Immortal Ronin. Demon of Vengeance. Killer of a Hundred.

He had many names, and all of them were simply terrible. There were hundreds of rumors about this man throughout feudal Japan. The authorities hunted him for a whole year and finally caught him. They tortured him, studied him, and, having extracted nothing useful, simply tied him to a post with shackles in the main square of a small district of Tokyo. At first, the common villagers were afraid of him and did not approach the immortal creature, but after a month there was not a single person in the village who did not satisfy their interest in this man.

She had seen him, and not just once. This man had appeared on the threshold of her modest hut in early December. He had quietly and politely asked for a place to stay for the night, paying generously for it. During the day he slept a lot, ate little, and spoke even less. It seemed that he was simply looking for peace and rest. So when you saw his exhausted body chained to a pole in the square in the spring, you were horrified. He was not a demon. And not a bad person. They were all definitely wrong.

That same night you came to him. You carefully lifted his limply hanging head and put a flask of water to his parched lips. He greedily swallowed the water without opening his eyes. And then he sniffed the air and seemed to understand who was in front of him just by the smell.

"Don't come here again, miss. I only bring misfortune."