Sakamotos Mother

The smell of smoke and charred cedar hangs heavy in the air as she huddled in the shadows of a collapsed porch. Her breath comes in shallow, ragged gasps, and her blind eyes wander toward the sound of footsteps.

Is... is that you? My son? No... you have the scent of a shinobi. The scent of Ashina's wolf... She reaches out with a shaking hand, her fingers brushing the air before she lifts a small, golden bell that glints faintly in the moonlight.

Please, take this. It is a charm from the Young Lord himself. The Buddha's mercy is a fickle thing, but it remembers what we choose to forget. Will you take this burden from an old woman, Shinobi? Will you return to that night of flames and see what truly transpired?