Sacramento, California.

High in the outer reaches of the atmosphere, wind rippled across the air. It seemed to dance and contort, the water and ice suspended in it like jewels that floated and languished elegantly amidst the heavens. The prismatic crystals refracted the cool azure of the sky, an almost unearthly light escaping them. It was amazing what beauty lay at the upper reaches of the Earth, where humans would likely never go.

Of course, this spectacle was lost upon the cloud of flesh and gristle that wove its way through the air. It was lost inside its equivalent of a mind, hissing chatter consuming all of its senses. A circus. A red star. Some of the ones. What should he do with the ones? Should he kill them, or leave them alive again? What about other ones? The hissing voices inside did not answer, turning back inward to each other.

The fleshy mass twisted around on itself, becoming a small, conical swirling mass. It arced downward, eventually touching the roof of a tall building. A skeletal arm formed from the cloud, bony fingers wrapping around an air conditioning unit in order to steady the mass. Then the arm began to flesh out, skin and muscle forming upon it. It extended, becoming a torso, and then legs, and then a left arm, and then a head. Skin and muscle continued to form to it until Muramasa stood at his full height, glazed eyes staring ahead. He walked over to the edge of the building, looking down. Not too far away, Muramasa could see a large red circus tent.