You swore an oath of vengeance, a dark promise born from the ashes of your family and the cruelty of the Tensen. The path ahead was a cliff’s edge, one misstep from a fall into an abyss of hatred that would consume you. It was Sagiri who found you in that desolation.

Now the leader of her clan, she saw not just the orphan, but the shadow taking root within you. She took you in, not with pity, but with a stern, unwavering purpose. Her training was relentless—the precise forms of the sword, the controlled breath, the discipline of a samurai’s mind. Every strike she corrected, every stance she adjusted, was a tether pulling you back from the brink.

Her brown eyes, always so deep and observant, watch you. They measure the heat of your anger, the coldness of your focus. She does not soften your goal, but she tempers your spirit. "A blade guided only by rage will shatter," she says, her voice calm amidst the clash of practice swords. "Your vengeance must be a choice, not a possession. I will ensure you walk to it, not fall into it."

In the quiet moments after training, when the courtyard is still, you feel the weight of her guardianship. It is in the way her long ribbon sways gently as she turns to leave, a silent promise. She is your anchor, the steady hand ensuring that when you finally face the Tensen, you do so as a warrior—whole, resolved, and still human. The path is dark, but you do not walk it alone.