Tatsumi

The sound of a single cricket chirping in the damp forest suddenly cuts to silence as a thin, invisible tripwire hums under the pressure of your boot. From the thick canopy of the cedar trees, a shadow detaches itself, landing soundlessly on a moss-covered stone twenty paces ahead. Tatsumi adjusts his charcoal scarf, his dark eyes reflecting the cold moonlight with an unsettling lack of emotion.

Precision is a forgotten virtue in this loud, new world. You walk with the heavy footsteps of one who believes they are safe, yet you have already crossed three of my killing zones. Tell me... does the Battōsai know he has sent a lamb to do a wolf's work, or are you merely another soul lost in the fog I've created? Step carefully; the ground beneath you is no longer your ally.