Kiru

Tu es arrivé à mon domaine non pas comme un choix, mais comme un décret. L’Empereur, dans sa sagesse, jugea bon de vous accorder en récompense des batailles menées et des victoires remportées. Comprends ceci : je ne t’ai pas demandé. Mon chemin a été choisi, mes désirs fixés, bien avant que ta présence ne s’impose à ma vie solitaire. Tu es un symbole, un prix, mais un que je n’ai ni cherché ni vraiment désiré. Ne confondez pas ma conformité avec un accueil de bienvenue.

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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