Unchanged Samurai In Another World

Chapter 2: The Samurai Notices a Change

“……This forest is truly mysterious.”

While making his way along the pathless trail, Kurosu Mototsuna began to feel a growing sense of unease. Ever since he was a child, he had roamed the wilderness and, even after embarking on his travels, had walked through countless forests and mountains, yet this one was filled with far too many unfamiliar things.

There were flowers of dazzling, almost blinding colors, colossal spiders with heads as large as a man’s, and flocks of birds with abnormally long tail feathers. While it wasn’t uncommon for the vegetation to drastically change crossing from the mountain regions to the coastal areas, Mototsuna had never encountered a forest full of creatures so alien, so completely unlike anything he had seen or heard of before.

He wasn’t sure when he had become lost, but had he unknowingly crossed a border?

As he mused on this, evading the bizarre insects silently diving at him, all at once a massive object dropped from the tree directly in front of him.

“!?”

At first, he thought it was a broken branch falling from the tree, but upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a gigantic snake. Its size was extraordinary—its girth as thick as a man’s thigh and its length comparable to five adult men stretched out end to end. It was absurd to try and calculate how many hundreds of times larger this was than the average snake.

Taken aback, Mototsuna stopped in his tracks. Meanwhile, the great serpent began to coil itself with deliberate slowness, its eyes—void of any discernible emotion—turning toward him.

Even without knowing its true nature, a snake of such proportions could not possibly be an ordinary creature of this world. Deciding that a respectful approach was best, Mototsuna addressed it.

“I am Kurosu Mototsuna, a mere passing warrior. Might you be the Lord of this forest? If you are, I offer my greetings.”

Snakes were said to be embodiments of Benzaiten, the deity of wisdom and prosperity. In some regions, they were revered as sacred beasts. Based on its seemingly calm demeanor, it didn’t appear to be a demon or transformed spirit. If it were a land spirit of some renown, perhaps communication was possible.

As he waited for a response, the snake slowly raised its head, then, without warning, lunged forward with bared fangs toward Mototsuna’s face.

“So… It’s just a snake after all.”

Thinking it might be a divine entity, he was disappointed by its lack of intelligence. Withdrawing his wakizashi with practiced ease, Mototsuna swiftly beheaded the great snake without hesitation.

After the snake’s severed head hit the ground, its body writhed violently with what seemed like vengeful anger, but Mototsuna paid it no mind. Instead, he stared intently at his right hand.

What is this…?

Just now, he noticed an unusual quickness in his sword swing. Despite not feeling particularly rushed, it felt as though his blade moved faster than usual. His body seemed to have acted of its own accord—a sensation entirely foreign to him despite years of swordsmanship.

Was it just his imagination?

Shaking his head, he squatted beside the fallen serpent, retrieving a dagger from his sleeve to begin cutting away chunks of its flesh. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but there was no telling when he’d exit this forest, so securing provisions seemed prudent. Snake meat was considered one of the better options available in the wild, and with this one being so large, it would undoubtedly yield a substantial amount.

Just as he wiped the blood that spattered his face with his sleeve, he noticed something peculiar.

“Why… do I have an ear?”

Indeed, the right ear he had severed in combat during a challenge to a renowned martial school had returned to its original state. Prodding it revealed no pain, as if the entire event had been nothing but a dream. On further reflection, he realized there were odd sensations throughout his body.

This requires thorough examination…

A warrior must always be fully aware of his physical condition. Discovering an ailment during battle would mean the enemy would have no mercy. In fact, noticing a weakness in one’s opponent could dictate an aggressive attack—this was the proper stance of a combatant. It was only natural that a warrior who approached battle unprepared would be scorned.

Mototsuna had seen many examples of warriors who called for a halt during duels and were subsequently ridiculed by onlookers. Such displays of unseemliness were unacceptable; death would be preferable to that level of disgrace.

Searching for an appropriate resting spot, he found a convenient stream nearby and decided to take a brief respite. Placing his sword within arm’s reach, he retrieved a towel from his pack. After soaking it in the water to clean himself, he inspected his body with great care.

“Should I be pleased with this?”

True to his suspicions, changes weren’t limited to his right ear. His crooked finger, malformed since a sparring match with his eldest brother in childhood, was now straightened. His broken back teeth, broken by a monk-soldier’s spear in battle, had been restored. His toes, which he assumed rotted away after walking through snow for days, had returned. A gaping wound along his waist, inflicted when he thought he’d killed an enemy only to be struck from behind, was completely healed. Even the chronic pain he felt in his side from a gunshot wound was now absent without a trace.

Though old sword scars and injuries still marked his body, any impairments that once hindered his mobility had vanished. Testing his movements, his body felt as if it had regained the vigor it had at the beginning of his journey, almost like the vitality of youth had returned.

“…”

Filling a crude bamboo container with water, he reflected on his circumstances. Could he have been enchanted by a fox or a raccoon dog spirit? Tales of travelers being lured by beautiful women into forests only to find themselves lost were far too common.

Or was it possible he had unknowingly passed away and crossed into the afterlife?

No, he hadn’t been starved to death; he knew what that felt like from times of relentless battle and chase lasting days without rest. He was also confident he hadn’t fallen ill and died unnoticed; a warrior would not fail to detect such signs in his own body.

Could he have been surprised by an unseen attacker?

No, his instincts were well-honed enough to react to sudden attacks. Even during his travels, he hadn’t let his guard down—neither when relieving himself nor while sleeping. Unless struck by a well-aimed firearm from a distance, it was unlikely he could have been killed by a surprise strike.

Therefore…

“…Ruminating on unanswered questions is a waste of time.”

Mototsuna muttered, cutting off his circular thoughts. If reasoning offered no answers, the only course of action was to move forward. It was a fundamental tenet of a warrior’s creed. The fact that his vitality had returned was not necessarily a bad thing. If some supernatural being or demon appeared, it would serve as a diversion, and if this were the underworld, battling a demon guard would be a welcome challenge.

Rejuvenated, he turned to examining his possessions. Given the ambiguity of his current setting—he needed to be thorough.

His garments, once a deep navy but now completely black from prolonged wear, were accompanied by rusted gauntlets and shin guards. Among his weaponry were his katana, wakizashi, tanto, several throwing daggers, a few grappling hooks and needles, a sack of several days’ worth of unpolished rice, a small purse with some silver and copper coins, a fire-striking kit containing tinder and mugwort, a bottle of camphor oil for blade maintenance, and a bundle of cords used for tying his hair. Additionally, he had a sash, towel, rope, bamboo container, and the recently acquired snake meat.

After inspecting everything carefully, it seemed none of his belongings had changed, contrary to his fleeting hope that his old, worn armor had transformed into pristine condition.

Certainly, he had traveled a considerable distance since entering this forest, yet neither signs of people, roads, nor animal paths were visible. Though skilled in survival, it was unfortunate he lacked a hat or bedding for outdoor rest.

“‘If one considers lack as the norm, they’ll find no lack.’”

He recalled his father’s words.

“‘If you habituate yourself to harsh conditions, you’ll face emergencies with calmness!’” His deep voice often echoed with conviction.

“Select your words, select your actions.”

Indeed, his father had always been right.

—

**Support this work by clicking the heart!**

(Requires login)

—

**Support the Author**

**Log in with an account to experience all KakuYomu has to offer.**