Chapter 210: Senji Muramasa Shirou
In this dream world, Shirou could not completely control this body. Sometimes he was swayed by the residual memories and consciousness within the body. Although Shirou was driving the body, if he tried to do something that conflicted with the residual will of the body's original owner, the action might be halted.
While Shirou was influencing the body, the residual will of the body's original owner was also influencing Shirou's judgment. This was exactly the state of reverse Pseudo-Summoning, except that the original will of the body seemed to be hidden, with only some consciousness remaining.
The original owner of this body had a heart of steel, yet was filled with sympathy for the common people of the land, possessing a passionate desire to change the current era.
He was similar to Shirou, but also different. For example, he loved ironworking and forging, and he had an acceptance of the samurai social class. Shirou, having grown up with the concept of equality for all, would generally not approve of this class system, yet he now accepted this identity as a matter of course.
Compared to Shirou, who yearned for justice and could not ignore trouble right in front of him, this current body, as a samurai, had more of a spirit of taking the initiative to change society, change the world, and change others.
As a samurai, although kind-hearted, he would not treat the commoners on the street with a superior attitude. Yet, deep down, he did have a consciousness that he could not be confused with the common people. He held himself to a stricter standard and maintained a greater sense of reserve.
However, in most cases, the residual consciousness of this body was very similar to Shirou's thoughts, and his actions often mirrored Shirou's. At times, however, he displayed the mannerisms of a samurai of this era, much like the state of Iroha Isshiki encountered earlier.
The owner of this body was the swordsmith famous throughout the land for forging high-quality weaponry.
The evolution of the Japanese katana began with the earliest imported goods, the Jōkotō (ancient swords) not classified as katana. Then came the Kotō (old swords) forged by naturalized Tang Dynasty refugees fleeing conflict. Finally, generations of swordsmiths refined the essence, discarding the dross, and continuously developed new techniques, ultimately achieving the status of one of the world's three great famous swords.
And among these katana, the Muramasa blade holds a very high historical position as an outstanding example.
Furthermore, this person, as the founder of the Senji Muramasa lineage, was the man who forged the "Demon Blade Muramasa," arguably the most famous katana in the world besides
the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi. He was also the founder of the forging family collectively known as "Senji Muramasa."
If the Kusanagi-no-Tsurugi is a symbol of imperial power and one of the Three Sacred Treasures, the Kogarasu Maru is the progenitor of the Japanese sword forged by celestial smiths, and the Dōjigiri Yasutsuna is a divine mystery that slayed a demon, then Muramasa is the most famous killing weapon named after its swordsmith.
However, at this time, he was merely a young adult in his early thirties, born into a samurai family, living as a samurai. Although he loved forging, he had not yet taken it up as his lifelong profession, choosing instead to forge his most suitable katana to use as his weapon.
He left home at the age of fifteen, traveled to various domains, studied under many famous teachers, and observed renowned swordsmiths from across the country. While his martial arts were not top-tier, his forging technique had improved significantly, particularly in sword forging, a field where perhaps only a few people in the world could surpass him.
In his early years, he fought for the daimyō of his hometown or served as a mercenary for local lords during wars. He was now a seasoned warrior.
Wherever he went, important figures sought to recruit him, whether as a swordsmith to develop weapons or as a leader in battle; he was skilled in both. If he wished, he could have attained a high official position, but he refused them all. This person was constantly conflicted, searching for a way to change this age of war and chaos.
He sought not just temporary peace, but a way to break the millennial cycle of "When the world prospers, the common people suffer; when the world falls, the common people suffer."
In the dream world, there was no definite sense of time. Shirou, acting as a samurai named Muramasa, traveled throughout the land and witnessed various events. Because he could not use Magecraft, his understanding of swordsmanship deepened during these journeys and training.
This time, he passed through a secluded small town surrounded by mountains. Before he could enter the town, he was surrounded by a group of local farmers wearing patched, worn-out clothes. Each of them held either a hoe, a carrying pole, a sickle, or a pitchfork. They all looked very nervous and agitated.
Shirou was about to ask them what the matter was.
At that moment, a family walked out from the group of farmers and immediately performed a dogeza (kneeling in supplication). With their palms flat on the ground and their heads buried in the dirt—in a posture where every breath inhaled dust—they respectfully pleaded:
"Samurai-sama, please help us!"
"Please get up and speak," Shirou walked up and said to them. Kneeling on the ground were a sallow, sickly woman and an old farmer in his fifties or sixties leaning on a cane. Shirou couldn't bear to leave them kneeling like that.
The farmers remained on their knees. The old farmer wept, showing the few teeth he had left, and pitifully said:
"Our grandson, only four years old, was taken hostage by a bandit. Please, you must save him. Although we farmers don't have much money, we are willing to exchange all of this year's harvest after tax for money, or pay you directly with refined grain. Please! Samurai-sama!"
The old farmer and his family repeatedly bowed their heads in request.
"A child, that is indeed a thorny matter. I understand. Just take me to see where the bandit ran into," Shirou nodded and said.
"Yes! Yes! Thank you very much!" The farmers quickly helped the old man up from the ground and led Shirou toward the fenced village.
"It's over there," the old farmer pointed inside.
Inside the village, which consisted of over twenty small huts built with wood and thatch, there was a smaller, crude wooden shed next to the central path. This was the village's communal woodshed.
The woodshed had only one exit, a narrow one that allowed only one adult to pass through at a time. The faint sound of a child crying could be heard from the window, the voice already hoarse and sounding very weak.
"When was the bandit cornered there?" Shirou asked.
"We discovered him in the early morning. He was running around, brandishing a sword, and unexpectedly grabbed my grandson. That child hasn't eaten a single bite all day. My poor grandson has such a bitter fate," the old farmer said, tears in his eyes. Farm families relied on their children to support them in old age, so nothing was more important to the old man than his grandson, who had now encountered such a terrible event.
Shirou pondered for a moment, then turned and instructed the woman: "I don't need money or grain. Please prepare two large rice balls for me now. If you can, add some oil and crushed meat, and try to make them as fragrant as possible."
"Rice balls? Are you going to eat now? Can you please save the child before you eat?" The woman looked at the man with suspicion. Could he be planning to eat and then just leave? If so, her son would truly be lost.
"No, the rice balls are for the bandit and the child inside," Shirou explained.
"Hurry! Do as Samurai-sama says! We can only rely on this great man now!" the old farmer shouted, striking the ground with his cane.
"Yes!!" The woman frantically ran toward her home, nearly stumbling several times along the way.
"Also, find someone to switch clothes with me," Shirou said.
"Clothes? What kind of clothes?" the farmer whose son was held hostage asked in confusion.
"Hmm, ordinary farmer's clothes will do. If I go in dressed as a samurai, it might provoke the bandit," Shirou nodded and said.
"Take them off! Take them off now! You idiot son!" the old farmer shouted, raising his cane to hit his son.
"Yes, yes!" The farmer, thinking of his child, immediately stripped naked, leaving only his loincloth. He didn't feel ashamed at all in front of so many people.
Shirou also changed out of his clothes. The old farmer's wife quickly wiped her hands on her clothes several times and respectfully accepted Shirou's formal samurai attire.
Shirou wasn't worried about the money and valuables in his clothes. No one here would dare to steal from a samurai, and the lives of the family were at stake.
Dozens of households living on the outskirts of the village and passersby gathered to watch. Among those who arrived after seeing the crowd were a young man dressed as a samurai with a black ponytail, and four farmers from outside the region.
"With so many people, why are they still afraid of one bandit?" a stranger asked in confusion.
"You don't know. The bandit grabbed a family's child, a four or five-year-old boy, the only male in that family. He hasn't eaten a bite since last night. It's truly pitiful," a local man lamented, shaking his head.
"What is that well-built man changing his clothes for?" the stranger asked curiously.
"That's the samurai who was invited to save the child," the local man said.
"A samurai! A samurai is willing to help farmers like us?" the stranger asked excitedly.
"Well, there are all sorts of people in this world. They are lucky to have encountered a samurai who likes to meddle in others' business. But with the child being held hostage, what can even a samurai do?" the local man said.
"Yes! Samurai-sama, the rice balls are ready." At that moment, the woman brought two rice balls wrapped in vegetable leaves. They were topped with chopped green onions, drizzled with meat oil, and smelled very appetizing.
"Good. I'll be right back." Shirou, now dressed in farmer's clothes, changed the way he tied his katana, moving it to his back so it couldn't be seen from the front.
He then walked toward the woodshed entrance, holding the rice balls.
Inside, the bandit was sitting on a pile of straw, holding a sword against the child, while tightly clutching the child's back with his other hand.
"Don't come any closer! If you move closer, I'll kill this child!" the man inside shouted hysterically.
Cornered by the villagers and having gone hungry for a day, the bandit's nerves were shot. It wouldn't be surprising if he did anything if provoked further.
"Don't come any closer! Don't come any closer!"
Shirou raised his hands and spoke softly: "Don't worry, I won't enter the woodshed. I'm just here to bring you food. The child next to you hasn't eaten all day. He's going to starve if this continues, so his family asked me to bring you both rice balls."
"You must be hungry too, after half a day. Here, one is for you, and the other is for the child to eat." Shirou said, throwing the rice balls inside.
The rice balls landed directly in front of the bandit, roughly at the level of his shins below his knees as he sat. He would have to bend down to pick them up.
"You, move back! Hurry!" The bandit swallowed hard and growled menacingly at the doorway, brandishing his sword.
"Alright, alright. Everything can be negotiated as long as the child comes out." Shirou raised his hands and took three steps back.
Seeing the farmer at the door retreat, the bandit, who was already starving, could no longer resist the fragrant smell of the food. He let go of the child with the hand clutching his back and leaned forward to pick up the rice balls on the straw. The moment he was about to bite into one, he relaxed his guard.
In that instant, a sharp light flashed in Shirou's eyes. He lunged forward. Maintaining his forward momentum, his left hand reached back and pushed the scabbard forward. The moment his right hand touched the sword hilt, a cold light flashed.
Battojutsu (Quick-draw)!
"Waaahhh! Don't come near me!!" the man roared! He moved the hand holding the sword, intending to stab the child's face.
But at that moment, the tip of the blade, severed during the movement, dropped to the ground. The sharp blade in Shirou's hand had effortlessly cut through the bandit's long sword and stopped right at his nose.
"Wuwuwu, don't kill me! Don't kill me!" The bandit felt the chill of the blade tip and cried out in collapse.
"If you stop now, there's a chance for you to be handed over to the authorities and start over," Shirou said coldly to the bandit.
"I know I was wrong, Samurai-sama! Please spare me. I only did this because I was starving and had no choice," the bandit knelt on the ground, begging for his life.
"I understand. Since you admit your mistake, I will transfer you to the authorities," Shirou moved the sword slightly and said to the child. "Alright, child, come behind me."
"Yes... wuwu!" The terrified young child cried, trembling, and slowly moved behind the adult who held a sword—which should have been terrifying—but now gave him a sense of security.
'Authorities? If it weren't for the authorities, I wouldn't have been forced to become a thief! You're forcing me to my death... then you go first!' A malicious light flashed in the bandit's eyes.
Just as the child moved in front of him, the bandit suddenly lunged!
"Waaahhh!!! Die!" The bandit grabbed the child and shoved him toward Shirou's blade.
Shirou quickly retreated, moving the blade away.
"Even if I die! I'll take you all with me! Die! I'll kill all of you, and then kill all the villagers outside!" The bandit reached back to his belt, drew a small knife he had hidden there, and plunged it directly toward Shirou's vulnerable abdomen.
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