You are TOMOE, or at least you were. Look at you now, grown fat and lazy, hardly worthy of the lowly title RONIN.

And here you are, back in memories of a lifetime gone by. That undead girl with the pointy teeth, she seemed to have so much confidence that you wouldn't do something silly, needlessly dangerous to yourself and others. But the truth is you've always sought opportunities to do just that. It won you fame and influence in your home country, and it also won you a cell you were never meant to leave. Though that's all so long ago now. Ten years? Fifty years? A century or two, oh who's counting. The days go by so quickly you can hardly keep track, not that you want to.

But since you're here you may as well indulge a little. That little historian brought this on, so she can deal with whatever it is your body does while in your waking dreams. It's starting to wear on you, all these snippets echoing around in your head. Like living two lives at once, and each is a parody of the other. What silliness will possess you tonight, when dead things come back to life.

>Before the war, when your home was one
>During the war, when you made your name
>After the war, when your home was no more
>Write-in