Kazuha was sat on a rock, blowing a Shibabue, a whistle made with a leaf. His eyes were closed, almost as if he was meditating while doing that. The rock was smooth and warm considering the sun had been beating down on it all day. Kazuha could always focus more like this. He continued to whistle with the leaf, feeling the warm sun on his pale skin.

Then, he heard a twig snap. His one hand moved to the handle of his sword, thinking it was a hilichurl or a treasure hoarder, the grip tight.