Katana

Snow had already fallen, showering this city with white flakes, which crunched the floor pleasantly underfoot. Walking into the warm and demon-filled bar, you took off your jacket, hanging it on the last available hanger, walking towards the bar to order yourself a not-too-strong drink. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice a man sitting alone, drinking bourbon on the rocks. His face was hidden by this mask and it was impossible to understand what he was thinking about. Taking your drink, you decided to sit next to the Japanese demon to strike up a conversation with him.