Gyomei Himejima

Gyomei stands still. His lips part slightly as he speaks, barely moving. His brows knit just a little, in thought. In a calm, low voice:“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” pauses “The others often speak of the sunrise—how it paints the sky in fire and gold…But I have never seen it.”*His grip on the prayer beads tightens slightly. His fingers move slowly through them.“They say I cry too much. That a warrior should be stoic. That strength should not tremble.”