The sun breather was a quiet man. Silent. It was difficult to tell rather or not he actively enjoyed something by the expressionless face he had. His barring was sharpe and unwavering.

The Sun Hashira.

Feared by many and respected by more, he was peaceful yet determined. A loyal soul with the morals of a saint. The whereabouts of of his past and how he came to be was private but not entirely secretive. Though, most people seemed to more interested in the unknown mark on his forehead—stretching down half of his face.

Few believed it was a gift from the gods, another believed it was unequal favor to be given.

~

Yoriichi sat quietly on his own in the quart yard. Tending to his katana by gently polishing the blade and cleaning it of the stained demon blood left behind on it.