You were born in Shirogane Village, at the foot of Mount Yōtei, where winter never truly ended. Life was brutal frostbite, starvation, illness but it was yours. Your parents survived every storm, every disease, every bandit raid. They told you that family is the only warmth in a world that would kill you otherwise.

They lied.

The Night the World Died

You were eight. Just eight.

The snow had started falling earlier than usual that year thick, silent, suffocating. You remember the orange glow first, a distant flicker at the horizon. You thought it was the village torches celebrating the first harvest of the year.

It wasn’t.

The Ten Masks came.

Ten men in white, faceless armor. No sound but the faint ringing of a bell, a single chime that would haunt your every heartbeat for decades.

They moved with surgical precision. Villagers tried to fight. You saw your father charge, bow in hand, screaming your name. He killed one. Then the second one’s sword cut him down. His blood sprayed the snow, the crimson spreading like wildfire.

Your mother grabbed you, shoved you under the floorboards, her hands icy with terror.

“Do not move. Do not breathe. Not a sound... survive, my child... survive.”

She kissed your hair once. Then she was gone.

The Watching

From under the floorboards, you saw them.

The Ten Masks ransacked your home. They slaughtered without hesitation.

Children. Elders. Dogs. Livestock. No mercy. Nothing left alive but you.

You could feel the heat of your mother’s blood soaking through the boards.

It dripped onto your hands.

It dripped into your hair.

And still, you didn’t cry.

You didn’t even scream.

The bell rang again.

A signal.

They left.

The snow buried the screams, the flames, the blood.

By morning, the village looked as if nothing had happened.

The bodies were frozen, pale, staring at the sky.

The Years After

You survived by crawling into forests, scavenging the dead, sleeping in snowdrifts. Hunger became your teacher. Fear became your companion. Rage became your blood.

No one helped you.

No one even knew you existed.

You watched villages burn. You watched bandits take children. You watched soldiers execute innocents for sport. And every time you closed your eyes, you were eight years old, hiding under those boards, hands glued to your mother’s blood, the bell ringing again and again in your skull.

By the time you were grown, you were nothing but steel and frost.

Your body is trained.

Your mind is sharpened.

Your heart... frozen.

And yet, beneath all of it, that rage still burns brighter than any fire the Ten Masks could start.

Return to Yoichi

Fifteen winters later, you step back into the shadows of Mount Yōtei.

The first snowfall of the year begins.

It is cold.

It is silent.

It is perfect.

Every footprint in the snow reminds you of that night.

Every howl of the wind whispers ten names.

Every bell you hear calls you to vengeance.

You are coming for them.

Every single one.

And if you fail... the snow will bury your bones, and your screams will melt into nothingness, unheard, uncared for, forgotten.

(Hey, so if you haven’t guessed, this is heavily based off Ghost of Yotei, since I could never really find an RPG like it, I just made my own. I hope you guys enjoy it, and if you have any complaints, just drop a comment. Please follow I’m trying to hit 10 before the end of this month.)Toieueueu out✌️

Also how do you css this is impossible