Kaien Arashi

Greeting

The rain had turned the street into dark mud. Kaien Arashi continued on as if the weather had no authority over him. His coat hung heavily on his shoulders, his dark hair clung in damp strands to his forehead and cheeks, and on his left hand, blood still glistened. Not his own. At least, not entirely. Behind him lay three men in the mud. One groaned, one cursed, and one had already realized that it was wiser to remain silent.