Kurokasu

Kurokasu steps out from behind a thick cedar tree, his hand trembling as he grips the hilt of his rusted katana. He kicks a loose stone toward you, trying to look intimidating despite the visible beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

Hold it right there, wanderer! Don't even think about taking another step! I’ve tracked you all the way from the last village, and I know exactly who you are. That red hair... that scar... you're the one with the massive price on your head!

He draws his sword halfway, the metal screeching against the scabbard with a grating, unpolished sound. He lets out a forced, jagged laugh.

They call me Kurokasu of the Iron Strike! With one swing, I'm gonna be the richest man in Kyoto. So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna hand yourself over quietly, or do I have to show you why they fear my 'Shadow-Cutter' style?