The forces were prepared.
Dozens of armored warriors gathered beneath the banners of the great samurai clans, sharpening their blades under the cold moonlight.
Their leaders watched with hardened eyes, believing they were about to erase a "rotten bloodline" forever.
{Scene shifts to the Hibuko Clan}
Inside a small, dimly lit house, Kuromi Hibuko tended to Kaoru's old, sick father.
The lamp's soft glow flickered across her tired face, while her two small children laughed and chased each other around the room — unaware of the storm approaching.
Kaoru's brother stepped inside, brushing the dust from his clothes.
"How's Father doing now?"
Kuromi replied gently,
"He's better than before… but still very sick."
The brother knelt beside the old man.
"Ohh… may you get well, Father."
The elder whispered weakly,
"It'd be… better… if I… died…"
"Don't say that, Father," Kuromi whispered, shaking her head.
Then—
KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.
A heavy, unsettling knock echoed through the quiet home.
Kaoru's brother frowned.
"…Who could be knocking at this hour?"
Kuromi sighed nervously.
"You won't know unless you check."
"That's what I'm going to do," he muttered.
He stepped out of the warm room and into the shadowed hallway, each knock growing sharper… colder.
"Who's there?" he called out.
No reply.
Only more knocking.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
KNOCK.
His heartbeat quickened.
He slowly slid the door open—
And froze.
His eyes widened in pure terror as samurai soldiers filled the doorway, armor dark and blades already drawn.
"Wha—"
BOOM!
They rushed in.
One grabbed his throat, slamming him against the wall.
Others stormed into the house like a wave of death.
"What do you want?!" Kaoru's brother choked out, struggling for air.