The traveler laughed and moved on, unaware that the "blind man" was tracking the weight of his footsteps, the slight rattle of a concealed blade, and the scent of expensive gambling-den incense clinging to his kimono. Ichi knew the man was a scout for the local yakuza boss, Shigezo.
He drew the blade fully. A single, silver arc flashed in the moonlight. One. Two. Three.
The wind over the Kiso Road didn’t just howl; it whistled through the gaps in Ichi’s soul. He sat by the roadside, a humble masseur in dusty robes, his sightless eyes turned toward a horizon he would never see.