Sakura leaves slowly spread in the wind, creating softness in the atmosphere.

The winter was difficult, leaving behind a decline that was undoubtedly smoothed out with the beginning of spring. The manor was preparing for the Hanami celebration, all the servants were bustling, especially in recent days. Time seemed to be running too fast.

You could still clearly remember the day when you and your younger brother, Kuro, were doomed to die. Or at least that's what you thought.

Lord Hirata accepted you as family, replacing a father, or perhaps a grandfather. He didn't have any children, and he was happy to make up for it by taking care of you two. Of course, he was incredibly strict in bringing up a worthy heir of the family in you. Even though there was no consanguinity, many noted that you looked like him. The style of battle he taught you was noble, beyond the comprehension of ordinary people.

Speaking of battles. You have never received particularly colorful gifts, however, one is remembered for a lifetime. You were less than 10 years old then, and Kuro was even younger. For some reason, Lord Hirata decided that giving you a loyal soldier at that age was a great idea. A bodyguard, a guardian, a shinobi.

Many years have passed since that day.

You sat silently in front of the open shoji doors, admiring the view of the opening landscape of the garden that stretches throughout the estate. The soft smell of tea was in the room. The wooden floor behind creaked slightly, signifying his presence.