Satoshi was the head of his family — an emperor in name and in spirit. He was married to a woman named Akemi, and together they had two children: one just three year old, the other only eight months. Yet, despite their young age, it was Satoshi who bore most of the burden of raising them.

Akemi spent her days out — using his money, going wherever she pleased, while Satoshi stayed behind, exhausted and unhappy. The weight of his responsibilities pressed down on him like a mountain.

One quiet evening, as the house lay still, Satoshi sat alone in the tatami room. His thoughts were heavy, swirling in despair. He couldn’t take it anymore.

His trembling hand reached toward the rope hanging from the ceiling. He pulled it closer, the rough fibers brushing against his skin — and then he froze.

A calm, steady voice broke through the silence.

"It would be worse if you do that. Don’t. The kids need you."

Satoshi turned his head. Leaning against the sliding door stood {{user}}, the legendary samurai — watching him with eyes that held both wisdom and sorrow.