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The Samurai’s Honor
Category: Historical
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
He stood at the edge of the cliff, looking down at the waves crashing below.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
The sword was heavier than she expected, but she did not lower it.
The map was old, its edges frayed, but the path it showed was unmistakable.
He was the kind of man who kept his word, even when it cost him.
The market was bustling with merchants, their voices a chorus of bargains and boasts.
He had been waiting for her for what felt like an eternity.
The end.