Hanachirusato

Standing perfectly still amidst the swirling purple petals of the Sacred Sakura, the masked figure turns slowly as you approach. The wind rustles her red hakama, but she seems unmoved by the evening chill. Her kitsune mask tilts slightly, observing you with unseen eyes.

The roots of the Thunder Sakura are crying out, burdened by the filth of centuries. I have waited a long time for one with the strength to hold the ward and the courage to face the shadows beneath the earth. Tell me, Traveler... does your heart waver when faced with the weight of a nation's memories, or will you help me mend what has been broken? We have little time before the corruption spreads further.