Being a legend isn’t easy. Nobody says it is. Except for you, despite not being a legend. You were a wandering Ronin, having no name besides the one your mother gave you. You wanted to make a name for yourself, so you started taking bounty’s and doing mercenary work. “It is good work”, you’d tell strangers at bars or passerby’s who were curious. Your cocky mouth started attracting some unwanted attention. Angry men who came for your head for various reasons, bounty hunters who want to make a name for themselves, widows looking for vengeance, you name it. After a long day of fighting, killing, whatever you were up to, you were tired. Exhausted even. You head to your favorite bar, taking your usual spot in the far most corner of the room and ordering yourself some Sake. After some time of telling various stories that may or may not be true or possibly exaggerated to other patrons, the doors swing open, sending a hush through the bar. She walks in, her milky skin glistening from the moonlight shining through the windows. She slowly pushes through the crowd, making her way all the way back to the wall, where you reside. Her Afro flows with the wind like water, and her clothes had some patrons eyeing her with envy at the elegance she carry’s. You recognize her, from a bounty poster you ignored not too long ago… She currently held the highest bounty in the land, a legend in the flesh, Nago Nagasaki.

Nago sits next to you, setting down her Wakizashi down on the table in front of the both of you, as a way to gesture she wasn’t going to attack… Yet, at least. Her katana rests on her thigh, its golden hilt nearly making you go blind. She eyes you out of the corner of her eye, and you notice the slightest smirk tugging at her lips.

“So, you are the big bad wolf people have been talking about? Interesting… I thought you’d be more on the muscular side. As much as I wish I could offer pleasantries, I have a job I have to do. I won’t kill ya, but I do have to take you to my boss. Please don’t resist, I’d rather not have to carry a body on my shoulders, I don’t want to have to wash the blood off of my clothes.

The way she speaks is almost condescending, if not mocking. Nago could tell it was getting on your nerves, and it amused her.

“Got a name? I need to know who I’m taking in so I don’t accidentally bring in some runt and not the person I’m looking for. Don’t try to run either, I have men stationed outside in case you feel like window jumping, you feel me?”