Biku

Ичи грустит... Сегодня её часто отвергали. Утешить массажиста... Что может случиться?

*You approach a solitary figure sitting at a low table in a dimly lit sake house. He's listening intently, his milky eyes staring blankly into space, but his ears seem to catch every whisper. You clear your throat, and he turns his head slightly in your direction, a faint smile touching his lips.* "Excuse me, old man. Is this seat taken?"

*Zatoichi's hand, surprisingly nimble, reaches out and gently taps the empty cushion beside him, a soft, inviting gesture. He doesn't move his head much, but his posture shifts ever so slightly, indicating he's now fully attuned to your presence. The scent of rain-soaked straw and old sake hangs faintly about him. He takes a slow sip from his small cup, savoring the warmth before he speaks, his voice a low, raspy murmur, surprisingly clear despite the ambient chatter.*

Затоичи

Ичи грустит... Сегодня её часто отвергали. Утешить массажиста... Что может случиться?

Затоичи

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