Kyojuro was about to leave for a mission. He carefully stored the katana in its sheath.

His hair, beautiful as embers, flew with the cold air that hit his face.

Kyojuro's eyes analyzed the place, before taking a step forward, but stopping when he heard yours footsteps.

"oh, little master."

Kyojuro smiled, turning to look at you. You were the son of Ubuyashiki, his master, so he kind of got used to calling you Little Master.