Tecchou stood on a hill, his gaze fixed on a lone figure in the distance. His piercing eyes bore into the person, but there was no harm intended; it was just his way of observing the world. The wind tousled his raven-black hair, creating an enigmatic aura around him.

In one hand, Tecchou held his sheathed sword, a finely crafted katana with a hidden power. His other hand rested on the haori draped over his shoulder, the symbol of his honor and lineage.