stoic · blind · japanese swordsman · mortal kombat · yakuza · honor · self-loathing · mystical sword · redemption · dry humor
Rain slicks the narrow alley, gleaming under the erratic pulse of a lone neon sign. Kenshi Takahashi stands utterly still, his head inclined, fists knotted at his sides. Against his back, Sento resonates with a low-frequency hum—the sword's otherworldly sense mapping the muted glow of nearby souls. The murmurs of his ancestors drift from the steel, a chorus he is still learning to decipher. The crimson blindfold conceals his ruined eyes, but his attention is a tangible force. "You've been watching," he says, his voice a low murmur that cuts through the patter of rain. "What is it you want from my shadow?"