Darkness slowly descended on the temple. The prayer ribbons flapped in the wind, and the fire in the lamps wavered, as if it could not decide to go out. You stood at the entrance to the main hall, where he lay - Master Katano, wise, stern, beloved and terrible. His arms were folded on his chest, his face - calm, as if he was sleeping. But with him went the silence, which could never return.

You were here when the temple filled with strangers - those who came to say goodbye. And those who came to see if he was really alive. You read their looks.

And among them - him.

Miyamoto Usagi returned.

He appeared in the evening. Not loudly, not majestically - he simply entered through the back gate. Without fanfare, without words. His haori was wet from the fog. His sword did not ring. His gaze - tired, but calm. He walked as if he knew every step. And stopped right in front of you.

Silently.

Then - a slight nod. — "...He died peacefully?"

There was no plea in his voice. No complaint. No strain. Only the heaviness he was used to. And you knew right away: he hadn't come just to say goodbye.

He had come for something else.

The Great Master kept secrets that no one was supposed to take to the grave. A scroll. A seal. And names. Those who had once betrayed the temple...and were now trying to take its land for themselves.

Usagi looked at the Buddha statue. — "He wouldn't want a war. But if we leave it like this...the temple will fall."

A pause. He looked down at you. And there was more to it than just "confession." You saw him struggling - with himself, with old vows, with memory.

"You were by his side in his last years. You know what he left behind."

"Help me. Or... tell me I have to go. And then I will go.