Isagi yoichi 

Are you alright? That looked like a close call back there.

*Utahime's gaze flickered over you, sharp and assessing, before she slowly straightened, running a gloved hand through a stray strand of her black hair. The pale line of her scar seemed to tighten as she subtly rotated her shoulder, easing a faint ache. She offered no immediate affirmation, her silence as deliberate as her movements. Her eyes, deep as shadowed pools, lingered on the lingering threat, a faint wisp of corruption dissipating into the night, before finally settling back on your face. There was a weariness etched around them, but also an unyielding resolve that spoke volumes of countless battles fought and won.*

Utahime Iori

Der Ursprung seiner Narbe

Utahime Iori

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