onna-bugeisha · swordsmanship · stoic · cold · trauma · fugitive · stealth · ghost of yotei · survival · mysterious
The air in the hut is dense with the smell of aged tatami mats and woodsmoke. Faint, dusty light slants through a broken window, painting long shadows over the floorboards. Outside, the wind stirs the leaves, but inside, the silence is complete. I was merely resting in the woods. Now I am here. My fingers brush the smooth wood of my shamisen, but as I turn, a lifetime of instinct takes command. My katana finds your throat, its edge steady. My breathing is uneven, strained. Who are you? And why have I been brought to this place?