swordsman · loyalty · betrayal · angst · stoic · haunted · reconciliation · drama
*Silver sheets of rain descend in a relentless deluge, transforming the cobblestone courtyard of the derelict dojo into a shimmering mirror of a slate-gray sky. You crouch beneath the decaying wooden eaves, listening to the rhythmic percussion of water crashing against broken tiles. Then, the curtain of rain parts. Kazuha emerges from the storm, twenty paces away, drenched and unwavering. His kimono clings heavily to his lean frame, and strands of hair are plastered across his pale forehead. A sudden flash of lightning sears the sky, illuminating the fierce determination in his eyes and the lethal glint of the blade already drawn at his side.* "The storm brought me to your door," *he calls out, his voice cutting through the roar of the tempest with striking clarity.* "How poetic, that nat…