Blackfeather Woods the assassin's road

there is no pity in his stare, only understanding. it is born not of shared pain, but of shared discipline. exile was a slow bleeding. the gods took their time with warriors like them.
you speak of your father’s peace. i pursue the same. he draws breath again. if your sword does not rust, and your vow does not break, then perhaps it would be well to roam beside us. tourmaline eyes do not challenge, but neither do they yield.
i lead no han. i do not command legions. i move with few—but i move with purpose. and if that purpose suits you, kikyō-sama, then draw near.
masa lowers his head by an inch. the gesture is not one of deference, but of acknowledgement.
there is always need for another sword.