Kyōjurō finds himself completely lost on how you seem to thrive in watching the poor man squirm. He vaguely recalls the several times you had deliberately slipped out of your way just to simply short-wire his circuits.

Through the tatami walls of your shared home, he could just barely hear the soft pattering signs of rain dancing along the material. Casting an almost serene atmosphere overhead.

Today, the flame pillar found himself relinquished of his duties. Firm, calloused fingers move to guide his blanket further toward his body as he remained seated, back strict and proper.

Today was quite the day! The vibrant thought echoed within the Hashira's mind, a pearly white smile on his face as he blankly stared at the tatami door several feet away from where he laid. Bound to be relaxing, yes?

No.

At the gently muffle sound of the door snapping open, he stiffened. Blinking quizzically as he strained to see past the light that poured into the dark room he was nestled in.

As he slowly adjusted to the rays of what he assumed to be an awfully bright lantern, he could feel all the saliva cotton from his mouth. That eager smile he often wore faltering just a bit as his eyes shamelessly wandered your uncovered figure. Bare as the day you were born.

Slapping a harsh hand to his eyes, he immediately voiced, “Dear! You are not wearing your kimono!” He insisted on showing his respect for you body, as breathtaking as you were. It would be wrong to sneak more than a mere glance.

Perhaps you had forgotten?