Long ago in a distant land, Aku, the shape-shifting master of darkness, unleashed an unspeakable evil on the world. But one day, a samurai warrior, wielding a magic sword, stepped forth to oppose him. The battle was long and terrible, a legendary feat pitting man against monster. Before the final blow was struck, however, Aku opened a portal in time, and flung the warrior into the future, where his evil was the law. The samurai searched the land for many years, seeking a way to return to the past, and undo the future that was Aku…

And one day, he was successful.

But fate saw to it that this warrior would not be returning to his own time--not yet, though, not just yet. He had another mission to accomplish, one last stanza to be recorded in the legend of his life. His battle with Aku was over and his search for a way into the past was completed, but the adventures of the brave samurai warrior had really only begun…

And so, one quiet day in a sleepy Japanese village, the space-time continuum was ripped asunder, and Samurai Jack found himself one step closer to home, though he knew not how much more he had to travel…

2: Back to the Past--Enter Samurai Jack from Nowhere!

A cloud of dust erupted into the air as a pair of feet crashed onto the ground, and the quiet of the sleepy country village was briefly interrupted by the sound of somebody tumbling onto the road. He had been through a terrifying ordeal--well, several if one wanted to be specific--and landing upon a dirt road seemed the least out of all of them. The man groaned and came to, rubbing his head and prying open his bleary eyes so he could see around him.

The environment he met was a beautiful contrast to the murky slums and the barren wastelands that he had become so accustomed to. It was a sleepy, quiet, rural town, with happy villagers dotted everywhere as they conducted their lives in a private manner, and as he stood up and slowly explored the town, he began to realize just where exactly he was. There were merchants selling items he actually recognized, little children running and screaming in familiar clothes--none of them were not human--old men and women were sitting around tables smoking and playing chess, houses were made out of plank and straw instead of steel and concrete…

The sky above was blue, sunny, and clear, not the dismal atmosphere of smog he had been forced to breathe. There were no flying chariots--no chariots at all, just simple carts and wheelbarrows, with simple horses and mules pulling them. There were ducks and chickens, real ducks and chickens, waddling around and singing, and men tilling the fields, and women sewing clothes, and a blessed sign he thought he would never again see in his entire life:

A complete and utter lack of wanted signs posting the large bounty on his head.

So, he took a very deep breath--a very deep breath, since the air was clear and clean and smelled of cooked chicken and grass--sighed, and smiled. At last, the great warrior had come to the end of his odyssey, and found himself once again in his own land, with his own people.

"Finally," he sighed to himself, "I am home."

"Yah? Well, welcome home and be on your way now, young man!" called a voice from behind. The young man turned around quickly and saw an old woman waving him away. "Gotta harvest the crop now! Be on your way, good man!" He smiled, and allowed the old lady to pass. It was good to be among such friendly and simple folk again… but he couldn't afford to sit still for long. There was still one matter that egged at his mind, one last task he had to fulfill before he could truly draw the breath of relief. Replacing his smile with a look of serious concentration, the young man once known as Samurai Jack took a single step forward, the only direction he ever went, and continued on his journey.

Walking down dirt roads through the Japanese countryside, with nothing but hills and plains as far as the eye could see, was a saddening but welcome change from all the cold empty metallic life-forms that Jack had grown used to. It was sad because he had gotten used to the dystopian landscape and now everything he had taken for granted was a pleasure, but he resolved to turn things around and make the pleasurable sights normal ones, and those from his past--or future--merely forgotten memories.

Even though he was concentrating on his task at hand, Jack couldn't help but smile a little. He had really forgotten what it was like to wander across the countryside without having to worry about bounty hunters on his trail, or robots popping out of nowhere, or blind archers or crazed Scotsmen or two-headed worms that told strange riddles. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jack expected to run into a few of his old enemies, or variations of them, and brushed his hand up against the hilt of his sword more than once. But no, nothing strange greeted him at all during his walk; just normal animals and normal scenery.

Jack was used to going down very long roads, and his legs had been trained and exercised by many years of walking, kicking, running, and leaping, so the dirt path he traveled down was like nothing to him. It was indeed a good change to really see nothing but green grass and dipping hills, and to hear the sound of crickets chirping and birds singing, as he once did when he was young. Even if he did nothing else for the rest of his life but walk down that road, he would say that he was content, and his previous troubles were worth it just for those few hours of peace.

Eventually, Jack crossed into a larger town, one with much more activity than the other and a greater population, though even this town was hushed compared to some he had chanced through during his travels in the future. He quickly noticed, however, that something was terribly amiss with the town. There were no samurai warriors patrolling the area, and many of the people did not even carry swords. There were men in strange uniforms walking around the area, the only ones who had steel blades, and the carts and the houses were much more sophisticated than the ones he had seen in his youth. There were a few merchants selling guns, something he had seen only in the future, and there were even newspapers and free pieces of scattered propaganda that had not been seen in his time.

Curious, Jack waded through the crowd, many of whom stared at him for carrying a real sword. His gi was different from everybody else's, and even his footwear seemed a bit out of date. Jack finally came to the newspaper stand he had seen earlier, and checked the date on it, wondering if he had been sent to the right place. His eyes widened open in surprise as they read 1870, six-hundred years after his time. He was still in the future!

"What sort of trickery is this?" he asked himself. "How is it that I have traveled so far and accomplished so much, and yet I might as well be as far away from my own time as when I started out!" He sighed wearily, and put the paper down, walking away both confused and disappointed.

"I know that the time mechanism brought me out of the future, but why did it not bring me back all the way?" he wondered as he walked. "Could it be that… I have picked the wrong method home, and am here as a result? Or could there be divine powers at work here, who have guided me from the future into this era, a time which is both past and future for me…? I… cannot say… but for now, I shall assume that I have been put here for a reason. Until I find that reason, I shall have to continue my travels."

Having recently cleared things up by himself, sort of, Jack decided that it would be a good time to step inside a restaurant and refresh himself. He squeezed into the doors of the closest one, still half-expecting to be stared at by dozens of hungry bounty hunters. To his happy relief, the only people that really stared at him were a few ladies, giggling amongst themselves. The restaurant manager, a happy and chubby man who was polishing the counter, greeted him warmly with a smile.

"Ah, welcome sir! It's rare to see a person still wearing the older garbs of our country! Pray tell me, good sir, are you an officer?"

"No, why?"

"Oh, well, do you not know? The Meiji era went into effect about three years ago, and ever since, it's been illegal for the public to carry real swords. …Although I'm sure you have a good reason to carry yours!"

"Ah… yes," managed Jack nervously. "Would there… be any trouble for me?"

"Only if you start it. I don't really care for that law anyway. I say, as long as the customer's willing to pay for their meal, their business is their business. So, what can I get you today?"

"Hot tea, please."

"Of course. Coming up!" The chubby man turned around and poured a brew, while Jack sat back and allowed himself to relax. Technically, he had never been inside a restaurant before, or at least one that didn't pose some kind of a threat to him. About the only thing he had to worry about was undercooked food; nobody would be out hunting for him or looking for him, unless it was for an emergency. It was a concept that he would have to get used to.

The tea was given to Jack with a smile, who drank it with the deliberation of one wanting to enjoy every single moment of their time, as if the cup would be his last. He asked for something small but sufficient to eat, and allowed his guard to drop as he melted into the beautiful, quiet, but still very foreign world. He certainly didn't belong in 1870, though there was little he could do about it at the moment. It was poor to go out on an empty stomach and a dry throat.

As he was enjoying his drink, a very tall and very large person trudged into the restaurant. He was so big and heavy that the floor actually trembled slightly as his boots stomped down on the ground. People stared at him even more than they stared at Jack, for besides his size and his very non-Oriental dress, he was carrying a large broadsword on his back in plain view. If Jack's small sword had caused a little concern, then the bigger blade nearly caused an uproar.

As fate would have it--as fate always had it--the burly man crumbled onto the seat right next to Jack's, nodding once for the hardest drink in the house. Jack couldn't help but look at the man out of the corner of his eye as he drank, though he hadn't done anything yet. The man might've been a large one, but he was also very quiet, and swallowed his drink without making a sound--or even a grimace, and he had gulped down half a cup of a very powerful alcohol.

Unlike most Orientals, the man had long flaming hair that fell down his backside in a barely-restricted tail. He had bushy red eyebrows and a bushy red mustache, and piercing green eyes that could have melted a hole in the counter. His flowing green mantle concealed most of his clothes, which were vaguely similar to the outfits that Robin of Locksley and his men had worn while Jack lived with them in Britain. His face was a middle-aged one, creased with wrinkles though obviously it had not lost its power nor its spirit. He kept to himself, though, as he drank very quietly and appeared to stay conspicuous.

Just then, three police officers burst into the restaurant, startling a few people nearby. Without wasting a moment, they marched through the building and came straight to the counter, where a chubby tender and two swordsmen awaited him.

"Umm… may I help you gentlemen?" asked the tender. The police officers ignored him and surrounded the large quiet man sitting next to Jack.

"Hey, you! Who are you? By what right do you carry a sword like that? We haven't seen you around these parts before, and we've been told to be suspicious of foreigners! So? Come on! Answer us!"

The man kept silent. He even ignored them further by swallowing more of his drink.

"Didn't you hear what we were saying?" barked another officer. "Answer us now! Who are you? What are you doing in this land? Why do you have that sword with you in broad daylight?"

He still did not answer.

"What's the matter, don't you talk? Say something!"

"I am just here for a drink," replied the man at long last. "I don't want trouble."

"Well, you seem to want it! Otherwise, why else would you be carrying that sword around?"

"Because it's mine," he answered plainly. "Do I not have the right to possess my own property when I travel?"

"This is the Meiji era, sir!" snapped one of the officers. "We have a rule stating that only government officials may carry steel swords! You're violating our laws by having that thing around!"

"But I am not under your law. I come from a foreign country, far to the northwest."

"Where you come from doesn't matter!" they stated, nearly shouting. "You're still in our country and you have to obey our laws! Who are you, anyway? It would be wise if you answered us!" The man paused for awhile to finish his drink before answering.

"I don't think you want me to tell you," he mumbled. The man had a bass voice, very low and earthy like a giant's, and as deliberate and cordial as any nobleman's. He resembled one of the Scotsman's kin just faintly, except he was even taller and more muscular than they, and not nearly as loud.

"You had best cooperate!" they snapped, their hands wrapping around the sheaths of their sword. The people in the restaurant scattered away, sensing that trouble would start any moment, and even the tender ducked under the counter. Jack kept his silence and his distance, doing his best to conceal his own weapon away from the small squad. It was a strange rule that only the officials could carry swords, but he could understand how a civilization would want to gravitate towards peace. It would be better to be charged with that than for the police to turn him in to Aku, anyway.

"…Do you really want to know?" asked the man, as if the answer was something dreadful. Slowly he stood up, towering over the guards easily as he gazed down at them. They showed no fear as they stared back at him--yet. "…All right, if you really insist," he replied at long last. "My name is Rygar… They call me Rygar the Red."

"What?! No! That… can't be!" At once, the guards flew into shock, their faces pale and their eyes as wide as dinner-plates. Their entire bodies began to shake, their hands and knees more than anything, and if it were not for their convulsions, one would think that they had been turned into stone from fear. Jack gazed at the three officers and the large man, and since he had never heard the name before, he didn't know why the police were so petrified. The large man was as stoic as ever, though.

"I… see…" squeaked one of them. "Well… ehh… c-carry on, s-sir!" At once, the officers bolted out of the room, scrambling over each other in a mad attempt to get as far away from the building--or even the country itself--as possible. Surprisingly, the people who had been eating and laughing just five minutes ago were now making a mad dash for the door as well, screaming and yelling in horror as they retreated from something that seemed as dreadful as Aku himself, leaving only the large man in question and a very puzzled samurai.

With a snort, the man called Rygar picked up a cloth and wiped his mouth with it. He flipped a coin onto the abandoned counter and gave Jack a curious gaze, obviously wondering why the samurai had not bolted as well. For awhile, they both looked at each other, both of them as confused as the other. It was Jack who spoke first, though the speech itself was poor.

"Um… ex…cuse me, sir… ahh… but… who are you?"

"You do not know?" Jack shook his head. "Hmm… then I envy you. You have the privilege of not knowing who and what I am. That's rare in these days, as you've just seen. Even people who live in a country that I've never been to have heard of me. I really don't blame them for their reception of me, though. It's just to be expected."

"But who exactly are you?" wondered Jack. "Why were those people so afraid of you?" The taller man grumbled to himself, and looked around the room with his penetrating emerald eyes before beckoning with a shake of his shaggy head.

"Come outside," he said. "It's useless to be in here anyway. Of course, now that there are people who know that I'm here, we won't fare much better outside. But it's a warm day." Jack mentally agreed, and cautiously followed the large man outside, where--true to his warning--the people scattered and hid as they walked down the road. Even the police were not immune to the fear, and stood at a great distance as they watched the large man slowly leave their town, still trembling.

"I apologize," said Jack as he walked beside Rygar. "I am a foreigner here, and I have never heard of you before, or about any of your deeds."

"You do not look foreign," he argued, shaking his head. Jack looked down at his gi and sandals. "And you do not sound foreign."

"Well… that is… difficult to explain…"

"No more difficult than not knowing who and what I am," noted Rygar. Jack nodded his head.

"Yes. But tell me, who are you?"

"My name you know," replied the taller man. "But my name is what made me infamous. To put it coldly and simply, I am known as Rygar the Red because red is the color that many people associate me with. Red is the color of my hair, because I come from the Irish countryside; red is the color of blood, which I have caused to spill over into floods and deluges; red is the color of fire, which I have brought onto countless towns and villages, even entire cities. Yes, I am Rygar the Red, an unstoppable monster of a man who does not know pain, or fear, or emotion, or distraction--only carnage."

Jack only looked up at him for a brief while before speaking.

"I do not think you are what you claim, Rygar. How is it that one man can possibly accomplish all of that?"

"I wish to say no more to you," muttered the tall man. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, peering at Jack very carefully. Excusing his actions, he gently took Jack's face in his hand and looked over it very carefully, paying special attention to his cheeks.

"What are you looking for?" asked the samurai. Rygar snorted softly and released him.

"I am looking for a man with a cross-shaped scar on his cheek. I didn't suppose you were him, since he has long red hair, even more red than my own, but I had to make sure."

"A man with a cross-shaped scar on his face?" Rygar nodded his head.

"I have business with him. I traveled all the way here from my home so I could conduct my business with him."

"And… what business would that be?" murmured Jack darkly, his hand slowly going for his blade. If there was any truth to what Rygar had just told him--if he really was a destructive person--than a business meeting with somebody would most certainly lead into further destruction. Jack did not know the man with the scar, nor did he even know the man in front of him, but he could not go against his code and ignore a person in potential danger.

"Don't think you can defeat me with that sword, young man," warned Rygar emptily. "I know what is on your mind. You want to stop me from finding this man. I don't think you can. You do not know what I am like in the full carnage of battle." Jack's eyes squinted and his eyebrows curled downward in an angry glare as he watched Rygar reach behind him and slowly pull out his long broadsword, creating a delicious song of metal as he unsheathed it.

The blade was almost three times as long as Jack's, and three times wider as well, so it must have been incredibly heavy. The steel it was constructed from was so pure and strong that it could have split a boulder in half without receiving a dent, and even though Rygar claimed to be a destroyer, it looked as clean and polished as a sword hot from the forge. Its size and weight didn't seem to affect Rygar at all, because he easily hefted the massive sword in one hand.

WHOOSH! WHOOSH!

And in two effortless strokes, one horizontally and one vertically, he cleaved a nearby tree apart, splitting it into three sections and sending it crashing to the ground. Rygar looked as if he had just swatted at a fly; the tree itself had been as wide around as Jack, and several times taller. It had been a strong and mighty plant, but two simple strokes rendered it wasted upon the ground.

"Do not follow me," warned Rygar as he returned his sword to his sheath. "Not if you wish to live. That tree was great and proud, and would have exhausted any normal man who wanted to chop it down. Even a skilled lumberjack would have been cutting at it all day before he felled it, and the greatest would have used more than two strokes to perform what I have--and yet this was an effortless action on my account, the same force that you may use to slap a mosquito. I hope you learn from this, swordsman. I would not like to fight you since I only have business with that man. Good day."

Rygar nodded his head once and turned around to leave the village, sending the people scattering and screaming. A few people around Jack's area cautiously crept up to the butchered tree, gawking in amazement at the ease of its destruction. Some even came up to Jack, wondering how it was like to stand next to Rygar the Red without cowering. The samurai quickly became flooded with noise, and plowed his way through the crowd in an attempt to escape. It was not just the crowd he wanted to run from, it was the town.

He knew that, no matter what, he had to find the man with the cross-shaped scar on his cheek, and warn him of the coming danger.