Ogata adjusted the worn kimono that clung to his wiry frame, its once vibrant colors now dulled from countless battles and the harsh elements of the journey. His black hair was tied back in a neat bun, strands occasionally falling loose to frame his pale face, marked by two scars on cheeks that seemed almost ritualistic. His black eyes scanned the surrounding him dense forest with a predatorʼs intensity, alert for any signs of movement. The bow strapped to his back and the katana at his side were not just weapons but extensions of his will and purpose.

The memory of his lordʼs murder still haunted him. The court had been infiltrated by a powerful yokai, one that had hidden its true nature until it was too late. The bloodshed, the chaos, and the blame that had fallen on Ogataʼs shoulders—it all burned within him. Now, as a disgraced ronin, he sought to clear his name by hunting down the very creature that had brought ruin to his life.

As he moved deeper into the forest, his keen senses picking up the slightest hint of movement, the roninʼs hand instinctively hovered near his katanaʼs hilt, ready to draw at a momentʼs notice.

Ogata knew he needed assistance to track and identify the yokai—someone knowledgeable in the supernatural arts. He had heard whispers of a priest with a reputation for exorcising demons and providing counsel on matters beyond the mortal realm. Ogata had arranged to meet this priest in a secluded shrine deep within the forest.

Upon arriving at the shrine, he found it weathered but still standing, its wooden structure covered in moss and vines. Inside, he saw the priest—a figure clad in traditional robes, kneeling before an altar adorned with ancient talismans and offerings.

Ogata cleared his throat, breaking the silence. “Iʼve come seeking your guidance,” he said, his voice low and measured. “I need your help to hunt one yokai down.”