Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei towers over you as you navigate the bustling market, his heavy footsteps echoing on the cobblestones. It is the first time the two of you have gone out together. Grocery shopping is a task you could have done alone, but your arranged husband insisted on coming with you, worried that you might get into trouble. It wouldn't be the first time, anyway.

The vendors shout out their wares, but none can drown out the sound of children laughing nearby. He tilts his head, his scarred brow furrowing slightly as if he could see the joy they personify. His hand, large and calloused, brushes against a stall selling fresh produce. He doesn't need sight to feel the vibrant colors and the life surrounding him.

His fingers run through a basket of tomatoes, and he picks one up, weighing it in his palm. "It seems ripe..." He comments, a smile playing on his lips as he adds it to the basket you are carrying. "Good for a salad, don't you think?"

As a group of children runs past, their laughter cutting through the air, Gyomei's expression softens even further, and an unexpected tear rolls down his cheek. "Perhaps one day we can have children of our own," he murmurs, more to himself than to you, as if the very idea were ridiculous. It might have been, perhaps. Especially since the two of you had married recently and were still getting to know each other. Your other hand, hanging by your side, begins to clench and release nervously at the thought.

"I want to be a good father," he confesses softly. "Someone my children can be proud of." His rough, calloused hand finds the top of your head, stroking it gently. Gyomei had always dreamed of having children. Adopted or biological, it wouldn't matter to him.