The light of the full moon reflected across the side of his blade as it swept deceptively slowly. The edges were stained with blood, the sword itself still warm from the desert sun. It left a trail of droplets in its wake; a crimson tail to mark its passage.

Steel met steel under the watchful eyes of the moon. The sand under his feet threatened to make him lose his footing. The grip of his sword was soaked with sweat. They met again in a whirling storm of metal. Block, slash, parry, dodge and strike. Again, they spun away from the other. Two samurai locked in combat.

Samurai Jack had to fight the urge to wipe the sweat from his brow. His eyes were narrowed as he locked them with those of his Afro-haired enemy. His sword glinted faintly, its divine origin betrayed in the moonlight. Upon his foe's forehead, the headband which he needed.

They traded not a word. They didn't need to. So skilled in the ways of the blade that it was like another language. One spoken through strike and counter-strke. Through thrust and parry.

They met a third time in a trade of blows. This time Jack didn't play defence and surged forwards; stining with the tip of his blade. The Afro-Demon wove his defence well. Jack felt a stab of frustration, but it was only a minor one. This man, this demon was a mighty foe. When he'd first heard tale of a fellow samurai he'd barely believed it. Especially with the tails of bloody slaughter that he left in his wake. But now he could believe it, oh yes.

And he was going to put an end to it.

Despite the pain of his overused muscles, his grip on the handle of his blade was sure. The dark-skinned warrior was fast, but he'd overcommitted to the last strike; couldn't drew back fast enough. Jack rose and his blade made an audible sound, glinting pale blue in the moon light as Jack launched himself at the enemy. The man back-peddled, knowing when not to push his luck as Jack hammered in with a series of rapid jabs - not meant to kill, but to tire, draw blood and to weaken. They were fended off with expert skill and Jack found his respect for this new-found Samurai growing by the moment.

Respect didn't mean like. For even as he found his respect growing for the man's skills, his disgust also grew with the way he had acted. This power, this skill. Turned to a good purpose they could have done wonders.

The other samurai circled, the brief activity staled for now. There was silence save for their ragged breathing. Jack kept a firm grip on his sword, locking eyes onto the headband which was his ticket home.

They fought again. Swords like lightning, moving so fast that to the average eye they could not be seen at all. Slash, strike, dodge. Jack tumbled to the ground and rolled as an underhanded slash threatened to rip his chest in two.

Afro tried to recover, but Jack was faster and his blade tore open a gash across the man's chest to join the multiple others that already wept blood across his body. Nether samurai was exactly unharmed now.

Jack lunged forwards and swept for the man's neck. Afro ducked under the attack, his sword was too far away but his fist wasn't. With a single blow to the chest, the white-cloaked samurai was sent spinning away. Afro chased him. His sword leapt for the man's back but Jack regained control and countered with a slash to the side. Afro broke his run just in time, a spray of blood hit the sand.

The two samurai locked eyes again.

It was a warm day when Jack first stumbled onto the legend of the Headbands. He had stopped over at a small town on the edge of a desert – about as far from Aku's reign as it was possible to be while still technically being within it. It was a hub of bounty-hunters, thieves and smugglers.

Striding through the sand-swept streets, he ignored the looks he was getting. He was well used to it by now; with his white robes, his immaculate hair and his legendary sword, it didn't take much to figure out just who he was. Legends of his travels had seemed to spread through the length and breadth of Aku's dominion.

Of course, this also meant that he had to be careful not to be ambushed by some opportunistic bunter hunter. It'd happened before, but always his skills and sword had been enough to free him. Last few times, he'd had no trouble. Maybe the message was finally getting through.

Even as he thought this, he caught a movement from the corner of his sight. Someone was reaching for a sword, but before he could draw a hand stopped him. An old man had laid his hand across the blade. The would-be attacker glanced at him and he shook his head. With a frown, the man let go of the blade.

Jack paid them no more heed.

He needed to find a likely looking tavern. Places like this tended to have a certain type who would frequent such locations. There, he could fish for information about rumours of time travel and Aku's dealings. Then he'd know where to go next on his never-ending quest.

Selecting one such building, he pushed aside the wooden door and strode into the musky darkness. The low murmur of whispered voices reached his well-trained ears. The clinking of glasses, the rancid smell of drink. He wrinkled his nose, but walked up to the counter anyway.

The barman - -a humanoid being, covered in green scales leered at him, displaying double rows of razor-sharp teeth. There was no weapon in sight, but Jack had no doubt that there would be one close to hand.

" What's yer poison, warrior?" He asked.

" Just water," Jack said. It was his usual order in places like this. An unusual one to be sure, but it was hardly as though he was particularly suited to blending in in any case. Besides, drink clouded the senses and at any moment he might be called upon to do battle.

The barman looked him up and down. Perhaps wondering what kind of man would order water in a tavern. Eventually, he decided that he just didn't care and brought forth a sparkling glass of the stuff. It was expensive; so close to the desert water didn't come cheap. Jack paid him and slipped off into the crowd.

With well-practised eyes, he scanned the tables, looking for one that was not crowded but was close enough to the centre to hear any of the rumours that often circulated in bars. Finding one to his liking, the samurai made his way to an empty table and settled down for a long wait.

The heavy and chaotic beat of the music that the future seemed to favour assaulted his ear. The samurai held no liking for it. There was no peace to be found within its notes. Not serenity. Just chaotic disharmony. A neat mirror of the future world which Aku had created in his absence.

Nursing his cool drink, he cast his eyes around the bar. Most of the costumers seemed to be locals, humans and humanoids wearing rough-made clothes suitable for workers. He relaxed slightly, he would have no trouble from this lot.

No sooner had he decided this than a man sat down at his table. For a second, his hand went to the grip of his sword. He relaxed it as he got a good look at the visitor. He was an old man, scarred and bald.

His head was shaven bald but he had a long white beard and his eye-brows were as white as the snow on a harsh winter. The man's face was criss-crossed with scars, some of them were quite deep. His left hand was bony and scarred, but but right one gleamed a dull bronze. Whirring as he moved, the man's body was covered by loose, dark robes. The man's eyes focused on Jack and for a brief second, Jack was tempted to revise his classification of the man as harmless. Those eyes burned. Burned with confidence and a surety that Jack had seen only in the mightiest of warriors, they were deep, not naturally, but artificially so. So full of belief and raw confidence that they seemed to stretch on forever.

" A Samurai?" The man said, his voice was full-toned, powerful; it was the kind of voice that could carry to the roof-tops of a crowded temple or church. Jack frowned, wondering why he had chosen that particular comparison but then it downed upon him that the age of the man, his shaven head and the way he carried himself, combined with the power of his voice made him seem almost like a priest or monk. Certainly someone who used his voice for a living, but the harmonics told of someone used to giving commands, Jack couldn't imagine that voice singing or selling food, but he could imagine it chanting in prayer... Yes, priest or monk seemed about right.

" You know of me?" Jack asked simply, keeping his tone neutral. If this was one of Aku's traps... but no, this didn't feel like one of the demon's mechanisations. Hadn't he been thinking of how his reputation was spreading only moments ago?

" I have heard of your legendary adventurers. "The man admitted "Though I also know of the Samurai. It was one of you that gave me these scars."

Jack carefully said nothing. He had met no other samurai since his trip to the future. None that he would call true samurai at least. A pretender to the name here and there, but no real samurai had survived. Aku had seen to that. As far as he knew, he was the last of his kind. Yet, he was curious. Perhaps the old man would say more.

"I came here to search for great warriors." the old man continued. "But never in my life did I dream that I might find you here. The legendary Samurai Jack. It is said that you seek a way to return to the past. In this, I am indeed fortunate. For I believe that I may have the answers that you seek."

" What do you know of me?" Jack asked, " And how can you help me if what you have said is true?"

" Allow me to explain," the bald man had said, " And please tolerate a short history lesson, it will aid you in understanding the things of which I speak.

Long ago, before Aku rose to power truly, the Gods of the world created a magical item. It is not known why or even how they did this, or why they then cast it into the mortal world but whatever its purpose, its power is unquestioned. This mystical item took the form of a headband embellished with a number one. It was said, that whoever held this Number One Headband had the powers of a God.

Imagine it, no force could stand against him, he could remake the world as he saw fit... and nothing, human, machine, or demon could stop him. No force could match him, no army defeat him and no barrier hold him. It was said that his powers were nigh limitless and that no man could stand against him. Save for one. You see, the Gods decided that the ultimate power afforded by the Number One Headband was too much for any one mortal to handle for a length of time, and so they created a twin, a Number Two Headband. Now Number Two had no powers of its own save that it allowed the wearer to challenge Number One on equal footing. The trick of course was that anyone could challenge for Number Two. And so; only the most powerful, skilled and ruthless warriors ever survived to claim the Number One. The Headband Wars raged across this world for countless years as armies and entire civilizations battled to control the Number One, and through it, the destiny of all. But then Aku came to power, and with his armies, he crushed the lands and soon the Headbands were forgotten as Aku's iron rule was imposed over all.

But the power afforded by the Number One was a threat to Aku, he realised it quickly and despatched minions to contain and, if possible, destroy the Headband. Myself and my brothers also realised the ramifications of this Headband and set off to gain this power for the cause of righteousness. In this, we failed, for you see the Headband Wars never truly ended, though they fell from public sight. The Number Two Headband was guarded by a man known only as the Afro Samurai - a mortal warrior who fights like a demon. He cut us down as we struggled and only I survived. As you can see, I didn't get out unscathed. He dispatched Aku's minions with the same ease. I knew that I had to defeat him if we were ever to gain the Number Two and through it, the Number One. So I spent many years searching for the most deadly warriors with a grudge against Aku. Many have I found, but only you, mighty Samurai, have the skills required to take on the Afro-Demon on equal footing and defeat him to lay claim to the Headband."

Jack pondered on this for several seconds in silence, if what this old man said was true, the Number One Headband could be his way home, or perhaps this legendary power could even aid him in defeating Aku? If the legends were true then it could certainly do damage to him if in the right hands. But could this old man be trusted? How much of this was just legend and how much was fact?

He needed to know more.

" This ''Afro-Samurai'' what do you know of him? Why does he fight? Why hasn't he fought Aku if he is as skilled as you say?"

The old man nodded "A good and worthy question, mighty Samurai. I expected no less from one of your intellect. The answers you seek are simple. Not much is known of the Afro-Demon. Only that he is a samurai of unmatched power and his skills are legend, that much I have witnessed for myself. He has no name, this Afro Samurai, no friends or comrades, he fights only for the glory of combat, or so they say. Je has no goal other than to kill, no reason to exist other than to inflict suffering on others. He has no reason to do battle with Aku, why would he? The two of them are very similar of personality."

Jack nodded, his mind turning, " So this, it is a Afro Samurai is a demon?"

" A demon of the soul in human form, a monster that no human should ever have to face, this creature, this demon perverts the very code of the Samurai to his own purposes and brings nought but death and destruction in his wake. And his ultimate goal is to kill, if he ever attains the Number One Headband, Aku will be the least of this world's problems. Better a thousand- no, a million years of Aku than one year under the blood-thirsty fist of the Afro Samurai."

" And this Headband is as powerful as you say? Could it be used to travel time or to defeat Aku."

" Most assuredly both," the man said.

" Then I will work with you," Jack decided.

" Excellent," the man said, "In all my years of travel, I have found only two others with the skills to fight the samurai. You make three. It is fortunate that I found you when I did; we were just preparing to head out and face the demon. With your help, we'll be able to bring him to justice at long last."

He turned to leave but Jack spoke quickly, " Wait, before we go, what am I to call you?"

The bald man grinned, his golden tooth gleamed in the light, " Me? You can call me Brother One."