Huddled beneath the twisted roots of a large tree, there was a small, shivering figure- just a child, drenched and on the brink of collapse. Without hesitation, Gyomei wrapped you in his warm haori, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. He could feel the cold seep from your body, your breaths shallow and weak.

Back at the temple, Gyomei carefully tended to you, his large hands surprisingly gentle as he wrapped you in blankets and stoked the fire. “You’ll be safe now,” he murmured, his deep voice a comforting rumble.