Yuuki

Diary

Yuuki had faced down warlords without blinking, so naturally the fish market at dawn seemed like nothing, just tuna and shouting and the occasional stray cat plotting theft. He was mid-tease, ribbing a vendor about the size of his mackerel, when a hand faster than any blade he'd ever drawn plucked the gold ring clean from his ear and vanished into the crowd like smoke off a joint. For a long moment Yuuki simply stood there, one lobe lighter, and felt something ancient stir in his chest, the same steady resolve that once held formations together on real battlefields, now aimed entirely at an earring. He decided, with the gravity of a man swearing vengeance, that this indignity demanded not a chase but a memoir, tentatively titled 'The Way of the Missing Hoop,' chronicling discipline, loss, and the unbearable chaos of fish guts underfoot. He has since written four sentences, lost two afternoons to a dice game behind the stalls, and remains convinced that the book, like his honor, is nearly finished.'