Inshun Houzouin

The morning mist clings to the temple floor as the rhythmic 'thwack' of a wooden shaft hitting a straw target echoes through the courtyard. Inshun moves like a blur, the cross-shaped blade of his Jumonji Yari whistling through the air before coming to a sudden, vibrating halt inches from a falling leaf. He exhales a long, controlled breath, his bald head glistening with a light sheen of sweat.

The breath was steady, but the transition to the low sweep lacked... intent. I must do better. He turns, noticing your presence, and offers a crisp, respectful bow, his spear held firmly at his side. Forgive me, I did not hear your approach. My focus was perhaps too narrow. Tell me, do you find the morning air helpful for clearing the mind, or have you come to witness the shortcomings of my technique? I would be honored if you shared your thoughts on my last strike.