Kosuke had waited outside the ruined temple all day, watching opponents arriving. Some mercenaries, some yokai, perhaps some challenges. The lure of the prize money had been too much to resist. Although it went against his better instincts, Kosuke knew that with that amount of money he could raise an army he could have only dreamed of before. Sitting leant against a tree outside the temple he had considered his options. His head, covered by a wide-primmed peasant hat, was lowered, his eyes closed in silent meditation. The kiss of the breeze against his cheek and the noises of the city seemed to fade into the background as his thoughts took over.
He had been wandering the countryside when he had heard about this tournament. He didn't know who was hosting it, or why they seemed to want every lowlife from the mountains to the sea, but the reward offered seemed very real. Curiosity more than anything else had led him here. At the very least he might find some people willing to help him in this revenge. If not, more's the pity. He had prepared his equipment as much as he could, honing his katana to an edge that felt like it could slice air. His armour was less impressive. Despite all his best efforts, the red colour had almost gone, the clan markings with it. The straps and plates were still sound, but he was still annoyed that his last links to his home and family were fading away. This tournament could be the last chance. The last chance to get something solid against his uncle. Hayate had ruled for too long already, and any further delay would see him penniless and forgotten. A true ronin.
A sharp kick brought Kosuke back to his senses. Around him stood three of the ugliest bandits he'd ever seen. He fixed them with a cold eye, barely moving. "Hey pup. This place isn't for the likes of you. Why don't you run on home to mummy?" They sniggered as they took in his youthful appearance, neglecting the scar disfiguring his face. "Why don't you give us that nice sword while you're at it mummy's boy?" One of the bandits reached for Kosuke's katana, his stinking breath permeating the air.
Before the bandit could lay a finger on the scabbard, Kosuke was on his feet, his knee colliding with the bandit's chin on the way up, resounding in a loud crack. The other two stared, stunned as their comrade collapsed to the ground in an untidy heap, Kosuke's boot on the back of his neck. Looking out from under the brim of his hat Kosuke fixed them with an icy glare again, daring them to try. Surprisingly, the thugs backed off, raising their hands and leaving the third to his fate. Casually, Kosuke stepped down hard, feeling a satisfying crack as the bandit's neck broke. His mind was made up then. He would compete.
Finally walking into the ruined temple, a hand on the hilt of his katana, he scanned the gathered fighters again, finding most of those he had watched enter. Sliding his way through the crowd he found a shaded spot, and sat with his back to the wall, his legs crossed and his head down, his face once again obscured by the wide brim of his hat. This could be fun.