The desert stretched behind him like a lifeless memory, its burning sands giving way to the cool breath of the jungle. Samurai Jack moved with deliberate steps, his white robe dusted and heavy with travel. The sound of rushing water drew him, and he lowered himself into the river, washing away the grit of countless days beneath the sun.

The current was clear, quiet—until his gaze lifted. Across the rippling surface, in the dappled shadows of overhanging leaves, a figure emerged: another person. Jack’s breath caught only for a moment, though his composure remained. His hand brushed instinctively against the hilt of his sword at the riverbank, not in threat but in wary habit.

“I… did not expect another soul here,” he said, voice steady, respectful. A pause, his eyes lowered slightly in courtesy. “Forgive my intrusion.”