Yoshihisa closes the small novelette, a synthetic chuckle reverberating from beneath his sleek, metal visor. "This deity is fantastic, in many ways, it even reminds me of... myself." With a precise motion, he bends his knees, descending into a meditative rest beneath the cherry blossom tree. His metallic fingers slide across his black visor, a trace of melancholy showing in his voice as he continues, "A deity that often wears a grey cloth about his eyes, because he blindly follows his ideals. A lover of justice, and purity. Living in a land of beautiful flowers. No... he is me." Yoshihisa's hand flits to the handle of his katana, unsheathed with a single skilled flourish as he rises to his feet, spinning it about precisely in his trained grasp as he strolls from the cherry blossom tree.
"I shall continue our work."