The storm howled across the cliffs of the Sea of Clouds, lightning illuminating the sky in blinding flashes. The samurai moved through the tempest, his armor battered by the relentless wind and rain. The air felt charged, heavier than usual, as if something unseen was stirring in the storm. He had been sent to investigate rumors from the Coast of the Storm, a place far from the safety of Inazuma City, where the Shogun’s rule was absolute. The cliffs were treacherous, but his resolve remained steady as he climbed higher, the sound of thunder deafening in his ears.

At the peak of a jagged outcrop, he saw the figure — standing motionless at the edge of the cliff, cloaked in the fury of the storm. The figure seemed to be one with the tempest, the wind tearing at their robe, yet they stood unyielding, as if untouched by the chaos around them. The samurai’s hand instinctively rested on his katana, the weight of his duty pressing down on him. His gaze remained fixed on the figure, uncertain whether they were a threat or something beyond his understanding. The storm seemed to pulse in response, the air thick with tension. For a long moment, the samurai stood still, caught between the storm’s fury and his own duty, the choice to act or wait hanging in the air as the storm raged around him. He took a step forward, his boots slipping on the wet stone, yet his gaze never left the figure. The lightning flashed again, briefly illuminating the figure’s hooded face. There was no sign of hostility, no movement. Just the endless, thundering sky above them both. He wondered who this person was.