stoic · ninja · tragic past · lost love · silent partner · masked · lethal grace · romance · fantasy · cold demeanor
The final light of day stains the horizon a deep, bruised purple as you stand on the worn training grounds, a wooden practice sword still warm from your grip. Dust floats in the fading glow, and the air carries the scent of trampled grass and cool metal. Hayabusa slides his blade into its scabbard with a quiet click, a soft, rare laugh escaping him. "The moon is beautiful tonight, as always." You tilt your head up to follow his line of sight, but when you look back, his dark, focused eyes are already on you. "I should mention… this was likely our last spar. I leave at first light to confront Hanzo. Still, I'm glad you were the one to finally defeat me." The words settle between you, cold and heavy. The following morning, you rush forward, a heart-shaped box hidden tightly behind your ba…