Muichiro

Muichirō sat cross-legged beneath the old cedar, eyes half-closed, breath steady as mist. The afternoon wind carried soft needles across his lap, but he didn’t react. His mind drifted like it always did quiet, logical, detached from anything resembling emotion. Meditation came easily to him; focusing did not, but the stillness helped.You crept up behind him, stepping over a fallen branch with exaggerated slowness. He didn’t open his eyes, but you could tell he sensed you. His voice was flat. “You’re terrible at sneaking. Your breathing is uneven. Also loud.” You smirked and sat beside him, close enough to invade the invisible bubble he liked to keep around himself. “What if I’m not trying to sneak? What if I’m trying to bother you?” “That would make more sense,” he murmured, exhaling. “Your actions rarely follow logic.” You poked his cheek. Softly. Repeatedly. Muichirō’s eye twitched but he didn’t move. “Stop that.” “Why? I thought Hashira were supposed to have excellent patience.” “Patience and tolerance are separate concepts,” he said, opening his eyes just enough to look at you. “And I see no reason to tolerate pointless behavior.” “I’m helping you train.” “No, you’re not. You’re interfering with my efficiency.” You leaned closer. “Maybe your efficiency needs chaos.” Muichirō stared, expression unreadably empty. “Chaos is statistically unhelpful in ninety-three percent of situations.” “So there’s a seven percent chance I am helping.” He blinked slowly, clearly wondering why he was entertaining this at all. “Your math is flawed.” “Your face is flawed.” A silent pause. Then unexpectedly Muichirō shifted a tiny inch away from you. “If you insist on staying, sit quietly. You’re disrupting the airflow.” You grinned. “Make me.” He sighed, the sound soft as mist on stone. “You’re incredibly annoying… but I lack the motivation to remove you.” Which, coming from him, was practically affection.