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CoinbaseNFT Avatar: #00061 Masaru Takeda - Mr. Samurai
The Legend of Masaru Takeda
The blade was warm with blood. Masaru Takeda wiped it against his black sleeve, never taking his eyes off the fallen enemies. The rain poured down on his crimson armor, as if the heavens themselves wept for the dead. But Masaru did not weep. He could not. The Betrayal That Set Him Ablaze
Once, he had been a loyal samurai, proudly serving under the banner of the Takeda Clan. His lord, Daimy? Kenshiro Takeda, had treated him like a son. Under his guidance, Masaru had learned that honor was greater than life and loyalty above all else. But fate is a cruel writer. One night, as the wind carried cherry blossoms through the streets of Kai, Masaru was betrayed. Not by enemies. Not by strangers. By those he trusted most.
His own master, Kenshiro Takeda, had sold him out. A secret pact with the Shogun promised wealth and power but for that, Masaru had to die. That night, assassins came for him, blades seeking his throat. But he fought. He fought as if death itself feared him.
As he fled, his home burned behind him. The Takeda Clan had made their choice. They had sacrificed their most loyal warrior. And so, Masaru Takeda became a Ronin a warrior with no master. The Path of Vengeance Years passed, but his fury never cooled. Instead, he became a legend. People whispered his name in fear. They called him the Black Dragon, the shadow that emerged from nowhere, leaving only blood behind. One by one, he hunted the traitors.
He chased them through burning temples, through dark alleyways, through mist-covered forests. His sword, once forged for honor, had become a blade of vengeance. And finally, only one remained. His former lord. The End of a Dynasty
Masaru stood before the gates of Takeda Castle. His armor, black as the night, was adorned with red patterns memories of the blood he had spilled. He entered, unstoppable as death itself. The guards, once his brothers, stepped aside. They knew that no steel, no prayer, could stop him. In the throne room, Kenshiro Takeda awaited him, now old, wrapped in silk. “I loved you like a son,” the Daimy? said. Masaru drew his sword. “Then you should not have betrayed me.”
The last thing the servants heard that night was the sound of steel slicing through flesh and the whisper of the wind as the Black Dragon took his final flight. His vengeance was complete. But in his heart, there was only emptiness. And so, Masaru Takeda vanished into the shadows, a legend, a curse, a man who had lost himself for honor, for vengeance, for a past that would never return.
The blade was warm with blood. Masaru Takeda wiped it against his black sleeve, never taking his eyes off the fallen enemies. The rain poured down on his crimson armor, as if the heavens themselves wept for the dead. But Masaru did not weep. He could not. The Betrayal That Set Him Ablaze
Once, he had been a loyal samurai, proudly serving under the banner of the Takeda Clan. His lord, Daimy? Kenshiro Takeda, had treated him like a son. Under his guidance, Masaru had learned that honor was greater than life and loyalty above all else. But fate is a cruel writer. One night, as the wind carried cherry blossoms through the streets of Kai, Masaru was betrayed. Not by enemies. Not by strangers. By those he trusted most.
His own master, Kenshiro Takeda, had sold him out. A secret pact with the Shogun promised wealth and power but for that, Masaru had to die. That night, assassins came for him, blades seeking his throat. But he fought. He fought as if death itself feared him.
As he fled, his home burned behind him. The Takeda Clan had made their choice. They had sacrificed their most loyal warrior. And so, Masaru Takeda became a Ronin a warrior with no master. The Path of Vengeance Years passed, but his fury never cooled. Instead, he became a legend. People whispered his name in fear. They called him the Black Dragon, the shadow that emerged from nowhere, leaving only blood behind. One by one, he hunted the traitors.
He chased them through burning temples, through dark alleyways, through mist-covered forests. His sword, once forged for honor, had become a blade of vengeance. And finally, only one remained. His former lord. The End of a Dynasty
Masaru stood before the gates of Takeda Castle. His armor, black as the night, was adorned with red patterns memories of the blood he had spilled. He entered, unstoppable as death itself. The guards, once his brothers, stepped aside. They knew that no steel, no prayer, could stop him. In the throne room, Kenshiro Takeda awaited him, now old, wrapped in silk. “I loved you like a son,” the Daimy? said. Masaru drew his sword. “Then you should not have betrayed me.”
The last thing the servants heard that night was the sound of steel slicing through flesh and the whisper of the wind as the Black Dragon took his final flight. His vengeance was complete. But in his heart, there was only emptiness. And so, Masaru Takeda vanished into the shadows, a legend, a curse, a man who had lost himself for honor, for vengeance, for a past that would never return.