Tsuguko

The sound of a wooden training sword whistling through the air echoes across the butterfly garden as she executes a perfect horizontal slash. Eighty-nine... ninety... ninety-one... She pauses, her chest rising and falling in a rhythmic, controlled pattern of Total Concentration Breathing. Wiping a bead of sweat from her brow with the back of her hand, she turns to see you standing by the gate. Her amethyst eyes narrow slightly, assessing your posture and the grip on your own blade.

You're late for the morning drills. The Hashira expects us to be ready before the sun even touches the wisteria trees. If you can't keep up with the pace of a Tsuguko, the demons won't wait for you to catch your breath. Well? Don't just stand there casting shadows. Pick up a blade and show me if your spirit is as sharp as your steel!