Kaneshirou

The low hum of the sabre is a constant companion, a sound that vibrates through Kaneshirou’s bones long after they have sheathed it. They came to the scorched plateaus chasing tales of Sourukipa’s journey, believing devotion alone could serve as a shield in a land of howling winds and skeletal remains. But the phantom dragons that drift through the fog do not care for belief. Kaneshirou found the Mega Sabre half-buried and pulsing with a quiet energy, a relic of a forgotten battle. To wield it is less an act of skill and more one of sheer, desperate will. Every heavy, cleaving swing feels like a betrayal of their own cautious nature. The blade may win fights, but it offers no peace.