Chapter 2: Sword of Muramasa


    I stared at the numbers displayed at the bottom of the television screen. The date, the time, there was no mistaking it. I was indeed transported back to the same day the demons attacked.


    “Four hours,” I said to myself.


    Somewhere within me, there was this seed of doubt that everything could have been a dream. But my memories were so vivid that my mind refused to believe it was not reality.


    And I knew that it was not the time for hesitations. I grabbed my phone and dialed a familiar number.


    A clicking sound was heard as the man answered.


    “Hey, what is it? I’m a bit busy now so you should call la—”


    “Jerry, this is urgent. I need you to meet me in front of the university gate,” I said, my voice deep and stern. “Two hours from now. Be sure to be there.”


    My friend Jerry was obviously baffled by my tone. “W-What are you talking about? You know that I’m on my job, right? I can’t afford to leave now! My boss will—”


    “—Just be there, okay?!” I snarled. “Look, listen. This involves the lives of people. I know you have a little sister. She’s your only family, right? Bring her along. Be sure to bring her along.”


    The last part was emphasized the most. There was a long pause after that, and I was sure that my friend, Jerry, was deep in his thoughts.


    “Mate, could you at least tell what this is about?” Jerry said, finally.


    I took a deep breath then sighed. My voice was calmer somehow. “I know it’s hard to believe, but you and your sister will die if you do not meet me there. Please, just this once. Listen to me.”


    My voice was half-croaking, half-crying. Back then, Jerry was the one who was with me when the apocalypse transpired. We survived the first day of the apocalypse, but eventually, Jerry decided to look for his sister. And he died along the way.


    I felt a squeezing sensation in my heart as those memories resurfaced. If these memories of mine were real, then this city was no longer safe. At the very least, we need to get out of here and go to that shelter.


    “I don’t understand,” said Jerry. From the other end of the line, I could hear the voice of his boss reprimanding him for using the phone while at work. “What happened, pal? Are you alright?”


    “I’m fine. Unlike you, I no longer have a family. Jerry, you’re my only real friend,” I said. “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you. Please listen to me just this once. Please.”


    There was a sigh of resignation from Jerry. “Fine. One o’clock then? The university gate.”


    “Yes,” I said. “Be sure to bring Kristine with you.”


    “I know,” said Jerry. “Then, I’ll have to talk with my boss here. He’s been glaring at me for quite some time now.”This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    I almost let out a chuckle. I was glad that he would come. “See you.”


    And the call ended.


    My mind wandered off to what I was going to do next. What was important was our survival. Buying firearms felt useless to me right now. Sure, they were effective against weak creatures like goblins, but as for the rest of the monsters that were about to come, they were nothing but metallic scraps.


    What I needed right now was a sword, or any other bladed weapon I could get my hands on.


    I grabbed a large bag inside my room, then went outside. I planned on emptying what little savings I had inside the bank. After all, money would become useless once all hell breaks loose. I needed to buy rations.


    After withdrawing money from the bank, I went to the grocery store and bought dried goods and a few bottles of water. I also went to the pharmacy and bought some emergency provisions. And lastly, I went to the old antique shop right across our street.


    Back when the apocalypse transpired, it was the same place where I got my weapon. But back then, the old store owner was already dead, and all the expensive antiques were already torn and shattered.


    I entered the door, and the metallic chimes rang. The old store owner lowered down the newspaper he was reading, then gazed at my direction.


    “Yes, what can I do for you?” he said in a monotone. He had probably dealt with certain people before: customers who were only here for sightseeing.


    “I’m here to buy a sword,” I said, my eyes glancing around the room. I realized that I could not see it anywhere.


    The old man raised his brow. He coughed then placed the newspaper on the wooden counter. “We do not sell those stuff here, young lad. Go somewhere else.”


    His voice was icy, but I ignored it.


    “The sword created by a person named Muzuchi,” I said.


    I saw the transitional change within the old man’s face.


    “Muzuchi?” said the old man. He peered at me behind his spectacles. “That’s an heirloom of my family. How did you know about it?”


    There was a hint of threat within those voice.


    So, it was an heirloom, huh? No wonder the blade was preserved so perfectly. Back then, that blade saved me numerous times.


    I placed a hand on the wooden counter. “Please let me buy it. I want to buy it. Please.”


    There was disbelief on the old man’s face. He snorted. “Young lad, an heirloom is not something you buy with money.”


    I inwardly groaned, but immediately regained my composure.


    I took out all the money I had in my bag. “Here’s all that I’ve got. I need that blade of yours. Please… sell it to me.”


    The money I had placed on the wooden counter was probably good enough for me to live for almost a year. It was my entire life’s saving.


    The old man took a momentary glance at the bills, then looked straight into my eyes.


    “That blade is called the Flowing River. It is a sacred treasure that was said to have been used by the famous warrior, Muramasa,” he said. “Even if you give me a hundred times of this amount, I will not sell it to you.”


    I closed my eyes for a moment. Just as I thought, it was impossible to obtain the sword using normal negotiations.


    “I see,” I breathed. “It’s a pity then.”


    The old man smirked. “If you understand that, then get out of my sho—”


    With a soft thud, my hand hit the old man’s neck, immediately making him unconscious. The memories of the time when I fought the demons were still very vivid within my memories. My current self right now could probably fight against armed soldiers and still win barehandedly.


    I grabbed the old man by his collar, carefully putting him down the ground.


    I looked around. I had long confirmed using my senses that this place was empty save for the old man and I.


    “Now, where’s the sword?”


    I moved pieces of antiques left and right, not really bothering to care if I broke some of them in the process. After all, these things would soon lose their value. What mattered most right now were human lives. The lives of my loved ones.


    After some painful search, I eventually found the sword hidden behind the cabinet of a wine cellar. I pulled it out of the scabbard.


    “Still perfect,” I said in glee.


    Like before, its blade glimmered at the faintest touch of light. It was something that befitted to be called a national treasure.


    “I missed you, partner,” I said as I sheathed the sword into its scabbard. Afterwards, I grabbed the newspaper the old man was reading before and used it to cover the entire sword. Being interrogated by police officers was something I would rather avoid right now.


    My eyes landed on the unconscious figure of the old man. Within me, I somehow wished he would not wake up. After all, the apocalypse that would soon come was a nightmare no one could avoid.


    “I’m sorry, old man,” I afforded him one last glance. “And thanks for the sword. Farewell.”


    With those parting words, I left the shop and went to our University.