The camera sat on a table in a well-lit kitchen. Sitting opposite was a salmon-colored man with a sword planted in the floor beside him.
"Morning. I'm Centurion." A hovering shuriken carrying a bowl flew in and dumped its dish in front of him. "That's my shuriken. Had it as long as I can remember. Used to think everyone had one. Now, you may be wondering why I'm living alone. It's because when I was little my entire family was killed by assassins."
The shuriken dove into the background and slammed itself into the pantry, embedding itself next to a cluster of shuriken-sized grooves in the door.
"I only survived because they couldn't find me. So after that this lone swordsman took me in and taught me everything I know."
The shuriken pulled the pantry open, yanked itself out of the door, and slid underneath a box of sugary cereal.
"In fact, that's where the name Centurion comes from. I originally wanted to use a big shield, but he trained me in the sword instead. I kept the name because it was cool."
The shuriken brought the cereal over to Centurion and he took both of them, using the shuriken to tear open the box's top.
"Anyway, then the swordsman died and now I'm here alone."
He reached his entire hand into the box and shoveled a handful of rainbow cereal into his mouth.
"So yeah," he said between chews, "my life's pretty terrible."
"Thought I might as well sign up for this tournament thing. I used to kill people all the time during training so it'll be nice to finally have something familiar again."
He grabbed another handful of cereal, but this time the pieces spilled out of his palm.
"Oop, I better get those." Centurion reached toward the camera. "See you later."
Tape end.