Private Strike while the iron is... eh, you get it

Masami felt the magic affecting him before he could really react. He turned, intending to strike at Asteria despite the distance between them but found that the jab he made with his arm wouldn't extend beyond its length.

He couldn't connect with his Swallowtail Strike either. Couldn't feel the normal set up required for it. Whatever she'd done to him, he couldn't control his powers. Which unfortunately meant that he couldn't maintain his human facade any longer either.

Masami's form shifted against his will, becoming larger and more obviously metallic. When the transformation finished, he was a large suit of black samurai armor, ordained word demonic imagery and covered in dozens of angry red eyes staring at his assailant.

His voice rang out hollow and bizarre, like he was echoing off of a series of metal tunnels.

"What do you want?"

Every word out of her mouth made Masami feel heavier and heavier. His old wielder really was that much of a petulant child then. She seemed to have him trapped here, and he would have a hell of a fight against her if he decided to take that route. He snorted though, black smoke blowing out of the nostrils of his fiendish looking mask. "Immortal is a precarious word when I am involved, Ms. Asteria. You may have sealed the most terrible of my enchantments, but I am not incapable of anything."

But he sat down, or rather knelt- the way he would have centuries ago when he was participating in his more formal duties in the service of the gods. "I was created to serve one of the gods in my home. His name might mean nothing to you, but roughly speaking he was the god charged with the calamities of warfare. And so I was created to serve that purpose. Every marauder who raped and pillaged during a war-induced famine. Every non-combatant cut down when a village was purged of 'rebels'. All of those were, in some fashion or another, my blade."

The empty, black eyes that covered the left half of his face and shoulder began to smolder and glow like embers in a fire. He kept his tone as even as he could, but there was an obvious disgust in his words. "I am the finest blade ever forged in heaven, and I was swung around like a branch in the hands of a child playing soldier when he's really just killing ants. I will not go back to slaughtering innocents when I am so much better than that."

"Now if you will kindly remove your seals, I really need a drink."

"I will not go back to him."

Masami spoke calmly. Slowly. He had no use for doing anything else. Getting angry wouldn't help him, and neither would pleading.

"I am just a personal trainer. I don't have anything I could offer you that he couldn't offer a million times over."

"So I can't really promise you anything. You can't die. I can't die. I guess we just live here now. Unless you've got an entire forge that can melt celestial steel in that bag."

"Call it a philosophical victory,", Masami replied almost immediately, an obvious hint of sarcasm in his voice. "I left my home because I could not stand what I was being used for. And killing my wielder would only serve to put every god in heaven at my throat. I would rather not be melted down and have my 'flaws' hammered out of me."

Standing up slowly, he towered over Asteria - or would have if they had been close to one another. But she still had a bit of a height advantage up on the boxing ring. But he also felt the magic that was binding him fade, and he promptly returned to his human form with a rough massage of his neck. "I appreciate it. I have alcohol, if you'd like some."

He didn't make any sudden moves, making his way in a slow shuffle over to the small room he used as an office. The glass door meant that Asteria could see him as he reached in and grabbed an unopened bottle of sake that was chilling in a small refrigerator beneath the counter.

"Warm or chilled," he asked, lazily shaking the bottle by its neck.

"Not all bounty hunters will be smart enough to try and disable me after paying me for a private training session. Plus, now I know he's sending people after me so I can be more vigilant. Call the cops, or something. But I also don't mind killing. I mean, it is what I was made for."

Masami slipped onto the edge of the ring, pouring a pair of cups of the cold alcohol. He took a conservative sip and sighed into the drink with an exasperated kind of weariness. "I don't really have a plan though. I kinda never did. I left and ended up here and I've just kind of... been existing. Somewhere along the line, I told myself that I was a worn out old antique that I guess I made it true."

"Sorry," he added, taking another sip of his drink. "You came here to bag a bounty. Not listen to an old sword complain about how he's past his prime. So what are we gonna do from here, hm? What capriciousness are you gonna subject me to now?"