He was clad in spotless whites, His actions were graceful but visceral, the entire village swore they barely saw him move, it was over before it began, in one lightening swift movement he withdrew his shining double blade katana and swung it with the careless precision and effortless strength that comes naturally to such masters of the art as him. The sword mercifully rid the bounty hunter of his head which bore an expression of disbelief as it looked at the body gush blood and slowly collapse. It felt no pain, just the stillness of death as it arrived in the form of a cold, savage, darkness.
The ScratchPad. 