anime world? Probably, but I don't pluming care.

Every day started with running. Mura insisted I run everywhere, turning each morning into a grueling exercise in endurance. The streets of Kuoh became my personal track, where I pushed my limits with every stride. We checked out the school, and checked out nearby gyms, parks, and even the local cinema. From a distance, we spied a worn-down church, its once-grand architecture now marred by time. It was a stark reminder of the beauty that once was, and I found it strangely inspiring considering what happens there.

In the afternoons, I would return to the bar and head straight to the fighter's area. Filled with the shouts of spectators and the clang of fists against flesh. George, had been killed in a match, a reminder of the stakes involved. A shame. But as I stepped into the ring, I quickly pushed that thought aside.

During my matches, I began to notice a shift. I could read my opponents better, anticipating their moves before they even made them. Mura told me it was something I inherited from Kojiro. Yet, despite this newfound insight, I struggled to maintain control. The Feeling of the Insanity took over, and I remained painfully aware when I instinctively shaped my hand like a spear and thrust it into my opponents and ended their life. Each time I did, a wave of self-loathing crashed over me. I hated that part of myself, but I realized Instead of wasting time being emotional, I buried them deep, alongside all the other pluming stuff.

Meditation became another crucial aspect of my training. Mura insisted it would help me find focus, believing I had some latent talent for the blade. While I tried to keep an open mind, I didn't hold out much hope. I struggled to quiet my thoughts, but Mura guided me, urging me to visualize the flow of energy within me.

He also made me study swordsmen, their techniques and philosophies in hopes they become a source of inspiration. On some days, he'd have me scour the area for a giant stick to practice with—my makeshift training weapon. Swinging that hefty stick felt clumsy at first, but with each practice session, I began to feel a connection to the blade, I wasn't sure if there was a potential being a swordsman like Kojiro waiting to be unleashed.

Through sweat and determination, I pushed myself beyond my limits, hoping that each drop of blood and each moment of pain would prepare me for the battles to come.

And on the seventh night, I sat meditating, trying to block out the Blood River, trying to ignore the madness it amplified. Instead, I focused on finding Muramasa. Why? I wasn't sure, but this was the first time I had truly felt calm and at peace. I had come a long way from being a man who could pass for a woman, selling pictures and avoiding confrontation. Now, every day since waking up in this strange world, in a body so different from my own, I fought one to three times daily, only losing once to some guy rambling about heroes—and killing people! I never thought I would get used to it.

But that was neither here nor there; I could feel Muramasa now.

A river of blood stretched before me, just as he had described the very thing I was trying to avoid, I observed swords of all sorts littered around like discarded junk. At the center lay a katana that radiated death: Muramasa.

"About time, you're done reflecting? Hurry up, I don't have long now," the old blade spoke, his voice cutting through the tranquility.

"Sorry," I said, sheepishly rubbing the back of my head. "I didn't think it would take long, but wow, you look gross."

"Rude. Do you know why you're here yet?"

"Because I was reflecting?" I tilted my head, unsure.

"I'm ceasing to be, Ryou Sasaki. You have another three weeks until school starts, and you'll be mixing in with the others from the story. I don't know how far you'll go or how you'll end up, but know this: even while ceasing to exist, I shall be by your side, friend."

And just like that, the connection I never realized I had with Muramasa faded away. I found myself back on the familiar heart-shaped bed, Muramasa now resting on my lap, It felt hollow holding the handle it.

I felt alone.