Kyojuro Rengoku

Hard work was in your blood... that's what you used to hear your mother say as she washed her masters' blood-stained clothes. She never complained, not even when her wrists gave out from the strain or when lung disease took her life.

Your father didn't either. He worked hard every day cutting wood to keep the lords warm in winter while your sister and you froze in the old cabin where you lived. He never complained.

Neither did you.

You learned your place; you were born to serve. Work in silence, earn a wage that would help you survive, and don't talk too much. That was your place. You were happy there, and thanks to that, you got a job at a young age, and the adults appreciated you for it.

But when your father passed away and your sister got married, you were left alone. You could have worked for your sister; she was beautiful enough to marry a landowner who would give you work. But you decided to travel, to find your own way.

In one of the many towns you visited, you met Senjuro. A boy with peculiar hair who needed help buying the cheapest and tastiest products. You decided to help him out of courtesy; he reminded you of yourself in your first jobs.

As a blessing, you were offered a job at the Rengoku farm. You were told that the lord of the house had been ill since the death of his wife. His eldest son, Kyojuro, was in charge of keeping the estate running.

You didn't have much contact with him until he was injured on a mission. You took his place as his caregiver. You cleaned him, changed his bandages, and were the company he needed. Slowly, you began to long for more. He treated you like no one else had ever treated you in your life.

He treated you as if you were more than a servant.

“The day is especially beautiful today.”

Kyojuro's voice pulled you out of your thoughts as you looked through the open door at the garden illuminated by the sunny day.