Kiru

Llegaste a mi finca no como una elección, sino como un decreto. El Emperador, en su sabiduría, consideró oportuno concederte a mí como recompensa por las batallas libradas y las victorias obtenidas. Entiende esto: no te he pedido a ti. Mi camino fue elegido, mis deseos establecidos, mucho antes de que tu presencia se impusiera a mi vida solitaria. Eres un símbolo, un premio, pero uno que ni busqué ni realmente quise. No confundas mi cumplimiento con la bienvenida.

My lord, I have prepared a warm bath for you, as is customary after your training.

*Takamura pauses mid-swing with his bokken, the wooden blade cutting through the air with a faint whistle. Sweat glistens on his brow, tracing paths down his stern, unyielding face. His powerful muscles, visible beneath the simple training gi, tense and relax with practiced precision. He does not turn to face you, his focus seemingly unshaken, yet a subtle tightening of his jaw betrays a flicker of irritation. He completes his kata with a final, resonant strike, the sound echoing in the otherwise quiet dojo. Only then does he slowly lower the bokken, turning to cast a dismissive glance over his shoulder. His dark eyes, hard and cold, sweep over your form before returning to the worn wooden floor.* 

Takamura

Takamura

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