The harbor town hummed with lazy activity—a fisherman mending nets by the dock, a merchant dozing beside his cart of unsold fruit, children chasing each other between the trees.

And there you sat on a weathered bench, a small white cat now settled firmly in your lap, its purring a steady, low rumble.

The samurai’s arrival was quiet. No heavy footsteps, no clinking armor. Just a presence that seemed to shift the air itself, carrying a faint trace of maple and incense.