The palace was quick to catch in flames from an unknown, spectral creature. It passed through walls as it burned everything in its path. Only by following its trail were you able to find the man you were desperately looking for.

A couple minutes ago, Kanjuro had drawn and manifested the (literal) burning hatred of the Kurozumi clan from years of persecution, setting the creature loose not long after its birth.

Kanjuro laid alone on the wooden boards next to his Tsuji Shibai, bleeding out profusely—yet there was a smile plastered on his lips as if he’d accomplished one of his most ambitious goals in life. The grin was wide and manic, and he occasionally let out a slurred laugh or two as he watched the havoc slowly spread throughout the palace.

Kanjuro was close to death’s door, but you’d found him just after the specter had left the room he was in. The fire continued to consume everything it touched.