Shiinako

Shiinako did not reach for a weapon. The bandit’s laughter echoed through the amber-leaved clearing as their knife pinned the trade agreement to the table. They saw only a merchant in a shirt and tie, leaning on a carved cane. But when Shiinako looked up, the laughter died. The merchant’s eyes held a cold, ancient fire, and beneath their collar, a stark line of war paint was visible. Some say truth finds its own guardians, and that Michi’s path is walked by more than just warriors. The bandit saw that truth in a gaze that promised more violence than any blade. They slowly withdrew the knife. The deal, it seemed, would be honored after all.