THE FUTURE THAT IS AKU'S

A simple tug had failed to dislodge the enchanted weapon, but the Samurai had expected that.

"I should rely solely on my father's sword. Yet this is also a weapon forged for no other purpose than to serve the good."

Leverage and brute force had also not moved the weapon which was called one thing by the surrounding runes and yet was obviously another.

"Is it a simple thing? A glue that holds fast, like that left by a barnacle? A hidden switch?"

But several things told the warrior this was not the case. So at last he channeled all his Ki, and all his innate purity.

"It avails me nothing. The power of this weapon fairly speaks to me. It can end Aku's miserable life, freeing the people of this place and allowing me to freely pursue a portal with which to return and correct this hideous future. But it will not yield. Why? How have I failed?"

A moment later, the Samurai's eyes rose up, and he felt greatly foolish as he read further runes that explained it all quite clearly.

"It is not for thee. It is for her alone."

The Samurai knelt. He then apologized both to the weapon and all of its wielders throughout time.

"I see now that my failure was beyond my control. For I only failed to be born a woman. As for the rest, I too was chosen. Plucked by destiny from a life that now seems but a memory. Scythe Of Summers Past--I thank you for allowing me in your holy presence."

When his prayers of thanks and penance were done, the Samurai left what some called The Bronzed Cavern. Outside, into his view came a man that laughed like a dead thing, clad in dark cloaks. But the Samurai was not of interest to this giggling fool, and the odd one sought the places of cacti, coyotes, sun and sand, just past the Valley Of The Sun. Not five minutes later, what looked like a grizzled cowboy also came along. He looked at Jack.

"I cry your pardon, Sai-Samurai. Did a cloaked figure cross your eyes, not long before I did as well?"

The man's speech was odd, but the Samurai saw no reason to be rude, and
so merely answered the question he'd been asked.

"Yes. He sought the dry wastes just beyond us."

The cowboy withdrew a gun from its holster. That gun looked less like a crude cannon and more like a family sword, such as Jack himself wielded. Yet it was no more for him than the Slayer's Scythe had been.

"Thankee-Sai. May your father's face guide you in all things."

Jack nodded.

"It always does."

The samurai observed that the man in black had fled across the desert, and now this gunslinger followed. Perhaps certain quests were like imperfectly drawn parallel lines in some fashion, he reasoned. He held up the sword his father forged, and smiled lightly at it.

"We will yet find you a fit companion. Now, what was the name of that British sword?"