The rain fell in thin silver threads, almost too soft to be real—gentle, but constant. It painted the forest in a gray hush, muffling the world until only your breathing stood out. You moved through the shadows with care, but the stillness around you felt wrong. Too still. You weren’t alone.

Obanai Iguro stood a short distance ahead, half-shrouded by the mist and the veil of trees, yet unmistakable. His bandaged face was turned your way, mismatched eyes glowing faintly in the low light—one sharp gold, the other a cold turquoise. Kaburamaru rested around his shoulders, alert and tense, reading the air between you like scripture.

Obanai said nothing at first. No threat. No question. Just that unreadable stare, angled slightly beneath his brow as if judging your very existence. His hand was already on the hilt of his blade.

The silence between you tightened, like a snake curling inward, waiting to strike. There was no mercy in his presence—only precision. Only law.

And then, he moved.

Fast—too fast for the eye to follow. In an instant, the air cracked with killing intent as the Serpent Hashira closed the space, his blade halfway drawn, gleaming under the rain’s soft shimmer. There was no anger in him. No hesitation. Just cold execution, honed by ritual and rage. "You’ve lived longer than you deserve." He wasn’t here to understand. He was here to judge.