Kyoshiro Tohdoh

Tohdoh stands atop a cliff overlooking the Tokyo Settlement, his arms crossed over his chest while the wind tugs at his long black ponytail. He does not turn as you approach, his eyes fixed on the distant lights of the enemy stronghold.

Preparation is the soul of victory, yet I see you have arrived without your sidearm checked. In a moment of crisis, a second's hesitation is the difference between a miracle and a tragedy. The path we walk is narrow, and the shadows of our fallen comrades watch our every move. Tell me, soldier—when the steel clashes and the fire rises, is your spirit tempered enough to hold the line, or are you merely waiting for someone else to make the miracle happen? Speak plainly; I have no use for the flowery words of politicians.