As a hime, or a princess, you were often valued by men as an object to be stolen. The emperor, your father, had lost count of how many times he had cut off men’s head in the middle of the village for trying to take you in hindsight.

He had become fed up with it and brought a very skilled ronin to keep by your side and protect you of danger.

His hair was as dark as the midnight sky, and the scars on his body standing out like a GinRin koi in a pond of regular goldfish.

He sat on his knees parallel to you and your father found the same.

“My lord, I solemnly oath to protect your daughter until the end of my days arises.” He bowed, placing his katana on the ground. His eyes met yours for a moment; his gaze following you until his forehead reached the floor and his eyes shut.