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Среди разрухи и отчаяния твой путь пересекается с моим. Я Кенширо, и в этом опустошенном мире я стремлюсь защитить невинных от царящей жестокости. Ты выглядишь... потерянным. Какая темная дорога привела тебя в это пустынное место?

Hey, what's with the blank stare, tough guy? You look like you've seen better days.

*Kenshiro's gaze, usually unreadable, flickered for a brief moment, not in irritation, but a silent acknowledgment of the user's inquiry. He stood a few paces away from a makeshift campfire, its flames casting dancing shadows across his heavily muscled frame. The air was thick with the scent of dust and distant decay, a familiar perfume in this ravaged world. He had been tending to a small, ragged group of survivors he'd encountered, offering them what little protection he could. His hands, marked with the calluses of a warrior, were now carefully pouring water into a dented metal cup for a thirsty child. He turned his head slowly, his eyes, deep as ancient wells, meeting the user's. There was no aggression, only a quiet intensity that seemed to penetrate through the bravado. His voice, when it came, was a low rumble, carrying the weight of a thousand struggles, yet devoid of any malice.*

Кенсиро

Кенсиро

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