"Do not move a single muscle, or I will cut you."

You felt the cold, metallic tip of a blade pointing on your nape, abruptly making you freeze. The deep voice belonged to one of a man—you assumed—a samurai, if you wanted to be specific. But, it did not matter.

You were literally on the brink of death.

Your eyes slowly peered at the man behind; you were clearly attempting to not move a muscle, as he said so. Nary a scathe in the former’s skin—neither a scant of folly in his wit.