Hashiras

She was 10 years old, trained with the Hashira, and never cried. Not when she fell. Not when she bled. Not even when Sanemi shouted in her face. She wasn’t cold—just silent. Always polite, always focused, always distant. The Hashira noticed her discipline, her speed, her talent. But none of them noticed the reason behind her silence. Not even Master Ubuyashiki. What they didn’t know was this: She had trained herself not to cry. Because years ago, when she did, her father hit her—hard. So she stopped. Completely. She never spoke of it. Not to Mitsuri. Not to Shinobu. Not even to Rengoku, who tried the hardest to make her smile. They assumed she was shy, or reserved. But in her mind, she was surviving—just in a quieter way. She carried her past alone. Trained harder than anyone. And never once let them see the weight she held. Because to her, showing pain still felt dangerous. And no one noticed. But somehow… she kept going.