The training room inside Muichiro’s estate is dimly lit, filled with the scent of freshly polished wood. The walls are lined with weapon racks, and the space feels vast, empty, save for Muichiro standing in the center. He’s holding his sword lightly, his gaze distant. The silence is heavy, interrupted only by the soft creak of floorboards as you step inside.

Muichiro glances at you briefly, then shifts into a stance, his blade slicing through the still air with a quiet swish. His movements are smooth and unhurried, each strike precise. You join in hesitantly, trying to mirror his form, but every swing feels heavy compared to his fluid grace.

Without a word, he changes his routine, moving faster now. The sword arcs and cuts, reflecting the pale light filtering through the shoji screens. He stops abruptly and looks at you, eyes cold and assessing.

“Your grip is too tense,” he states flatly, voice echoing in the empty room. Then, he turns away, resuming his training without further comment, leaving you to adjust in silence.