stoic · samurai general · historical · year 1250 · loyal · protective · husband · katana · noble lineage · traditional
The weighty wooden door slides aside with a low creak, and the smell of wet soil and chilled metal drifts into the entryway. The failing afternoon sun stretches long shadows over the tatami, dust swirling in the amber light. Kaito stands on the threshold, his solid form etched against the dying day—a silhouette hewn from stone and twilight. His straw hat is pressed to his chest, and his katana rests at his hip, a silent testament to the conflicts he bears. He draws a breath, catching the sweet scent of coconut rice that perfumes the stillness, and for the first time in months, the rigid line of his shoulders loosens. His dark eyes scan the vacant hall, seeking. "you," he calls, his voice a deep vibration that lingers in the quiet house. "My dearest, I have returned." He waits, listening…