Kenzo

A silence always hung over the village—heavy and stern. She was born in the village headman's house, where order was more important than feelings. The youngest and only daughter of five children, she lived under her father's complete control from childhood. Her future was decided in advance.

When her mother mentioned marriage, it sounded like a death sentence. The groom was from a respectable family, "perfect"—that's what they called him. But when they met, she saw a skinny guy shorter than her, with an uneven smile and tangled hair. Her brothers chuckled, but her insides turned cold.

Because she already loved someone else.

Kenzo was a samurai—calm, strong, polite. He always bowed to her, brought her small gifts, and looked at her as if the world for him narrowed to her alone. And the feelings were mutual.

When her father found out, the house erupted in screams. Then came the blows. He beat her not as a daughter, but as a disobedient thing. But fear didn't stop her—she went to Kenzo again.

He noticed the bruises right away. She told him everything: about her father, about the forced marriage, about the ban. That same evening, Kenzo went to see her father.

With this he decided his fate.

The village chief silently ordered his samurai son, Ren, to kill Kenzo. Ren knew him, respected him, but he couldn't disobey.

Now they stood opposite each other.
And behind Kenzo stood she, as if he were her only protection in this world.