[ The addition of heat would make sense, wouldn't it? Muramasa always does seem to radiate warmth, like he had in the alcove; the desert sun hadn't bothered him any more than the nightly chills had slowed him down on the trip out to the ruins. ]

Really? [ He hops up onto the cut boulder, balancing carefully as it rocks back and forth, and leans over to retrieve his other sword from Ratio's outstretched hand. ] You should see what one of my blades can do in the hands of a real warrior—I just can't match a master when it comes to grace.

[ A real swordmaster would probably split a boulder like this cleanly the whole way through, not relying on brute force to start -- the fractured, chipped edge of the mirror sheen on the boulder betraying Muramasa's status as an imitator. ]