In a flash of white light, Musashi appeared. A man of thirty, he was dressed in a gray kimono, hair wild, beard untrimmed. He was kneeling, one knee raised vertically. A wakizashi was tucked through his sash. In his left hand he held a heavy katana.

"You have beck- what do you mean what's wrong with my eyes? What's wrong with YOUR eyes?" he asked, standing up quickly. The swordsman stopped suddenly as he scanned the room. Hundreds of bodies lay in front of him, all with their throat slit. They were no Japanese, but Musashi got the gist of it. This was obviously junshi, mass suicide to follow their lord into the afterlife. Even if they weren't samurai, these were devoted men. Their lord was lucky to have so many loyal retainers. He would have to give a prayer over their graves later.

Musashi turned back to the man. In his time, almost all Westerners save for specific circumstances were forbidden from entering Japan, lest the imperialists ruin the country the way they did China. "...You're a foreigner, then? Did these men kill themselves to rejoin their lord? That's admirable. I thought Westerners feared seppuku."