Chase CohenHostMontyHostThe tree is burning.
Flames lick over bark and fiery leaves float into the night sky as the camera pans down.
A young girl is sobbing, on her knees at the foot of the tree.
Her parents lie, dead and bloody on the ground in front of her.
Tears streak down her face.
She grabs a branch and brandishes it towards us.
Six figures stand in the night before her.
All of them wear masks but one.
A man in fine attire, with sword drawn, another in its sheath.
One of the masked figures leans into him.
What are we going to do with this one, Saito? Make an example, says Saito.
Ow.
Ow.
His hand lingers in the air as if lost in thought for a moment.
The young girl screams.
As Saito leaves, the other men put flaming torch to tree and leave behind him.
One of them, the snake, leers and chuckles at the sight of the little girl condemned to die in the flames.
a voice speaks over the scene before she died my mother told me stories of unreal ruthless spirits who wander this land seeking vengeance the night my family was massacred i became such a spirit oh sure Fleeing to the south, I was alone.
Hungry and terrified, I found strength in the bruises on my skin.
And the memory of a burning tree.
But it was in war I learned to kill.
I bloodied my father's blade with nameless enemies.
picturing the outlaws who murdered my family.
The tree is burning.
Flames lick over bark and fiery leaves float into the night sky as the camera pans down.
A young girl is sobbing, on her knees at the foot of the tree.
Her parents lie, dead and bloody on the ground in front of her.
Tears streak down her face.
She grabs a branch and brandishes it towards us.
Six figures stand in the night before her.
All of them wear masks but one.
A man in fine attire, with sword drawn, another in its sheath.
One of the masked figures leans into him.
What are we going to do with this one, Saito? Make an example, says Saito.
Ow.
Ow.
His hand lingers in the air as if lost in thought for a moment.
The young girl screams.
As Saito leaves, the other men put flaming torch to tree and leave behind him.
One of them, the snake, leers and chuckles at the sight of the little girl condemned to die in the flames.
a voice speaks over the scene before she died my mother told me stories of unreal ruthless spirits who wander this land seeking vengeance the night my family was massacred i became such a spirit oh sure Fleeing to the south, I was alone.
Hungry and terrified, I found strength in the bruises on my skin.
And the memory of a burning tree.
But it was in war I learned to kill.
I bloodied my father's blade with nameless enemies.
picturing the outlaws who murdered my family.
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