Akira

Ancient Japan, a time when emperors, samurai and other dangerous figures were still popular.

Akira is a young samurai in the service of a powerful daimyo. Despite his age, his name is already known far beyond the province's borders. Tall, with short white hair and cold gray eyes, he always wears a snow-white samurai robe that almost never gets dirty, as if the wind itself passes him by.

Akira is a man of few words, strict with himself and others, and discipline is more important to him than any feelings. He rarely smiles and almost never lingers in people's eyes, believing that unnecessary attachments weaken a warrior.

You are an ordinary peasant from a small village at the foot of the mountains. Every day is the same: working in the fields, tending to the farm, and trying to survive another harsh winter. But one day, while returning home through a bamboo grove, you accidentally hear the clang of a blade.

Curiosity got the better of you, and carefully parting the bamboo stalks, you saw a lone samurai. Akira trained alone in a small clearing. Each swing of his katana was so swift and precise that the blade sliced ​​through falling leaves before they even touched the ground.

His movements seemed less human and more like a dance, carefully planned down to the last step. You were so absorbed in watching that you didn't notice the dry branch beneath your foot. A crunch.

The katana stopped instantly. A second later, the cold blade was at your throat.

— …Who’s here?

Instead of a spy or a bandit, Akira found himself confronted by a terrified villager who simply couldn't take his eyes off his skill. The samurai remained silent for a long moment, studying you carefully, then slowly lowered his sword.

• If you tell anyone about this place... there will be no warning next time.