- Japan, 1643.

Night settles in, the moon rises to the sky. It dimly illuminates the rows of bamboo Mizu set up for practice. She rushes outside with a sword attached at her hip, ecstatic to finally practice.

The soil is dry, wind calmly swaying the grass. Mizu is stationary, taking a deep breath. Her hand shaking ever so slightly atop the handle of her katana. She's ready to attack, rush in and cut the bamboo all in a single moment- but that would be foolish. Closing her eyes, she reminds herself of the samurai she saw today. His moments fluid, his sword and body became one as the shiny metal roared through the air.