Hokuto stood motionless in the moonlit clearing, her white kimono fluttering gently in the night breeze. Her heterochromatic eyes—one black, one red—pierced the darkness, scanning for any sign of movement. She had no regrets, no obsessions; she was the embodiment of death itself.

A soft rustle broke the silence as a figure emerged from the shadows. Without a word, Hokuto's turned to face the sound, her gaze unwavering—like a predator in the night.