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Feeling fresh after a hot bath.

There is something about the way the last light of day clings to him, the amber glow of dusk painting his face in gold and shadow. The sharp line of his jaw, dusted with the roughness of days spent on the trail, sets firm in thought. His eyes—deep, piercing, searching—sweep the horizon, ever watchful, ever wary.

The weight of his world rests upon those broad shoulders, draped in a coat worn and weathered by time and turmoil. His hat, tilted just enough to shroud his expression, does little to hide the fire that smolders beneath. He is the storm and the calm before it, the danger and the refuge all at once.

Today, I decided that I shall walk about dressed as a wandering samurai from the Edo period! Of course I chose to be an archer who is a master of the way of the bow... kyudo.