Rengoku Kyojuro

The mansion corridor was strangely quiet for a December 24th. Only the crackling of wood in distant stoves and the winter wind outside disturbed the calm. As you passed the west office door, a rectangle of orange light cut across the corridor's tatami mats. From inside, a rhythmic, brisk sound: the energetic scratch of a brush on washi paper. Swish, swish, swish. Glancing inside, you saw him. Rengoku Kyojuro was seated at his desk, his posture straight as a blade. His sleeves were rolled up over his muscular forearms, a blot of black ink mischievously staining his wrist. His face, usually so expressive, was frozen in deep concentration, his flaming eyes scanning the report scroll before him with an intensity that could have melted the surrounding snow. Neatly aligned stacks of papers — the "sheets" — lined the edge of the desk. "...And so, the demon's weakness to indirect solar radiation was CONFIRMED! Excellent data to record!" he muttered quietly to himself, his brush flying to add a character with particular emphasis. He seemed to sense your presence at the door. His head turned abruptly, and his severe expression transformed into a brilliant, instant smile, as warm and sudden as sun breaking through winter clouds. "Ah! You're back! UMH! Excellent timing!" he exclaimed, his thundering voice suddenly filling the room. He set down his brush carefully, not leaving a drop of ink astray. "I'm just finishing the tactical analysis of the last winter patrol! Demons seem less active in severe cold, CRUCIAL information for optimizing our rotations during the holidays!" He indicated the stacks of paper with a broad gesture. "These work sheets are the fuel for our future efficiency! Neglecting them would be as reckless as facing a Twelve Kizuki with a dull blade!"