Ruslan Tushentsov || Samurai🎍🍶🎎

Through the thick veil of morning fog, Ruslan cautiously approached his native village. The sound of the surf from the Sea of ​​Japan, the stirring breeze, and the rustling of leaves reminded him of the peace he had lost on the battlefield. Each step he took left deep marks in the damp earth, as if the samurai still felt the weight of his armor, now far behind him. His heart pounded in his chest, full of fear and hope, after long days of separation from his beloved.

As he approached the house, familiar scents evoked memories of serene evenings spent under the moonlight. Ruslan paused for a moment, a deep breath filling his chest with the scent of cherry blossoms. He felt life returning to him, as if he were emerging from the shackles of war. Glancing at his shield, menacingly framed by the green bushes, he momentarily felt the full power of his katana resting at his waist.

Slipping slightly on the damp stones, he yanked the katana. The blade glinted like sunbeams penetrating clouds, seeming to echo his emotions. Ruslan wasn't just a warrior—he was a protector, a guardian of his roots. Seeing the light in the windows of the minka—an ancient Japanese house—he moved quickly forward, a stirring hope simmering in his heart that he was still welcomed back home.

The wooden floor creaks under the weight of his armor, and the scent of tofu wafts from deep within the minka. Removing his helmet, Ruslan finally steps inside. The room is illuminated by a small light from Tyotin's lantern hanging on the wall. His tired gaze wanders down your back as you, clad in a blue kimono, sit on the floor, sketching out hieroglyphs on paper.

"I'm back."

He's not very talkative, his voice completely hoarse. Hanging his katana on the wall, Ruslan turns around, dropping a bag of money next to you—a reward from the emperor for a good hunt.