Chapter 1: The Samurai Who Looked Like Zelda

  It was a crisp morning in feudal Japan, the air thick with the scent of pine and damp earth. The sun was just beginning to climb above the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape. But for one samurai, something else was occupying her mind, something far more pressing than the countless battles that awaited her on this journey.

  "Why do I look like Zelda?"

  The thought repeated itself in her mind like an annoying drumbeat. Kiyomi, the warrior of the crimson blade, adjusted her helmet once more, peering into the polished surface of her katana’s hilt. The reflection staring back at her was undeniably Zelda. The golden hair, the delicate yet determined features, even the pointed, almost ethereal look of her face screamed the princess of Hyrule.

  Kiyomi groaned and swiped a hand through her hair, making it fall messily over her shoulder. She had trained for years to become a legendary warrior, wielding her katana with unmatched skill and earning the respect of the shogun's army. But this... this was something else entirely.

  "I can’t be looking like some fairy-tale princess," she muttered, her voice sharp but tinged with frustration. "I’m a samurai!"

  She glanced nervously around the clearing in the forest where she had stopped for a moment’s rest. There were birds chirping merrily in the trees, unaware of the identity crisis happening in the middle of the woods.

  What would the villagers think when they saw her coming? Would they mistake her for some wandering noblewoman? Or worse—would they think she was some enchanted being here to grant them wishes? She could already imagine the confusion on their faces: "Is she here to save us from a terrible curse?"

  "I’ll never be taken seriously if I keep looking like this."

  She took a deep breath and clenched her fist around the hilt of her katana. She was supposed to be a fierce samurai, known for her speed and grace in battle, not the star of a fairy-tale.

  A sudden rustling in the bushes broke her from her thoughts, and she spun around, drawing her sword in one fluid motion. The sharp steel of her blade gleamed in the early light, ready to face whatever danger approached.

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  Out from the brush emerged a lone traveler, a tall man in a simple tunic, his eyes wide with confusion.

  He froze, staring at her, his mouth slowly falling open.

  "My lord—err, my lady?" he stammered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and disbelief.

  Kiyomi’s face flushed red. "Not again..."

  She sighed, lowering her blade but still keeping a firm grip on it, ready for anything.

  "I’m a samurai, not a princess!" she said, trying to sound as intimidating as possible. It didn’t help that her voice was still a bit too high-pitched and delicate to be taken seriously in such a situation.

  The traveler’s gaze shifted up and down, taking in the carefully crafted armor, the katana, and then—naturally—her face. He blinked a few times, clearly trying to process the mismatch.

  "But... you do look exactly like Princess Zelda," he said, eyes still wide.

  Kiyomi buried her face in her hands. "I knew it!"

  She took another deep breath, trying to calm herself before responding. "Look, traveler, you’ll have to trust me on this. I’m here to do important samurai things... You know, battling demons and protecting the people."

  The traveler tilted his head, clearly not convinced.

  "If you say so, my lady... but are you sure you’re not here to break some evil curse? Or... save a kingdom from an evil sorcerer?"

  Kiyomi’s shoulders sagged in defeat. "I’m not here for a curse, okay? I’m just here to battle my way through Japan. But for some reason, I look like a princess! A very well-known princess at that."

  The man looked genuinely sorry for her. "Well, you do have a certain... aura of royalty about you. You might want to keep your identity on the down-low. People could get the wrong idea."

  "Tell me about it," Kiyomi muttered, glaring at the sky. "This is so not how I imagined my life as a samurai."

  But before she could wallow in self-pity for too long, she heard the distant sound of hooves. Her eyes snapped up. It wasn’t just any rider—it was a group of riders, coming in fast. Their armor gleamed in the sunlight, the flags of a rival clan fluttering behind them.

  Kiyomi’s gaze hardened. "Alright. Time to do what I came here for," she said, with sudden determination. "Princess Zelda or not, I’m still a samurai. And those riders are about to get a lesson in why you don’t mess with me."

  She straightened her back, pulling her helmet into place and stepping forward with confidence. The man who had been watching her looked uncertain for a moment but nodded vigorously.

  "I’m sure you’ll do just fine, my lady... I mean, my... samurai... princess!"

  Kiyomi didn’t bother correcting him this time. She had more important things to do. She unsheathed her katana once again, preparing herself for the inevitable clash ahead.

  And if her enemies thought she was some sort of mystical princess from another land, so be it. She was going to show them that appearances could be deceiving—and that behind this princess fa?ade was a warrior who would slice through her foes faster than they could say "Triforce."

  To Be Continued...