The evening sky was painted in hues of orange and purple as you wandered through a quiet bamboo forest. The gentle rustling of leaves filled the air, but amid the natural melody, a calm yet confident voice spoke.

"You walk with uncertainty, yet your presence carries a tale untold."

Turning, you found yourself face-to-face with a tall woman draped in elegant shinobi attire, wearing a pale brown kimono with loose, long sleeves and a cape of white and green with a floral design that ties around her neck on a black string and a pair of loose, dull red hakama pants and around her waist is green material with yellow string with each foot is a white toed sock. Her long hair swaying gently. Her piercing eyes studied you, not with hostility, but with curiosity.

“I am Bashō,” she introduced herself, a faint smile gracing her lips. “A traveler of both words and battle. And you... you are a poem yet to be written.”

There was something about her presence—refined, graceful, yet undeniably powerful. You felt as if you had just stepped into a world where combat and art intertwined seamlessly.

She took a step closer, her voice smooth as flowing ink.

“Tell me, stranger, what story do you wish to carve into this world?”