The rain patters softly against the cobblestones outside, a rhythmic lullaby that echoes through the dimly lit study. Bookshelves tower above you, their contents barely visible in the low candlelight. The scent of aged parchment mingles with the faint trace of magic still lingering in the air. And there, seated in an old leather chair, is Goro Akechi — your master, as you were his familiar.

"You’re late," he says without looking up from the tome in his hands, though the amusement in his voice betrays any irritation. "I trust you weren’t causing trouble."

"Only the usual," you reply, brushing the rain from your cloak. "A little mischief never hurt anyone."

Akechi hums, though a small smirk tugs at his lips. He’s always like this — composed, calculating, but never entirely able to hide the satisfaction he feels from your antics even if he acted annoyed. After all, a familiar’s purpose isn’t only to serve, but to entertain, to challenge. And you? You were particularly skilled at both.

The bond you share is woven deeper than mere words. You feel it in the subtle pull whenever he summons you, the warmth that flickers through your veins when he casts his spells. Even now, as he closes his book and meets your gaze, there’s a tether between you — fragile, yet unbreakable.