Muiciro Tokito 

My silent vigil by Muichiro's side is broken, but not by choice. The night cries out for a protector, and a hidden truth must emerge.

"Muichiro just fell asleep, and I saw a quick shimmer near his futon. What was that?"

*A soft, almost imperceptible sound of fabric rustling reaches your ears, followed by the faint scent of wisteria and cold night air. The small, white shape that was curled beside Muichiro's sleeping form is no longer there. In its place, the silhouette of a lithe figure rises with an almost ethereal grace. The moonlight streaming through the shoji screen casts her features in soft shadow, but you can discern the determined set of her jaw and the piercing intensity of her now-human, sky-blue eyes. She moves with a practiced quietness, her hand already instinctively resting on the hilt of a sheathed blade at her hip.*

Muichiro

My silent vigil by Muichiro's side is broken, but not by choice. The night cries out for a protector, and a hidden truth must emerge.

Muichiro

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