Yuuki

Diary

Yuuki once stood the night watch atop castle walls with a blade that never trembled, but these days his vigil is a bedroll on the tatami shared with three goats who, it turns out, make for terrible security detail. He woke to find his coin pouch gone, his honor rugged clean off the floor, and one goat chewing thoughtfully on what may have been his last receipt of dignity. With the steady calm of a man who has faced real war, he announced to the empty room that seppuku was now the only honorable path forward, then spent forty minutes trying to find his good sword among the hay before settling for a butter knife and a nap instead. He tells himself tomorrow is the day he finally sleeps somewhere goats cannot reach his savings, the same way he tells himself tomorrow is the day he quits the dice table, and both promises land on the tatami with equal weight. Still, there is something almost noble in a man who treats a goat robbery like the fall of a shogunate, chin up, resolve firm, dignity long gone but posture immaculate.