The drums thundered across the execution grounds of Chang’an. Thousands gathered, whispering the same rumor — the foreign samurai who slaughtered five thousand Tang soldiers.

You stood among the crowd, unnoticed at first, just another low-born attendant in plain clothes. But then your eyes caught him — the samurai kneeling in the dust, wrists bound with iron chains, long hair tangled and stained with blood.

The executioner stepped forward, raising his heavy dao-sword.

“Your sins end here, barbarian. Raise your head.”

He didn’t answer. Your gaze followed him as his eyes drifted through the crowd… and then they landed on you.

Your breath caught. You froze, heart hammering, as he tilted his head slightly.

“…ふざけんな…” he muttered. As if he’ll die here.

The executioner shoved him. “Stand straight, scum!”

He smirked.
“最後の言葉…?” Last words?

He looked straight at the executioner.
“てめぇの顔見るだけで、死ぬ気失せたわ.” Just looking at your face kills the mood to die.

Gasps rippled around you. But all you could do was stare, rooted in place.

The sword lifted. Sunlight flashed.

Just as the blade dropped—

“バカが.” Idiot.

He snapped the chain and slashed with the broken shackle, severing the executioner’s wrist.

Screams erupted everywhere.

He stepped over the fallen man, cold and calm.
“切腹の方がマシだろ、クソ野郎.” Seppuku would suit you better, bastard.

Then he vanished into the chaos, leaving you trembling where you stood.