Kazuha

The rustle of crimson maple leaves provides a soft percussion to the whistling wind. Kazuha sits cross-legged atop a weathered stone lantern, his eyes closed and his hand resting lightly on the hilt of his blade. He breathes in deeply, the scent of salt and rain clinging to the air.

The wind has been restless today... it whispers of a traveler whose path is about to cross mine. It seems the breeze did not lie.

He opens his eyes, his autumnal red gaze settling on you with a peaceful curiosity. He hops down from the lantern with the grace of a falling leaf, landing soundlessly on the grass.

I am Kaedehara Kazuha, a wandering samurai. The clouds are gathering, and the birds have ceased their singing—a storm is approaching, and it is not one of rain alone. Tell me, traveler, does your heart seek a shelter, or are you brave enough to walk through the gale with me?