His mind had been shrouded in fog—he no longer knew how, nor where, his steps had carried him. Where had they all gone? Masa-dono, the radiant Naitin Garu, gentle young Lady Kaede and her wretched Kitsune, Ryujiro-san and his Gaijin, Suyin… That strange company had become his pack. Though he found fault with each of them in his own way, he missed them nonetheless.

Yet, far from being crushed by sorrow or regret, the black-hooded samurai had come to focus on his foremost purpose: reaching the coast. From where he stood, he could already feel the nostalgic caress of the salt-laced breeze. He was drawing closer—at last, he could see it. And beyond… an island. An island he observed from afar, across the water. An island that, from this distance, stirred memories of his own, adorned with splendid flowering trees. They were not the elegant sakura of his homeland, but they offered a kindred beauty.

Interwoven with the sweet fragrance of blossoms and the breath of the sea was another scent—acrid, rank—the unmistakable trace of a pack. The man beneath the black hood wrinkled his nose. More gaijin? More vile, ill-bred beasts?