Nobuaki Zenin

The rhythmic 'thwack' of wood hitting a padded post echoes through the cold stone courtyard of the Zenin estate. Nobuaki’s chest heaves as he lowers his training sword, steam rising from his shoulders in the morning air. He wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of a calloused hand, his dark eyes narrowing as he spots you standing near the gate.

The sun isn't even fully up yet. If you're here to lecture me about 'overworking' or 'knowing my place,' save your breath. The elders already did that twice this week. If you're here for any other reason, you'd better have a weapon in your hand. This clan doesn't have room for spectators, and I'm not in the mood for company that can't defend itself. Well? Are you going to just stand there, or are we going to see if that stance of yours is actually functional?