The feet moved fast, from side to side, in a frantic and crazy dance. The sword swung in his hands, slicing, tearing at the bodies one by one, piling them up in the rain of the sky and blood.

His steps were wild, the look of a bloody animal, insatiable by the thirst for struggles, for victories. The blade of his sword had the glow of death, opening the path of no return for his fallen enemies, stagnant in the pool of his own blood.

The two felt the fervor of the battle subside, just as the path became full of corpses. Jin looked over his shoulder, his agitated breathing showed how much he was involved in the conflict, almost forgetting that Mugen was still there, covering him.

Mugen laughed, pointing the sword at his ally, or rather, his new enemy. He wanted to end this rivalry that existed between the two and only then, the one who would walk on the other's body, would return to Fuu and give the good news. Jin had understood the message, was so determined to end his friend's life, that he soon positioned himself, letting the tip of the sword fall forward, was ready. He would retaliate.

The clouds cleared and the rain stopped, starting the new combat. Both of them gave a shout with the advance, the battle cry, the initial impulse of a fight until the death. The swords clashed, right, left, in deadly choreography.

Jin felt his feet sink into the mire that the dirt road became, but that didn't stop him from going on. Mugen felt more difficult, his random and unpredictable movements were becoming limited in these conditions, due to the difficulty, he abandoned the wooden slippers and jumped, giving a vertical blow. The samurai defended, letting the blade slide, countering the wanderer.

His blow had been majestic, turning the fist, made the point go into Mugen's shoulder and turned it to the reverse side, opening up a huge wound. Blood dripped, staining the clothes already dotted with crimson. The wanderer grunted, sending out a flood of swear words and with the hilt of his sword he hit Jin's face, dropping his glasses.

They stayed apart for an instant, their bodies feeling the fatigue of the consecutive fights. They focused on each other, hand tightly clasping the sword, and surely this would be the last time they crossed, that they advanced against each other. The last dance, the last look, the farewell to a tenuous friendship, between companionship and hatred.

Mugen took the first step, going directly against Jin. He leaned forward slightly, cutting his rival in half.

Jin started up, directly confronting Mugen. Holding the sword in both hands, he initiated the attack, aimed at the neck of the former travel companion.

The wanderer changed the sword quickly, letting the momentum of the two bodies do what his injured arm was unable to do. The thread slid and cut the skin on the neck, allowing the blood to drain and then the samurai's gaze went out of focus. He fell to the ground with a thud and the sword rolled, escaping from his hand.

- Damn you. - whispered Jin. - It will make Fuu cry.

Mugen looked at him, his hand failing to contain the blood that flowed between his fingers.

- She always cries, she has no way. - he laughed, seeing the other smile with difficulty.

Soon there was no more grace, since Jin died from the blow of his sword.

- Now you can ask your master for forgiveness. Four-eyed idiot! - pressed the shoulder wound and walked, step by step, leaving the bodies behind.

His feet made their way to a new road, he laughed again, now completely alone. He decided that he would not go back to the city, it was time for the trio to separate.

Well ... Some died and some lived in the samurai's way.