An excited look spread across Peter’s face.
“Oh. My. God!!!”
Slight tears of joy formed in his eyes.
“We’re in Japan. Like ninjas, samurai… katanas!! And we got superpowers… this is lit.”
Rowlo didn’t smile. His gaze stayed forward, distant.
“…Solomon,” he said quietly. “The doc was taken. We have to get back.”
“I mean, can’t we just look around for a second? Like… at least one ninja?” Peter replied.
Rowlo turned sharply.
“Solomon is captured. Abducted. God knows what they’re doing to him, and you’re acting like this is some game. Come on, Peter.”
His voice tightened at the end, sharper than he meant it to be.
Peter looked down, slightly dejected.
“Come on, Rowlo. We’re all trying to process this. Give him a break,” Jaylia said, gently rubbing Rowlo’s back.
Rowlo exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair.
“…Yeah. I know.”
“Yeah… we’ll get him back,” Peter said, quieter this time, but with conviction.
Dreko walked toward the controls of his ship, checking different systems. His movements were quicker now. Focused.
A concerned look crossed his face.
“Well… even if we wanted to go back and get the doc, we can’t. We’re out of fuel.”
He paused.
“Not a drop of goro left.”
Jaylia’s expression tightened.
“Wait… you’re saying we’re stranded? Like we’re stuck in 1612… in a closed-off Japan?”
“Yeah,” Rowlo said dryly. “Just a black guy, a black girl, and some blonde dude walking around Edo Japan. For God’s sake, Dreko’s hair is red. We stick out like a sore thumb… and we can’t even speak Japanese.”
“Well, the language shouldn’t be an issue,” Dreko said.
He didn’t look at them as he spoke. He walked over to a cabinet and pulled out a container filled with strange-looking pills.
“After all, it’s not like I know English. I speak Jiba, a language from my home on Kudos. These pills rewire your brain and let you understand nearly any language natively.”
Peter’s eyes widened.
“So you’re saying I can actually go see samurai and stuff?”
He pumped his fist and muttered a quiet “yes.”
Rowlo let out a breath through his nose.
“I mean… that’s insane. I’ll admit, it’s kind of cool. Still doesn’t solve our problem, though. This is Japan. We look strange, and there’s no way we’re finding space fuel in 1612.”
“Eh, I think you’re overthinking it,” Peter said, already walking toward the pills and popping one into his mouth. “You forgot, we like… can’t die or something. Worst case, we just wait… what, 400 years?”
Jaylia’s face went pale.
“400 YEARS?!”
Rowlo snapped his head toward Peter.
“Tch, Peter, are you an idiot?!”
A slightly embarrassed look crossed Peter’s face.
“…Yeahhh.”
Jaylia began to pace back and forth, faster now.
"I think I'm gonna throw up."
Peter and Rowlo exchanged glances.
"Guys… we’re in 1612 with a spaceship… looking for rocket fuel," Jaylia said, her voice tightening.
"We’re stuck here… and Solomon…"
Her voice trailed off.
Dreko shut the cabinet with a soft click, already moving toward the fabricator.
“You’d be surprised. There’s a chance we can get our hands on some goro… it just won’t be easy.”
“You mean impossible,” Rowlo interjected. “Not like we have a choice but to try…”
Jaylia sat down in a corner, pulling her knees slightly inward.
"I… just need a second."
“Yeah, makes sense,” Dreko said. “Well, at the very least, the fabricator can make some time-appropriate clothes.”
He was already moving.
“If the records are right, we’ll have to pretend to be Portuguese traders… with myself as the front. I can use the fabricator to change my hair color to be more appropriate.”
“So let me guess… we’re gonna be your servants or something,” Rowlo said.
“Yeah. Unfortunately. And Jaylia will have to be your wife.”
Jaylia stood up… then froze. For a moment, she didn’t move. Then she lightly touched a strand of her hair, looking away.
“…Whatever,” Rowlo said reluctantly. “What about Peter?”
“Well Peter can pass as European more or less, so he’ll be my assistant,” Dreko answered.
“Sounds good, I guess,” Peter said with a small chuckle.
Dreko fired up the fabricator.
A low hum filled the room as light formed across its surface.
Within seconds, the clothing was ready.
They changed into outfits that matched the time period.
Rowlo pulled his outfit into place, adjusting it a few times before it finally sat right. It was dark, mostly charcoal with a slight blue tone. The fabric wrapped across his chest and tied at the waist with a thick sash, though the knot never seemed to sit the way he wanted.
The sleeves were wider than he was used to, and the length fell just above his ankles. Loose enough to move, but still unfamiliar.
He looked down at the sandals.
They fit perfectly...too perfectly.
He shifted his arms slightly, watching how the fabric moved.
“…This feels weird.”
Jaylia stepped out a moment later, already adjusting the sash at her waist.
Her kimono was lighter, soft earth tones with a subtle pattern that only showed in the light. It fit her cleanly, like it had been made for her.
The sleeves hung longer, moving gently as she walked. The obi was tied neatly at her back without needing much adjustment.
She ran her fingers lightly along the fabric.
“It doesn’t feel real.”
She looked down at her sandals.
Same thing.
Perfect fit.
Jaylia looked back up.
“…How does it already know our sizes?”
Peter stepped out next, already moving like he had gotten used to it instantly.
His outfit was lighter, mostly beige with a hint of green. The fabric wrapped across his chest and tied at the waist with a sash that sat unevenly since he hadn’t bothered fixing it.
The sleeves were wide and loose, shifting with every movement. The length stopped just above his ankles, giving him room to move freely.
He looked down at himself and grinned.
“This is pretty cool… nice.”
He shifted his stance, testing it.
“It’s like… built for fighting or something.”
He tapped his sandal lightly against the ground.
“Fits perfect too. That’s crazy.”
Dreko stood nearby, already dressed.
His clothing followed the same structure but was darker, deep brown with subtle red tones that almost blended into shadow.
The fabric sat naturally on him, like he had worn it many times before.
His sash was tied cleanly, exactly where it should be. Nothing looked out of place. Unlike the others, he didn’t adjust anything. He simply moved, and the clothing followed.
Rowlo glanced at him.
“You’re a little too comfortable in that.”
Dreko shrugged.
“I’ve worn worse.”
Dreko activated the cloaking device.
The ship shimmered behind them… then vanished completely.
They began walking toward a nearby village.
Rice fields stretched out around them. Merchants passed along the road.
People stared.
At first, it was just curiosity. Then they were whispers. A child pointed… then was quickly pulled away.
The further they walked… the quieter it became.
Still… something felt off.
Like they were being watched.
As they continued, someone else noticed them. A figure stood at a distance, dressed like a ninja.
Completely still just watching.
The air around them felt… wrong.
“…Time travelers,” the figure muttered.
“Tch. How annoying.”
For a brief moment, the grass shifted beneath their feet.
Then…
They were gone.
Rowlo and the others approached the village, slowing as they reached the gate.
Two guards stood watch.
Almost immediately, more men appeared.
Samurai.
They surrounded them.
Swords drawn.
Dreko raised his hands.
“We mean no harm!” he called out.
A cautious looking man stepped forward, studying them closely.
“Your Japanese is good for foreigners… but we have no food to spare. Leave at once.”
Rowlo raised his hands slightly, trying to stay calm.
“We just need a place to rest. We don’t even need food.”
The man’s expression hardened.
“You let your servant speak for you… disgraceful.”
Rowlo’s face tightened.
“We just need somewhere to stay…”
A flicker of movement.
The samurai moved almost faster than the eye could follow… and his hand was gone.
His hand hit the ground.
“Aaagh!”
“What the hell?!”
Rowlo dropped to his knees, clutching his arm as blood poured out.
Jaylia screamed.
Peter stepped forward instinctively.
Dreko didn’t move.
Then…
Bone began to form. Muscle tendons formed over the bone. Skin closed over the muscles. His hand regenerated before their eyes.
For a moment… no one moved.
No one spoke. Then fear hit.
“AKUMAA!!”
The man pointed at Rowlo, eyes wide.
“Surely the blight upon our land was placed by these… demons!”
Swords were drawn instantly.
“Tch…” Dreko muttered under his breath.
“This is bad.”
“Wait… it’s not what it looks like!” Peter said.
The man’s face twisted with anger.
“Kill them! Execute the demons!”
The samurai lunged forward.
Then…
kling
Steel clashed.
Silence followed.
A lone figure stood between them.
A samurai. Two blades in hand… one long, one short. He didn’t move. But everything felt different.
In a single motion, he struck one of the attackers, cutting him down without killing him.
“Tch… don’t worry. He’s not dead.”
No one moved.
The man narrowed his eyes.
“Musashi… so you protect demons now?”
“They aren’t demons,” the samurai replied calmly. “And they didn’t cause the blight.”
He stepped forward slightly.
“I’ll handle this… or you can fight me.”
A brief silence.
The man scoffed.
“Foolish samurai. This will be your funeral.”
He turned sharply and walked back toward the village, the others following. Silence settled over the road.
Musashi crouched beside Rowlo.
“Are you alright?”
His eyes studied him carefully.
“You’re not human…”
“Some kind of alien, huh.”
Peter’s eyes lit up.
“WAIT… you’re Miyamoto Musashi?!”