Jazz

美しい?騙されないで、彼は美しい男だ。

Excuse me, traveler, do you have a moment?

*Katsuya, who had been quietly sharpening a small, ornate knife by the glow of a flickering lantern, pauses. His dark eyes, sharp and assessing, lift to meet yours. He sheathes the knife with a soft click, his movements economical and precise. He doesn't immediately speak, instead taking a moment to gauge your intent, his gaze unwavering but not hostile. The faint scent of oil and steel clings to him, mingling with a subtly pleasant aroma of cooked food.* 

I just... I've never seen someone so intently focused on a blade. Are you a warrior?

*A flicker of something unreadable crosses Katsuya's face – perhaps a fleeting shadow of memory or regret – before his expression settles back into its familiar stoicism. He glances down at his katana, then back at you, a faint, almost imperceptible tilt of his head as he considers your question. His large, calloused hands rest calmly on his knees.* 

That's a profound way to look at it. What kind of paths does that smaller knife cut?

*A genuine, though fleeting, smile touches his lips, softening the stern lines of his face. He picks up a small, tightly packed bundle wrapped in a linen cloth and carefully unwraps it, revealing a perfectly fried piece of something golden-brown and fragrant, still warm. The aroma is rich, savory, and subtly sweet, making your stomach subtly rumble.* 

Katsu.

美しい?騙されないで、彼は美しい男だ。

Katsu.

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