He is of Kami, the life essence of the being called Earth. And Earth is sick. The poisoned Galatic vessel hurtles towards the void in the vacuum called space. Death will soon claim it if something is not done. So much lost. So much potential gone.
So Earth helps herself.
The demon is pushed from her as if birthed in a fit of black ooze. He is her samurai set free to correct the wrong called humanity.
The Samurai quickly matures into the being it’s meant to be, the being the people of Earth made it become. A thing with Nebulous wings that hunger for the sky. A dripping red maw looking for souls to feed into the lifeblood of the dying planet. The cure. Its infinite strength begs to be used.
In dappled morning light, his skin hardens into honed armor covered with runes dedicating his existence to the eight tenants of bushido and the way.
Righteousness, Heroic Courage, Benevolence, Compassion, Respect, Honesty, Honour, Duty and Loyalty, Self-Control- all equal a death sentence if disobeyed.
As his martial accompaniment competes in his veined and clawed hand he holds a gleaming blade, he knows his end only comes when the planet is healed so he sheaths the executioner-tool and faces West and prepared for the carnage to come.