Myron Malcohm Beckles was just an ordinary teenager living a typical 21st-century life-until one fateful day when a car accident changed everything. Instead of darkness, he found himself waking up in a strange world: the Taisho era in Japan, a perio...
A few minutes after that embarrassing moment, Myron made his way back to his room, still feeling the sting on his face from the slap earlier. It was the first time he had ever been slapped, not even by his parents or anyone else back in his own world. The sensation was both surprising and humiliating, adding to the long list of things that had gone wrong that day.
As he walked, Myron absentmindedly patted his cheek, still feeling the lingering warmth from the slap. ("This is just great,") he thought to himself, rolling his eyes in exasperation. ("First, I walked for an entire day, then I met this ninja who sounds just like Samuel L. Jackson, and to top it all off, I walked into the women's hot spring by ACCIDENT!! and got slapped for the first time in my life.")
He sighed deeply, trying to shake off the frustration. ("Can this night get any worse?") Myron wondered, glancing down at his hand as he squeezed it into a tight fist. Despite the string of unfortunate events, he realized that he needed to refocus. The mission ahead was too important to be distracted by a few mishaps.
"Hey, Tori," Myron said, glancing over at his small, feathery companion perched on his shoulder. "Before I go to sleep, I'm going to head outside and train a bit. I need to be ready for tomorrow."
Tori flapped her wings slightly, nodding in approval. "Chu, that sounds like a great idea, Myron. It's important to train and prepare yourself for whatever's going to happen next. You don't know what's waiting for you in Asakusa, so you need to be at your best."
Myron felt a renewed sense of determination wash over him as he entered his room, quickly grabbing his sword and checking the weight and feel of it in his hand. The blade was still new, but it had already seen its share of battles. He knew that training with it now would not only help him hone his skills but also build a deeper connection with the weapon, ensuring it would be an extension of his own will in the heat of battle.
With Tori perched on his shoulder, he made his way to the courtyard, where the night air was cool and refreshing. The moonlight bathed the area in a soft glow, casting long shadows across the ground. It was quiet, with only the rustling of leaves and the distant chirping of insects to keep him company.
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"This is it," he muttered to himself, feeling the weight of the day's events slowly lift from his shoulders. As he focused on his breathing, the black and crimson flames flickered to life along the edge of his blade, their heat warming the cool night air.
"Total Concentration: Flame Breathing..." Myron murmured, his voice steady and low as he channeled his energy. The flames intensified, wrapping around the blade like a living, breathing entity. He could feel the power coursing through him, ready to be unleashed.
"SEVENTH FORM: SEARING FLAME SPIRAL!!" Myron shouted, turning his sword in a reverse grip. With a swift, fluid motion, he spun his body, unleashing a blazing halo of black and crimson flames that illuminated the entire courtyard. The flames formed a perfect ring around him, burning brightly against the dark backdrop of the night sky.
