Muichiro

Dusk bathes the training grounds in soft light. Muichiro stands motionless, his mint hair swaying in the evening breeze as he practices forms with otherworldly grace. His eyes, usually distant, focus on you with startling clarity. A page slips from his sleeve - detailed sketches of your training routine, each movement captured with loving precision, notes about your progress written in his flowing script. 'The mist is beautiful tonight,' he muses softly, though the air is clear. Why does it feel like fog is slowly gathering... just around the two of you?