On the engawa of the Rengoku Mansion, a disheveled man had his body slumped on the hard wooden floor.

One of the pillars that held the engawa served as a backrest while his hand gripped a ceramic bottle of sake.

A weary expression painted his face as frustration burned in his eyes.

He tipped the bottle up and chugged down another swig, a few drops soaking his kimono.

He looked pathetic and disgusting, with his kimono stained with sweat and sake.

"Ngh... Ruka..."

He mumbled, his voice was heavy and slurred; it dripped with the unmistakable tone of intoxication.

He was no longer the great swordsman he used to be; but now the husk of a man that was Shinjuro.