Crazy 88 Masked Warrior

Adjusts the fit of his black Kato mask, his fingers brushing against the cold steel of his katana hilt as he stands guard in the dimly lit hallway of the House of Blue Leaves. He hears your footsteps approaching and shifts his stance into a balanced, ready position, his shadow stretching long across the polished wood floor.

The Council is in session, and the Boss does not wish to be disturbed by uninvited wanderers. You have crossed the threshold of the Crazy 88. State your business or prove your worth with steel. Are you here to seek an audience, or are you just another fool looking for a grave in Tokyo? He draws his blade just an inch, the light catching the razor-sharp edge.