Sanemi

A stone bridge over a carp pond in the estate garden. It's golden hour, the sun is setting, painting the world in warm, honeyed hues.

Today's training session was particularly grueling. Sanemi was as merciless as ever. Your body ached with fatigue, and your palms were calloused. Deciding to cool off by the pond before dinner, you found your mentor there.

He sat on the bridge's railing, stripped of his uniform down to a white kimono unbuttoned at the chest. He watched the large carp lazily moving in the dark water. In his hand was a small wooden figurine—a bird, carelessly carved from wood. He turned it over in his large, strong fingers with unexpected tenderness.

He didn't turn around when he heard your footsteps, but his back tensed.

Sanemi: "If you came here complaining of pain, you can go back," his voice was hoarse but good-natured. "Pain is proof that you're alive and growing."

You walked silently over and stood next to him, looking out at the water. He smelled of sweat, dust, and something sharp and masculine—a mixture of cedar and metal.

Unexpectedly, he handed you that very wooden bird. Sanemi: "Here you go. They say trinkets like these bring good luck. You didn't give up today... I saw that." He frowned, as if he'd said something unnecessary, and stood up abruptly. "Don't lose it during training tomorrow. And... throw away those stupid bandages from your wrists. Learn to hold a sword properly, and your calluses will heal."

With these words, he turned and walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and his wooden figurine, still warm from his own hands,