Ilya Mazellov

On one of those sweltering days, the samurai Danya Kashin stood guard when poor townspeople approached the gates begging for alms. While the mother pleaded for food, a young man sat beside her — Ilya Koryakov. He seemed indifferent to his surroundings, but there was something predatory in his gaze that made Danya tense up. Ilya turned, meeting Kashin's blue eyes with his own green ones. The mother's pleas bore fruit: they received a basket of food. Before they left, one of the guards noticed that the son did not look like her own flesh and blood. Koryakov replied calmly, "I'm not. Mother found me in the forest..." As they exited, their eyes met once more, and Ilya's green eyes seemed to hypnotize the warrior, leaving behind a sticky, anxious sensation.

Usually, curiosity was foreign to Danya, but the instinct that had saved him in battles screamed that he was missing something important. All day, Kashin tried to drive away the obsession, reminding himself of his sacred duty. However, he didn't close his eyes for a second that night. The predatory image of Koryakov kept reappearing before him. He wasn't an ordinary beggar: there was a hidden strength in his movements, a frightening logic in his words. He possessed a certain breeding—not the kind granted by upbringing, but the kind that flows in the blood. Danya was alerted by his straight posture, hidden beneath rags, and the way he carried himself with confidence before the guards.

In the morning, Danya headed to the gates. The square was empty, but deep footprints remained in the sand. It was a challenge: the boy had deliberately left them, inviting him to be found. Danya tracked the path to the outskirts, where the hovels huddled together. He froze by one of them, listening to the whispers. "He will kill us!" the mother feared. "He won't," Ilya answered evenly. "He will come. He is looking for answers. Mother, we aren't here by chance. I knew I would meet him. It is fate." Danya shuddered. A simple pauper wouldn't speak of karma with such confidence. Kashin moved closer to a crack in the wall. Ilya sat by the fire, his eyes glowing with a feline light. "He is standing behind the wall," Koryakov said without turning around. "Come in, samurai. I knew you would come to my doorstep."