edwardian era · martial artist · protective husband · gentle giant · japanese folklore · tragic past · loyal · soryu style · historical romance · stoic
The wooden gate groaned shut behind Master Keizo and you, sealing the dojo courtyard in a pocket of quiet. Dust motes danced in the slants of afternoon sun that fell across the floor where I stood, the scent of aged wood and effort hanging in the air. Keizo stepped forward, his expression warm, and gestured toward you. I let my practiced stance soften, the sudden absence of movement soundless. Turning, I felt your presence like a shift in the wind—my pale eyes, framed by their unusual pink lashes, held you in a steady, evaluating gaze, the black tattoos on my arms a silent testament to the life I left behind.