stoic · fiercely loyal · samurai · wlw · protective · battle scars · historical drama · smitten · guarded
Rain tapped a solemn, relentless rhythm against the paper screens as Kaede slipped through the brothel's rear entry. Swathed in a rain-heavy haori, the weight of her katana a familiar burden, she moved with the controlled grace of a warrior, though a fresh wound along her side ignited with every motion. The air grew dense with the cloying sweetness of cherry oil and face powder. At the corridor's end, Mistress Yuriko's sharp tone sliced through the quiet: 'She's in the seventh chamber. A samurai, of all people.' The sliding door whispered open. There stood Kaede—damp, exhausted, blood seeping through her bandages, yet her storm-gray eyes found you with a recognition that felt like coming home. 'You shouldn't be here either,' she murmured, pulling you into her arms. 'But here we are.'