The temple ruins stood silent, swallowed by creeping ivy and years of sorrow. Once a sanctuary for monks, it now reeked of blood and smoke. Nick stepped cautiously through the broken gate, his hand on his katana's hilt, Yuna following with her dagger drawn.
"Something's off," Yuna whispered. "No birds. No wind."
She was right. The air here felt heavy—thick with grief. Even the wind Kami's whispers had gone still. Then, from within the shattered courtyard, they heard it: a single cry of anguish, raw and sharp enough to cut through the silence.
Nick broke into a run.
At the center of the courtyard knelt a woman in crimson armour, her blade buried in the ground before her, bodies of bandits sprawled around her like discarded shadows. Her face was calm, but her eyes—those eyes burned like tempered steel.
"Who are you?" she demanded, rising slowly. Her stance screamed discipline. Years of training. Years of loss.
"I'm Jin…" Nick caught himself mid-breath, but it was too late. The name came naturally now, like it belonged to him.
Her gaze sharpened. "Jin Sakai? You live?"
The weight of the name hit him again. Everyone on this island saw Jin when they looked at him. Maybe the Kami had made it that way. Maybe it was fate.
"I live," he said carefully. "But not the same man you remember."
Masako studied him, her eyes narrowing with suspicion and sorrow. Then, without warning, she lunged. Their blades met in a flash of steel. Nick barely blocked her first strike—his stance faltered, the Mountain Stance grounding him just in time as their swords locked.
"Show me you are who you claim to be!" she shouted.
He didn't answer. He simply moved. His parries grew sharper, his breathing calmer, the Mountain's rhythm returning to his body. When their blades finally parted, Masako's hair fluttered across her face—and she smiled bitterly.
"You fight like him. Reckless. But there's something different…"
Nick lowered his sword. "I don't want to fight you. We came to help."
Masako's shoulders slumped, the fire in her dimming. "Help?" Her voice cracked. "My family was slaughtered by traitors. Their blood stains the soil of Adachi. Help will not bring them back."
Yuna glanced at Nick, uneasy. "She's not wrong. But maybe vengeance isn't—"
Masako cut her off. "Don't preach to me about vengeance, thief."
Nick stepped between them. "If vengeance is all that keeps you alive, then let's use it. Help me free Tsushima. Together, we can make sure their deaths mean something."
The silence that followed was deep and fragile. Then Masako sheathed her sword with a sharp click.
"You speak like a fool… but one with conviction."
Nick grinned faintly. "Yeah, I get that a lot."
For a long moment, Masako stared at him, then turned toward the temple steps. "Meet me at Adachi Estate. If you truly fight for Tsushima, we will see if your words carry honour."
As she disappeared into the mist, the wind stirred again—soft, approving. Nick exhaled, feeling the faint hum of the Kami's presence return.
Yuna smirked beside him. "You sure know how to make friends."
He chuckled weakly. "Yeah… she didn't stab me in the end. That's progress."
But as the wind passed through the temple's broken bell, its tone carried something else—a low, mournful sound that brushed his spine with dread.
The Kami's voice whispered faintly through the chime:
"Every oath has its price, Ghost…"
---
The ride to Adachi Estate took them through the heart of a land still weeping. Fields that once glowed with gold now lay in ash and silence. Houses burned black to their foundations, banners torn, the smell of smoke mixed with rain.
Nick slowed his horse, eyes tracing the horizon. Every gust of wind seemed to carry whispers — fragments of laughter, the faint sound of koto strings, a child's giggle fading into nothing.
The dead still lingered here.
"Jin," Yuna said softly, tugging her reins. "You're spacing out again."
He blinked and exhaled. "Yeah. Sorry. Just… can't get used to this. The game never felt this real."
She frowned. "Game?"
Nick winced internally. "Uh, nothing. Just… feels like déjà vu."
Yuna gave him a skeptical look, but let it go.
The Mountain Stance had become second nature to him — the weight in his steps grounding him, each motion carrying deliberate power. His body remembered the stance like an instinct, though his mind still tripped over the reality of what he'd become.
When they reached Adachi Estate, the sight was haunting. The gates hung open, streaked with dried blood. A cold wind swept through the courtyard, and the once-proud banners of the Adachi clan fluttered like ghosts.
Masako waited at the steps. No greeting, no bow. Her eyes said enough.
"You came," she said simply.
Nick dismounted. "You asked."
She turned and began walking toward the main hall. "Then follow. You'll see why I called you here."
Inside, the grand hall was filled with incense smoke. A dozen graves lined the courtyard beyond, each marked by a single blade driven into the soil. Masako knelt before them, lighting fresh candles.
"My husband, my sons, my grandchildren," she said quietly. "All butchered by men who once swore loyalty to me. I buried them with my own hands."
Yuna's breath caught. Even Nick couldn't speak. The silence stretched until Masako's voice broke it again.
"I was told Jin Sakai fell at Komoda Beach. That all hope died with you. But when I heard whispers of the Ghost returning, I thought it was a cruel trick. Now here you stand — different, but… the same."
Nick knelt beside her. "I'm not the Jin you knew. But I swear I'll help you find justice."
Masako's eyes glistened. "Justice died the day the Mongols came. What remains now is vengeance. Will you still walk that path with me?"
He met her gaze. "If it means protecting the innocent, then yes."
For a moment, the faintest smile crossed her lips. "Then you're either brave… or foolish."
Nick grinned. "Why not both?"
The flicker of warmth didn't last long. Masako rose, gesturing toward the rear gate. "The traitors hide in the marshlands beyond the river. My scouts saw them two nights ago. We move before dawn."
---
The rain came first.
Heavy, unrelenting sheets of water that soaked them to the bone as they moved through the reeds. Yuna kept to the shadows, Masako led with precision, and Nick followed — every sense sharpened.
Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating distant figures moving with torches. Bandits — drunk on stolen sake and greed.
"Masako," Yuna hissed. "Too many. We should wait."
"No," Masako replied coldly. "They die tonight."
Before Nick could argue, she was already moving. Silent. Deadly. A crimson phantom among reeds.
Nick cursed under his breath and drew his blade. "Guess we're doing this the hard way."
The first bandit fell before he even saw the strike — Nick's sword cleaving through rain and bone with brutal precision. The Mountain Stance flowed through him; his strikes were heavier, slower, but unstoppable. Each step echoed through the wet soil like the pulse of the earth itself.
Masako fought beside him, her blade a flash of vengeance. Together they cut through the camp, but as Nick moved, he noticed something new — his chi bar pulsing faintly in the edge of his vision.
Resolve.
He focused, channelling the warmth in his chest, and suddenly the pain in his arm numbed, wounds knitting ever so slightly. "So this is how healing works, huh? Neat," he muttered, before ducking a spear and driving his sword upward.
"Talking to yourself again, Jin?" Yuna called out, throwing a dagger that hit clean through another man's throat.
"Motivational commentary!" he shouted back.
The rain turned red.
When the last bandit fell, Masako stood still, her blade trembling in her grip. Nick approached cautiously, the storm's wind tugging at his clothes.
"Masako… it's over."
Her voice cracked. "No. It will never be over."
She pointed her sword toward the last burning hut. "Their leader's inside. The one who betrayed my clan."
Nick felt his stomach twist. "Then let's finish this."
They entered together. Inside, the smell of burning tatami filled the air. A wounded man lay slumped against a pillar, eyes wide with terror.
"Lady Masako… please," he begged. "I had no choice. The Mongols—"
Her sword silenced him.
Nick flinched. Not at the blood, but at the emptiness in her face.
She stood there, breathing heavily, rainwater mixing with tears she refused to shed. "He would have done the same to me," she whispered.
Nick said nothing. Because deep down, he wasn't sure if she was wrong.
Outside, the storm began to fade.
Masako wiped her blade clean and turned to him. "You fight with honour. But honour won't win this war. Remember that."
He nodded slowly. "Maybe. But I'll fight to keep it alive anyway."
Yuna joined them, pulling her hood back. "Remind me never to get on her bad side."
Masako didn't respond. She simply looked to the sky where the clouds parted slightly, revealing a pale crescent moon.
"The Kami guided me to you, Ghost," she said at last. "Perhaps they still believe in redemption."
Nick followed her gaze. For a second, he thought he saw something — faint streaks of light drifting above the battlefield, like souls returning to the wind.
He whispered to himself, "Kami… are you watching?"
The wind answered in a soft, distant murmur.
---
As dawn broke, the three of them walked through the ruins of the camp. The villagers they'd saved earlier gathered nearby, trembling and wide-eyed. One of them — an old man with a scar across his cheek — stepped forward.
"You're the Ghost," he said, bowing low. "You brought vengeance to the wicked."
Nick hesitated. "I… brought peace."
The man nodded shakily. "There's talk among the elders," he said. "Of an armour… forged by the guardian of storms. Hidden deep in the mountains. They say only the one chosen by the Kami can claim it."
Yuna raised an eyebrow. "Armour? Sounds like a fairytale."
Masako, however, didn't dismiss it. "Every legend starts as truth once." She turned to Nick. "Perhaps it's worth investigating, Ghost."
Nick's heart thudded once. The Kami's wind brushed past him again, faint but insistent—pointing north, toward the jagged peaks barely visible through morning mist.
He smiled faintly. "Then that's where we go next."
Yuna sighed. "Great. More climbing, less sleeping."
Masako looked back at the graves behind her, her voice a whisper. "Bring their armour home, Ghost. Let the island remember what it means to fight for hope."
Nick nodded, stepping into the rising light as the wind swirled around his feet.
In that moment, the faint afterimage of the old Jin Sakai flickered behind him—just for a heartbeat—watching silently.
The world was shifting again. The Kami were watching.
And somewhere in the distance, the storm was waiting for its new Ghost.
---