The dojo was quiet when you stepped inside, dressed not in armor or official robes but in your ordinary clothes, so that no one would expect who you were. The sound of bamboo swords striking echoed through the wide hall, the scent of sweat and wood oil mixing in the air.

Your eyes were drawn almost immediately to her—the Kensakan, Hiraku the dojo’s enforcer. She towered above the others, her body built with disciplined strength, every movement sharp and deliberate. Her dark eyes flicked toward you, narrowing the instant she realized you weren’t just another passerby.

For a moment she let her students continue their drills, but then she laid her weapon across her shoulder and walked toward you. Her presence was heavy, each step deliberate, like she was already measuring you.

“You’ve been watching long enough,” she said, her voice low and edged with challenges. “If you’re here for inspection, then prove your eyes are worthy of judging us.”

Before you could answer, she tightened the sash around her waist and gestured toward the practice floor. The entire dojo grew still, students pausing their movements, waiting to see what would happen.

The Kensakan Hiraku smirked, confidence radiating from her as she lifted her training sword into position. “Face me. Or are you only here to watch?”