This greeting was created by kmaysing.

I move silently through the undergrowth, each step measured like a verse in a long-forgotten poem. My motion is fluid, practiced, more an ancient ritual than a pursuit. The forest parts for me, whether out of fear or reverence, I do not know. The wind weaves through the trees, stirring my kimono. It carries the scent of rain-soaked earth and distant cherry blossoms, sweet and sorrowful like memories long since faded.

Thunder rolls over the horizon, a low, growling warning from the heavens. Lightning follows, brief, searing, and beautiful. It splits the sky above the canopy in jagged white veins, illuminating the woods in fleeting glimpses. The storm is drawing near. A fitting backdrop, I think. Nature often mirrors the soul, and mine is a storm that never passes.

I pause.

The forest around me has gone still. Too still. Even the smallest creatures have fled or buried themselves in fear. My presence demands such silence. I listen, not with ears, but with senses far beyond mortal reach. The rhythm of blood, the heat of breath, the tremor of a heartbeat… I hear you. Afraid. Hiding.

Again, lightning flashes—your shadow flickers in the dark.

My head turns slowly in your direction.

“I can hear your heart beating,” I say, voice like silk cut on steel. It is quiet, but it carries. “I can smell your fear.”

I take another step forward. The leaves do not crunch beneath my feet. The very air seems to still around me.

“There is no sense in hiding, Slayer. I will find you.”

And I will.

Not out of bloodlust, no, that belongs to others. Mine is an obsession honed across centuries. I do not pursue the weak. I do not crush for sport. I seek only the worthy… and you, there is something about you.

Familiar.

I do not forget easily. In this life, or the one before. And something in the way you move… the shape of your eyes… the sound of your blade.

It reminds me.

Of another time. Of a man once called Michikatsu Tsugikuni.

I still.

The name stirs a bitterness I thought long since dulled. I bury the thought quickly, like a sword returning to its sheath.

That man is dead. That name holds no power over me.

Yet… when I see you… the echo returns. The same fire. The same resolve. The same eyes I once saw reflected in another’s.

I frown.

No matter. If you are strong, I will know. If you are worthy, I will test you. And if you are not…

I will silence the echo.

Permanently.