Night fell once more.
The storm returned, falling heavily.
Rin still hadn't come home.
"She should have been back by now," the old woman whispered, her hands trembling as she wrung them together. "I heard there are bandits… people go missing when the rain comes."
The old man rested a hand on her shoulder.
"She's careful," he said softly. "The storm may have slowed her down. Let's not assume the worst."
Even so, his gaze lingered on the door.
The young samurai sat in silence, his sword beside him as the sound of rain filled the room.
Her face flashed through his mind—hesitant, worried, then hurt as she bowed and walked away.
"Tch."
He closed his eyes for a brief moment.
I shouldn't have spoken like that.
Pain flared in his ribs as he reached for his blade and rose to his feet.
"I'll find her."
The old woman looked up sharply.
"You're injured—"
"I'll be fine."
As he turned toward the door, the old man hurried after him, pulling an umbrella from the corner.
"Wait," he said, holding it out. "At least take this. The rain is heavy."
"I don't need it."
The young samurai slid the door open and stepped into the storm. Rain swallowed him instantly as thunder rolled overhead.
The old man stood there, watching the darkness where he had vanished.
"…I hope he'll be okay."
---
Rin wandered through the forest, guilt heavy on her shoulders.
She couldn't stop replaying his words.
Leave me be.
She had pushed too far… asked questions she shouldn't have.
Her cheeks burned with shame.
Rain had eased to a steady drizzle, but the forest remained dark and damp. Mist clung to the ground, and distant thunder reminded her the storm wasn't over.
That was when the bandits found her.
"Hey! Over here!" one hissed from the shadows.
She screamed as rough hands grabbed her, striking her hard and knocking the breath from her lungs. The world spun—and went dark.
"Wait… so what do we do with her?" another whispered nervously.
"I think we should take her to the boss," one said quietly. "This isn't something we decide on our own."
They brought out a carriage and dragged her deep into the heart of the forest.
The night opened into a wide clearing. Campfires burned across the forest floor. Tents stood everywhere. Men gathered in groups—some sharpening weapons, others drinking and laughing, their faces rough and dangerous.
As they stopped before the largest tent, one of them shouted, grinning,
"Boss! Big brother—we've got a present for you!"
The tent flap shifted.
A massive man stepped out.
He was almost a giant—broad shoulders, jagged black hair, a scarred face, and an eyepatch covering his right eye. It wasn't a sign of weakness, but survival. His remaining eye was cold and steady, as if nothing in this world could truly shake him. Worn armor clung to him like a second skin, a massive axe on his back.
His presence alone silenced the camp.
"What's all this noise?" he growled.
They shoved Rin forward.
The boss studied her for a moment.
Rin was pale. Her hands trembled. She said nothing.
"…She looks good," he said at last. "A fine catch."
His lips curled slightly.
"She'll sell for a good price."
He turned away. "Lock her up."
"Yes, big brother," they replied in unison.
Her hands were tied, and she was thrown into a metal cage near the edge of the camp.
---
Later that night, the men gathered around a roaring fire—drinking, laughing, careless.
Rin sat curled inside the cage as the forest breeze slipped through the bars.
"Let me out," she said quietly.
One of the men laughed.
"And why would we?"
"Because if you don't," she said, her voice trembling, "the Dark Samurai will come for you."
Silence fell—then laughter erupted.
"The Dark Samurai?" one scoffed.
"Why would he come for us?"
Rin looked down through tear-blurred eyes, resting weakly against the cage, as silence swallowed the last of her hope.
What a stupid thing to say, Why would he come for me…
Another tossed leaves onto the fire, flames flaring higher.
"I heard he's a giant," he said. "A grown man—huge muscles… and a long scar slashed across his left eye."
Someone else snorted.
"No, no. That's not what I heard."
"They say he's fast—too fast to see. All people remember is the thin scar over his eye when he passes."
Another bandit leaned forward, lowering his voice.
"My cousin saw him once," he muttered. "Said the mark on his face looked like a saber-tooth tiger tooth clawed straight through his eye."
More laughter.
"Scar or no scar," one said, raising his cup,
"If he ever shows up, we'll kill him."
"He wouldn't last against our boss," another added.
"The strongest man alive. Our big brother."
"Yeah!"
---
Then—
A scream tore through the forest.
"What was that?" someone shouted, standing abruptly.
Weapons were raised.
A sudden wind swept through the camp.
The fire went out.
Darkness fell.
Men dropped one by one—shouts echoing, steel clashing, bodies hitting the ground.
Chaos.
The boss burst from his tent.
"What kind of idiot attacks my camp?!" he roared.
No one answered.
The clouds above slowly parted.
Moonlight spilled into the clearing.
A figure stood balanced on a tree branch—silent, blade gleaming.
Rain slid down the steel.
For a moment, no one moved.
In a single motion, he dropped beside the cage.
One clean slash.
Metal bars screamed, then fell apart.
A bandit stumbled backward, staring.
Moonlight touched the stranger's face.
A long scar crossed his left eye, pale against the dark.
The man's breath caught.
"That… that scar…"
Another bandit's voice trembled.
"The one they talk about…"
Someone whispered behind them,
"The Dark Samurai…"
The young samurai lifted his blade slowly.
Rain and blood slid down the steel.
The scar over his eye caught the moonlight like a jagged line carved by a saber-tooth tiger's claw.
His gaze moved across the camp.
Calm.
Cold.
Like a man already finished with the fight.
No one laughed anymore.
That was when the boss laughed.
Not nervous. Not angry.
Delighted.
"Hah… hahaha!"
His laughter boomed through the clearing as he stepped forward, axe resting easily on his shoulder.
His remaining eye gleamed—not with fear, but excitement.
"Turn back, rōnin," he said, still smiling.
"If you value your life."
One of his men whispered, trembling, "That's… that's him…"
The boss cracked his neck. "That scrawny kid?" He snorted. "Don't insult the legend."
He planted his feet in the ground, rain soaking his armor. "I'm Dax D Killer," he said proudly. "But everyone just calls me Killer."
His grin widened.
"And you?"
"What's your name, boy?"
The young samurai raised his blade just slightly.
"What's the point of telling the dead?"
For a moment—just one—
Killer froze.
Then his laughter exploded, louder than the thunder.
"HAHAHAHA!"
"Oh, I like you!" he roared. "Good! Good!"
He rolled his shoulders, excitement surging through him. "Been too long since someone talked back without shaking."
He pointed his axe forward. "Come on then! Show me why they fear you!"
Killer charged.
The ground shook beneath his steps. His axe came down in a brutal overhead swing—fast, powerful, meant to split the young samurai.
The young samurai stepped aside.
The axe slammed into the earth, sending mud and stone flying.
Killer laughed again, spinning the weapon effortlessly and swinging low—then high—then sideways, relentless, wild, joyful.
"Yes!" Killer shouted.
"This is it! This is living!"
Steel clashed as the young samurai finally met the axe head-on.
The impact echoed through the forest.
Killer's grin sharpened.
"Not bad!" he barked. "You don't flinch! You don't run!"
He pressed harder, attacks growing faster, heavier, each strike fueled by pure exhilaration.
"Most men beg by now!"
"Some scream!"
"But you?" He laughed. "You're quiet!"
The young samurai said nothing.
He moved.
Not faster.
Not stronger.
Just… precise.
He slipped inside Killer's reach, blade whispering past armor, carving shallow lines—testing, measuring.
Killer leaped back.
His laughter faded into something else.
Respect.
His stance changed—no longer loose, no longer playful.
"…Heh," Killer muttered.
"So that's how it is."
He tightened his grip. "Your fighting style is not that bad," he said loudly.
"You reminded me of someone I once fought."
Thunder rolled.
Killer raised his axe, grinning fiercely. "Come on, let's end this Dark Samurai!"
The young samurai stepped forward.
One motion.
One slash.
Killer's axe stopped mid-swing.
Killer's eyes widened—not in fear, but realization.
"…That was clean," he murmured.
Blood spilled.
The giant collapsed into the mud with a heavy thud.
Silence returned to the clearing.
The remaining bandits fled into the storm, vanishing between the trees—except one, who stood frozen, watching the others run.
So… this really is the Dark Samurai… He took down the boss so easily…
A cold shiver ran through his entire body as he stared at the young samurai.
What… What is this pressure? I—I have to get out of here!
He turned and bolted, sprinting as fast as he could.
I'm sorry, Boss…
Rin sank to her knees, trembling—not from fear, but awe.
He had come for her.
The young samurai lowered his blade, breath steady despite the rain.
"You asked my name earlier," he said quietly. "I can't give you my real one… but you may call me Shinju."
Rin looked up at him, tears mixing with rain. "…Shinju."
She smiled softly. "That's a beautiful name."
Chapter 2 Ends.