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This was actually a dream of mine, but i decided to write it as a first-person short story... maybe itll entertin someone.... i suck at actually startting the actual story, so here goes........


Midnight, as i walk down an urban alley, the same street i have walked through during the day, but rarely seen in the twilight hours. It is a completely different place, a whole new sensation overxomes the old as the sun sets. My name is sam, sam shituken. I've been alive for well over a millenia, but people still mistake me for being in my twenties. I leave the dark alley and venture into the square, where young teenagers are still meandering along the sidewalks. I approach a department store, and decide to take a look, it was fairly new. as i stand in front of a mirror, i see why they mistake me. in the mirror before me was a picture of perfection: tall, lean, and sinewy body - i couldve been mistaken from someone out of a fairytale. Skin the color of alabaster, yet hair as red as an inferno - with a hairstyle animators design their characters after - spiked straight back, with one strand crossing the bridge of my nose. Women stop and pointat my clothes, i stand shirtless, with a black trenchcoat that flows over my overdefined torso, and drops to the floor at my heels. women giggle and dare each other to approach me. they conetinue to analyze my appearence- i waer the same outfit nearly every day, sometimes substituting the coat for a black "muscle shirt", everyone keeps calling these abominations "under-armor", but i let the name stay. the style of my pants, though, never change: baggy and black, many people call these breesy, but ive always liked the fit. And like every other store i visit, like clockwork, the store manager timidly approaches me and asks that i take leave, i oblige.
Unsure of wwhere i am going or why, I take an old backstreet, one a young maiden would be too terrified to traverse at this time of night, and try to make sense of what had happened just thirty minutes ago. As the end of the street came into sight, i caught sight of an old friend of mine, waving to me at the end of the caldesac, his name was korugane, and this poor human was nearing his nineties. He wore a full goatee, hair whiter than snow, nearly transparent.
As i approached his hunched figure, he straightened up to meet my gaze. he waved me over, with the exuberance of a teenager- he had something importantto show me. "sam, while i was looking through some of my old belongings, i found a few things i want to show you", he was very giddy, bouncing around so much i thought he was going to hurt himself. to keep his old bones in one peice, i follower him into his house, and sat on the couch in his living room. kurogane dissappeared into his room for a minute, and came out holding an old chest. he opened the box, and picked up an old peice of wood. "look sam, it my old dagger, i thought i lost it long ago. he held it forth, and i took it in both hands. it was amazing that something made out of silver could be degraded so much; the whole thing felt like an old pice of wood, rice paper almost. but lo ad behold, as i handed it back, i pulled out my own dagger- the similarities were nearly exact- ther was gold inlaid in the exact same spots as mine were, only his was around the entire blade, as mine was only around the hilt. korugane launched into a story about all the things the blade had cut, and something suddenly felt wierd, really strange. I felt like i had this exact conversation before, but not in any of the years ive known him. i stood up, and apologized for my rudeness, but i was having a terrible episode of deja vu. i stepped out the door, and if my faded memory was correct, i was in for one hell of a night.