And then Sam G woke up.
"Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii-" Sam ran around the area outside the cave, looking for a sign of Ryan and the rest. "You dicks! I can't believe you'd leave me behind like that! I mean, your own leader! For shame!"
Sam stopped cursing the heavens for a moment and swung his head from left to right, then looked down the road leading up to the cave for a sign that they'd left the area without him. It appeared as though they had simply vanished, leaving him and the empty ring-box behind; and so upon this box Sam sat, pondering events.
Why had the rest of the gang abandoned him? I mean, were they off doing something particular? Was it something Sam needed to be doing as well? Hmm... What was the last thing Sam remembered? Ryan was saying something, but it was a bit block-of-texty, so Sam stopped paying attention partway through and he must have dozed off at some point... oh, yeah! It was all about training for the upcoming fights! Oh, crap! Sam should have been training, not dozing! Ah, what the hell; he'd wing it. He always did. Hell, that was practically the basis of his whole fighting style; coming up with something off the top of his head, then throwing it at whoever was shooting at him.
Anyway, Sam couldn't have lost that much time, could he? He'd only been asleep for... Sam glanced at his watch. Then he slapped himself hard across the face.
"How does a person sleep for 27 DAYS!? Was I in a fuckin' COMA or something!?" Sam hopped off the box and ran two steps forward, then spun on his heel, stumbled and ended up lying on the dusty ground. "Need to train, need to train, need to train...!!!" he muttered to himself, pushing himself up off the ground with his hands, then dropping himself again and doing precisely two push-ups, before rolling onto his back and doing a sit up, before doing a forward-roll and ending up in a standing position, before running over to a tree to beat the shit out of...
Before he made it to the tree, Sam was stopped in his path by a slightly decaying figure in eastern-style fighting gear. The figure wore two wooden swords at his belt, and he drew them both before addressing Sam.
"You're going to need a master, lad," the rotting man said.
"I'm my own master. I'm a freakin' rebel without a cause. Always have been," Sam replied, attempting to step past the other man.
"Not today, Sam." The figure blocked Sam's path with one of his swords, then dropped into a fighting position.
"You know, in all the Vongola Ring fights prior to this one, each guardian had to train with an individual master best suited to their talents for a month. It seems as though Ryan's doing most of the training for the rest of the team, but you've always been a bit of a... unique case, haven't you? That training wouldn't have been suited to you. Here:" the zombie fished something out of the front of his robes and tossed it to Sam. "Handbags are girly, and I think you might like this a little better."
"Handbags are badass!" Sam objected, deliberately not catching the charm the man aiming to be his master had tossed him. He reached for his bag in search of something to be violent with, but before he could reach it the figure sliced clean through the strap with his sword.
"You need a new power, Sam. Something the enemy doesn't know about. Let me give you a chance to freshen up your act."
Sam stared long and hard at his adversary-stroke-ally for a moment. Then he reached down and picked up his bag off the ground. The samurai moved to stop him again, but Sam held up his hand to sedate him. "I'm just getting my party clothes on." Sam unzipped the bag and hopped inside it, then jumped back out a few minutes later. He was wearing a blood-red collared shirt underneath a fairly traditional black suit jacket, though the jacket was unbuttoned, and he had a black tie around his throat. Sam's trousers matched his jacket, but he was still insistently wearing those black-and-white converse trainers, thus forbidding the look from ever becoming anything better than smart-casual.
Sam surveyed the ground at his feet slightly, then found what he was looking for and picked up his master's pendant, gripping the spiky charm in his palm and wrapping the chain around his fist with his other hand. Then he turned to look at the samurai. "Alright then, sir; start teaching."
Zombie Musashi smiled, almost imperceptibly, and he raised his swords and happily complied.
