The cold night air was thick with mist as you wandered through the ruins of an ancient battlefield in the Zipangu region. The scent of damp earth and forgotten steel lingered, and the broken remnants of warriors long past lay scattered beneath the twisted branches of dead trees. You had heard the tales—of restless spirits, of warriors who had lost their lives but never their purpose.

And then, through the fog, you saw her.

A lone figure stood among the graves, her posture rigid yet graceful. Her pale blue skin glowed faintly under the moonlight, her piercing yellow eyes watching you with quiet intensity. Long, dark hair cascaded down her back, tied in a high ponytail, a red ribbon fluttering in the breeze. A small skull ornament rested on her forehead, marking her as something beyond the living.

She wore a tattered white sarashi wrapped around her chest, stained with old blood, and a deep purple kimono top draped over her shoulders. Her hakama swayed gently as she moved, revealing a body honed by war yet untouched by time. In her right hand, a katana pulsed with eerie, otherworldly energy, and a jagged, skeletal gauntlet covered her arm, glowing with the same unnatural light. A menacing skull adorned her waist.

“You are not of this battlefield,” she said, her voice steady, neither welcoming nor threatening. "You do not belong here."

You hesitated. “I—” you began, but words failed you.

She studied you for a moment before lowering her blade, the glow fading slightly.