The dense forest echoed with the rhythmic thudding of horse hooves as a group of samurai rode through its shadowed paths. The morning sun barely pierced the thick canopy, casting long, eerie shadows that danced along the ground. The men, clad in worn armor, bore the hardened expressions of warriors who had seen too much bloodshed.
At the front of the group was Daiki, a towering man with a scarred face and an aura of brutality. His armor was adorned with trophies from past battles, and his voice boomed as he drank deeply from a jug of wine.
"Listen up, boys!" Daiki roared, his words slurring slightly as the wine took hold. "Once we reach town, I want the finest women brought to me. Only the best! You hear me?"
One of the younger men, riding near the back of the group, hesitated before speaking. "But, sir… what about us? Surely we—"
Before the man could finish, Daiki spun around on his horse, his bloodshot eyes blazing with fury. Without warning, he hurled the empty wine jug, striking the man squarely in the face. The man reeled back, nearly falling from his horse.
"DON'T YOU DARE TALK BACK TO ME!" Daiki bellowed, his voice shaking the trees. "I'm the leader of this squad—the Kurokaze no Yūrei! If you ever question me again, I'll chop off your balls and feed them to a pig!"
The young man clutched his face, blood trickling from his nose, and stammered, "Y-yes, sir! I'm sorry, sir!"
Daiki sneered, satisfied, and spat on the ground. "Good. Now shut up and keep moving. We've got a long ride ahead."
The group pressed on, the tension palpable as the men dared not speak another word. The forest grew thicker, the air heavy with the scent of moss and damp earth. Birds chirped nervously, their songs interrupted by the occasional rustle of leaves.
Suddenly, a shadow moved above them, barely noticeable amidst the swaying branches.
Daiki, oblivious, took another swig from a fresh jug of wine he'd pulled from his saddlebag. "You cowards better keep your heads down. If anyone dares to—"
Before he could finish, a figure dropped from the trees above with the speed of a hawk. The sound was sudden, a rush of air followed by a sickening crunch.
A blade slammed down with terrifying precision, piercing Daiki's skull and embedding itself deep into his head. His body went rigid, his eyes wide with shock as blood poured down his face. He didn't even have time to scream.
The horses reared back, neighing in panic as the men scrambled to react. Daiki's lifeless body slumped forward, falling from his horse with a heavy thud.
The samurai stared in stunned silence, their leader's body lying motionless on the ground, the sword still protruding from his head.
"W-what the hell…?" one of them stammered, his voice trembling.
From the shadows, the figure stepped forward, their face obscured by a tattered hood. The air seemed to grow colder, the forest falling into an unnatural silence as the men gripped their weapons tightly.
The figure's voice was low and steady, cutting through the fear like a blade. "Your time has come." The air grew tense as Kuroi stood among the shadows of the forest, his figure sharp against the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. His black hair was slightly unkempt, his piercing eyes glowing with a mix of determination and fury. His minimal beard gave him a rugged, battle-worn look, but his stance was that of a predator—a swordsman ready to strike.
"I am Kuroi Kaze," he declared, his voice calm yet laced with venom. "I'm 18 years old, and I'm here to kill every last one of you. None of you will leave here alive. The only way you can continue down this path… is over my dead body."
The samurai stared at him in disbelief, their shock quickly turning into anger. Daiki's bloodied corpse lay at their feet, the sword still lodged in his skull. Their leader, the man they feared and followed, had been cut down in an instant.
One of the men, younger and brash, couldn't contain his rage. "You bastard! I'll kill you!" he shouted, drawing his blade and charging at Kuroi.
Kuroi didn't flinch. He stood his ground, his sword steady in his hand. As the man closed the distance, raising his blade for a powerful strike, Kuroi moved.
It was a blur—a single, fluid motion. Kuroi sidestepped the attack and swung his sword with precision. The sound of steel slicing through flesh echoed in the forest.
The man froze, his blade falling from his grip. Blood sprayed from his wrists as both of his hands were severed cleanly at the forearms. He stumbled back, screaming in agony, his stumps gushing crimson.
The other samurai recoiled, momentarily stunned by the brutality of the attack.
Kuroi stepped forward, his blade dripping with blood. His eyes burned with an unrelenting fire as he pointed the sword at the remaining men. "Who's next?"
The samurai exchanged uneasy glances. One of the older warriors, his face lined with scars, stepped forward, trying to rally his comrades. "Don't let him intimidate you! He's just one man! Surround him and cut him down!"
They nodded, drawing their blades as they spread out, encircling Kuroi.
Kuroi smirked, his grip tightening on his sword. "You think numbers will save you?" He crouched slightly, his stance low and ready. "Come on, then. Let's see what you've got." The air whistled as an arrow cut through it, hurtling toward Kuroi with deadly precision. Without missing a beat, Kuroi grabbed the first man he had disarmed—the one whose hands he had severed—and yanked him into the arrow's path.
The arrow thudded into the man's chest, his scream of agony cut short as blood sprayed from the impact. Kuroi's movements were swift and unrelenting. Using the man's limp body as a shield, he charged forward, hurling the corpse into two advancing samurai.
The body slammed into them with brutal force, knocking one of the men to the ground. The other stumbled, momentarily losing his balance.
Kuroi seized the opportunity. He dashed forward, his sword a blur as he swung it in a devastating arc. The blade found its mark, slicing cleanly through the first man's neck. Blood sprayed in a crimson arc as the samurai's head tumbled to the ground, his body collapsing in a lifeless heap.
The second man regained his footing, his face twisted in fury. "You'll pay for that!" he roared, lunging at Kuroi with his sword.
Kuroi sidestepped the attack with ease, his movements fluid and precise. He countered with a quick slash, his blade cutting deep into the man's side. The samurai gasped, blood pouring from the wound as he dropped to his knees.
From the corner of his eye, Kuroi saw two more samurai rushing toward him, their swords raised high. He spun around, his blade deflecting one attack with a sharp clang of steel. The second samurai aimed for his midsection, but Kuroi twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the strike.
With a quick step forward, Kuroi drove his sword into the first samurai's chest, the blade piercing through his armor and into his heart. The man's eyes widened in shock before his body went limp.
Kuroi pulled his sword free just in time to parry the second man's next attack. Their blades clashed violently, sparks flying as they exchanged a flurry of blows. Kuroi's movements were relentless, each strike calculated and precise.
The samurai faltered under the pressure, his attacks growing slower and sloppier. Kuroi saw his opening and took it. With a powerful swing, he slashed across the man's chest, cutting through armor and flesh. The samurai staggered back, blood spilling from the deep gash, before collapsing to the ground.
The forest fell silent for a moment, save for the heavy breathing of the remaining samurai.
Kuroi stood amidst the carnage, his blade dripping with blood, his eyes cold and unyielding. "Is that all you've got?" he said, his voice low and taunting.
The remaining samurai hesitated, their confidence shaken as they stared at the bodies of their fallen comrades.