It was obvious from the opening moves that Sakai was seriously outmatched and Muramasa was toying with him. What he had seen Muramasa do in the past was nothing compared to the lesson he was giving the samurai lord. Muramasa began to surgically dismantle Sakai, cutting his expensive robes into ribbons, barely touching the flesh beneath. He cut only enough to open the skin so it would bleed but never enough to maim or kill. Sakai halted, drew back, and removed his mask. Beneath it his face was a combination of red flushed skin and white lips. He sucked in breath to feed his burning lungs. Muramasa gave him his chance to take in fresh air. And then he moved, this time with a difference. The game was over; now it was time to kill. And kill he did. Before Sakai could counter, his sword arm was taken off at the elbow, leaving him his shorter blade in his left hand. Then it, too, was on the earth. Sakai dropped to his knees, staring at his bloody stumps. He had only seconds to live and knew it.
