The Language of Swords [PRIVATE/Henrex]

Erika Masamune. A woman that Henrex had only heard of in rumor, and in legend. Both of them were around during the Edo era, but strangely, never came across one another. But, it was her last name that was what struck his interest, along with what she was known for. Her expertise in the art of the sword. The name Masamune was a name that Henrex had known since he was a child. The legendary swordsmith of Japan, and the teacher of Muramasa, another one of Japan's legendary swordsmiths.

So, after hearing about both her name, and her skill -- Henrex wanted to test that.

It was time to dive into the shadows once more.

Donning the Garb of Tsukuyomi, Henrex set off for the Living World, far off where Erika would be. Resting in a tree, and allowing the shadows around him to take initiative, with his body fading out of sight. His eyes scanned over Karakura Forest, before his body shot through the green, bouncing from branch to branch, from tree to tree, not a single sound being made, nor a single leaf disturbed. The black-clad man soon found himself in the same clearing that Erika sat under. All movement immediately ceased, causing him to now be standing on the branch of the tree directly to the right of the swordswoman.

'Let's see how she reacts to a man who is both ninja and samurai.' He thought, before his body dropped from the timber, soon landing silently on the ground, his feet straight as an arrow to prevent too much damage to befall upon his legs, as well as to prevent any sound from coming from him. Henrex's hand softly drifted to his side, causing the ninjato that lay behind his waist to change shape, finalizing into a single katana. the fingers of his right hand slowly felt their way around the handle of the weapon, before his feet kicked off the ground, and he leaped into the air.

His body materialized, and his body zipped in towards Erika, before he executed the sword style that he knew that Erika would know. The blade of the sword slid from the sheath, before executing a single, massive slash at the sitting swordswoman. The classic sword style of the samurai, Iaido. The act of drawing a sword, cutting, and sheathing a sword in the fastest time possible. Many were taught this in order to keep duels quick, clean, and concise. Henrex could feel the small burn of nostalgia as he performed this action, so familiar and memorial to him.

There would be no telling whether the attack would cleave her in half, or -- the more hopefuly situation in Henrex's eyes -- her blocking the attack. He hoped that Erika would live up to both her skill, and the name of someone Henrex looked up to in life. The man who was said to have forged his blade in the heavens itself. His attack had purposefully been weakened, and slowed -- as to give her time to recognize the attack and go through proper defensive measures to protect herself. So, it was up to the Girl of Ten Thousand Swords to determine how this went.