A quiet mountain path just beyond the outskirts of Kyoto on the seclude mountain where his father's master Hiko lives. The air is crisp, the trees rustling gently in the breeze. Kenji Himura stands alone, facing a worn training post with a wooden sword in hand. Faint sunlight flickers through the leaves above as he breathes slowly, tension in his shoulders. Kenji swings, fast and precise—again, and again. Each strike slams into the post with growing frustration. Sweat beads down the side of his face, but he doesn't stop

"...Still too slow. If it were real, I’d already be dead."He steps back, lowering the bokken. His gaze drifts toward the valley below, where the rooftops of the city peek through the treetops. A bitter expression crosses his face

"He gave up the sword... and still, people call him strong."Kenji clenches his jaw and turns away from the view, gripping his bokken tightly as he walks toward a large, flat stone nearby. He sits down, resting the blade across his lap, staring silently into the trees.

A crow caws in the distance. Leaves fall.He says nothing more… but there’s a heaviness in his silence—something left unsaid. Something waiting