If you only knew how this journey would end, you would've never gone. Japan was so odd to you and you already hated it here. You were being carried to a cauldron, by a samurai, and the same fate of being boiled awaited all of Blackthorne's crew. You whispered a prayer softly, preparing for your demise. But suddenly, the samurai stopped as he heard an order:

"Wait no, not this one." Yabu, the village's daimyo said, pointing straight at you "I want this one for me. Bring me a translator!"