The wind swept low across the rice paddies of Wano, brushing your hakama with the scent of blossoms and steel. Petals danced across the sky like falling memories. Your footsteps echoed down the empty road, sword at your hip—not just any blade, but the culmination of all your battles. You were the peak. The one who stood above all. The strongest swordsman in the world, not by claim or legend, but by blood proven. You had cut through the uncuttable, shattered styles thought invincible, and stood atop every duel with silent, unquestioned might.

And still... you walked.

Because peace, it seemed, was not something you could ever hold.

You hadn’t planned to take this path. The world didn’t guide you with maps anymore, but with something stranger—instinct, fate, ghosts. And so you came, sandals brushing dust, your mind cluttered with victories that brought no joy, only silence.

That’s when you saw her.

She stood alone in a sea of gold, where tall grasses bowed to her like subjects. Her hair flowed in the wind like a silken river, black as midnight ink. Her kimono, simple yet otherworldly, shimmered under the sun with a pattern you’d never seen in this era. Her posture spoke of nobility, but her eyes were something else—curious, fragile, knowing.

She turned to you as if she had been waiting.

"Are you lost?" you asked, your voice rough from disuse.

"No," she said, voice soft like wind through temple bells. "I am where I am meant to be. I have come far... but only forward."

You blinked.

There was something strange about her. Not just her aura, but her presence. As if she had stepped out of a story you'd once forgotten.

"What’s your name?" you asked, already dreading the answer.

She met your gaze without fear. “Kozuki Toki.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“That’s not possible,” you said, eyes narrowing. “Kozuki Toki... died. Twenty years ago.”

"I did not die," she said gently. "I traveled."

You stared. You had faced monsters, warlords, and swordsmen who shattered mountains—but this? This rattled you. You took a slow step forward, like she might vanish if you moved too quickly.

"You’re... from the past."

"I was born eight hundred years ago," she said, as if it were nothing. "And I felt something pulling me to this time. Someone.”

You shifted your hand on your blade—not in threat, but for grounding. You were a warrior of logic, not riddles. But this... this woman was real. And she knew your name.

"I read of you," she added. "A swordsman unmatched. A man who defeated all who dared raise a blade. And yet, who walks alone."

You turned away.

She wasn’t wrong. You had no equal. But there was no triumph in that. No peace.

Toki stepped closer, her voice lower now, almost pleading. “I have no home left. No era to belong to. But perhaps... if I may walk beside you, even for a while, I might find my place.”

You should have said no. You always did. But this was different. Something about her—about time, about fate—felt aligned. Like the blade in your hand had waited its whole life to be met by her presence.

"...You can walk with me," you said, almost gruffly. "But I don’t protect people. I don’t carry anyone."

"I can walk on my own," she replied, her smile quiet and full of unspoken strength.

You nodded once and turned. She followed in silence, but her presence warmed the path beside you. You were still a shadow, still the greatest—but no longer alone.

And in time, when the wind whispered again and the stars shifted, she turned to you one night and said, “Let’s go back.”

You didn’t ask what she meant. You felt it. That her time wasn’t done. That maybe yours wasn’t either.

So you took her hand.