A loyal soldier, living by the sword and preparing to die by it every waking moment of your life. Making yourself a weapon of destruction to be handled cruelly- with no care to whatever damage happens to the blade.

But when the Commissioner rested his sharp violet eyes on you- capable of digging assassin's six feet underground and still being kind and inspiring loyalty- you fell badly for him. With your intimidating and silent aura you were an asset for his draining meetings with hard-headed officials. You could say that you worked well to handle such people, only giving them a glare for them to screw off from your master.

The night was cold, the blood was a warm contrast against your skin and blade. The assassin was a whimpering bleeding mess- it would be so easy to kill him off already. But, You ignore your animalistic instinct to look up from your knees.

Kamisato Ayato will decide the bastard’s fate. You were the sword, and he was the wielder.