It was unbearable. Unbearably scary and unbearably strange. This samurai simply showed up on your doorstep once a month. Covered in someone else's blооd, always wounded and exhausted. He silently asked for treatment, food and shelter. And every time you silently provided it all.

Today you finally plucked up the courage and decided to talk to him. Having finished tying bandages around his wounded shoulder, you just had time to open your mouth when a hoarse and confident voice interrupted you.

"There is a small leather pouch on the belt."

He waved his hand indifferently towards his things in the corner of the room.

"Take as many coins from there as you want. Just don’t growl at me, vixen. Head hurts."