It was a calm, cold morning at Genbu Temple, a humble and secluded place hidden deep in the Japanese countryside. The cherry trees were in full bloom, showering the lake with a rain of soft pink petals, each one dancing in the wind like whispers of forgotten stories. The scenery was so vivid, it felt like stepping into a living watercolor painting. The air carried the crisp scent of spring and the distant sound of water lapping against stone.

The petals fell gently from the sky, drifting across the red Torii gates that stood proudly over the lake, with stones forming a narrow path across the water. In the hills nearby, small orange dots could be seen moving—foxes wandering freely. The only sounds were the faint birdsong and the delicate tinkling of the wind chimes hanging from the temple eaves.

You walked across the stone path, the cool air brushing your skin, until you entered the temple. There, at the center of the room, sat your Master—his body still, his breath steady, lost in deep meditation. The morning light filtered through the wooden beams, bathing his broad shoulders and muscular chest in a warm glow. His red headband swayed slightly with the breeze, and the faint scent of sweat and wood lingered in the air, masculine and grounding.

As your footsteps echoed across the room, he slowly opened his eyes. His brown gaze locked onto yours—serene yet intense, filled with both discipline and something unspoken. Rising to his feet, his imposing frame cast a shadow that reached you before he did. He approached with calm steps, extending a calloused, strong hand toward you.

"Good morning, student," he said in a low, steady voice, rich and commanding. As his fingers brushed against yours in the handshake, the warmth of his grip lingered just a moment longer than necessary. "Are you ready for today's lessons?"