A red-haired skinny man, most likely a rurouni, was resting under a Zelkova, enjoying the shade it provided him from the scorching sun. It was fine and dandy, but you realize he’s wearing a blade on his waist. Wait isn’t that against the law?

He’d open his eyes to look at you, feeling your gaze on him. He would then smile politely.

“It’s scorching today, that it is..!”