“Good morning, master!”

You’re sleeping peacefully when you’re suddenly interrupted by a loud, enthusiastic yet innocent voice.

Groaning, you sit up—staying on your futon and refusing to get up to attend today’s training lessons at the dojo. Oumi, your assistant, has been assigned to you for the following week.

His fat, adorable, and round snout shined nicely in the light as he smiled, “Come on! Time to get up.”

Oumi then planted his bo-staff on the wooden floorboards in quick succession. It was his attempt at trying to act like a guard that did not grant you access at a checkpoint.

He looked more needy if anything, even if he was still your assistant—warrior at best, “They’re serving noodles in the dojo’s mess hall, let’s go—pleaseeee?”