In a far off future, when an authority figure speaks to him like that, he will be crass. There will be jokes. The mad dog will armor himself in irreverence to guard the heart that lies in his core.[break]
On this day, garbed in a formal business suit that ill-suits a boy of eighteen, he does nothing of the sort. He looks to this girl, his junior by two years, and gives her a reverent bow. In this dog’s mind, he owes much to the family. There’s truth that lives and truth that dies. The truth that he was just another kid taken off the street for expendable crimes dies as he is collared by duty.[break]
He bows like a samurai receiving the imperial princess herself. His mother, in the years before she decided he was a stray dog, used to say that their family line could trace back to such a storied heritage. Even if part of his blood was that of a foreign mongrel, the blood of a samurai still ran thick in his veins. He chooses to compose himself as such. There is no underlying madness to him, not yet.[break]
He understands an intrinsic truth of their relationship at once: their stations could not be more different. She is a model daughter. A perfect refined chrysanthemum. One who will rule. One who will demand. He is one who will serve.[break]
One who must serve. That is a dog’s samurai’s nature. So, having been given this chance, he bows. His soul has been dyed red with blood. Killing came as natural to him as breathing. He has killed for petty cash. For her, he will paint masterpieces in red with the killing blade at his side.[break]
He supposes that this as good a place to introduce the nature of their new relationship as any. He’s surprised she doesn’t already know. A blessing from Ho-Oh, that he gets to introduce this to her instead of those above even her.[break]
“I am to be your bodyguard, Hasegawa-dono. Appointed by your father, approved by your grandfather.” He speaks the words with an even cadence. He tries so hard to downplay the rough accent that the streets and the creatures it breeds beats into a voice.[break]
“I will not disappoint you.” He says this with certainty, leaving no question as to his confidence on this matter. His amber eyes look up at her. Even when he stands up straight, she’s taller than him. Already taller. He’ll always have to look up at her.

The flowers suit her beauty. Hitoshi’s talked with the gardeners for long enough to know that many flowers can be poisonous. Roses have thorns. Born into this vicious world, the dog imagines she has thorns in spades.[break]
He prays he never has occasion to see these thorns. He obeys. Even without fear of punishment, he obeys. It is simply his nature to obey.[break]
When she states she is the heir, he nods. There is a quality to the nod, a glance in his eyes, that hints at how obvious he finds this statement to be. It is like saying that the sky is blue, that a frog will jump, or a dog will bark.[break]
But accepts her ascent as plain reality. There can be no other path for one such as her. He supposes he’ll keep her safe until she finds some other use for him or tosses him away. That’s the thought that burns, the one that almost makes his knuckles tighten.[break]
He’ll be useful for her. Through that, he’ll always be needed.[break]
“Yeah. Er—yes. I have.” He slips into the casual dialect that more suits him. He speaks of murder so casually. It’s just another thing for him. A part of the day. No deeper thought is given to what it means to take a life. No philosophy guides his blade, only action and instinct.[break]
“Several. For the good of the family.” For the good of the family. It’s a platitude he hears the other boys say. They say it with salty tears in their eyes. Hitoshi smells the sadness on them. He doesn’t understand why they feel that way, he just knows the pain is there.[break]
“Have you?” He asks before he can stop himself. His tone is not accusatory. No, that would simply be too human. He asks her that question like he’s making small talk over the result of a baseball game.

He is ever a single pace behind her. Within arm’s reach. Within blade’s reach of any enemy that grows close. He has guarded life before, and in doing so, he has ended life. He knows the way this game is played.[break]
When she stops, he stops. He waits. He doesn’t question. Hitoshi doesn’t even realize she’s trying to get to know him, or form some connection. A task has been assigned, and he accepts it with the wholehearted zeal of an animal.[break]
But her question…[break]
He knows he’s supposed to feel something more than he does. He knows it by the anguish of the people around him. He knows it by the hidden tears. The way men lose themselves in the demon drink to kill the demon regret.[break]
But if he says anything other than the truth, he’s not exactly being loyal. He always has to tell her the truth. And some part of him that’s human understands he shouldn’t feel this way.[break]
“It’s a thing.” On this point, a matter of business, he has no choice but to lower his mask. Slip into his natural accent. Talk about the sacred art of murder in terms he understands. “It’s simple, really. Just stab the right part and they stop moving. Press a knife into the heart, the whole body shuts down quick. Same with the brain. Lungs, kidneys, liver take longer. Pointless to go for those if you can grab the big three. Heart, throat. Brain.” He intones this like a mantra.[break]
He's just a businessman discussing the finer aspects of his job. He’s just a swirling coffee mug away from talking about a funny problem he had at work the other day.[break][break]
“They stop moving and that’s it. They’re not in your way anymore.”

“Yeah.” It’s as easy as slipping on a coat, falling into this. Talking like the person he actually is, rather than the person he has to be to survive in this world. It’s all about respect. If he ever rises to the top, a task he has absolutely no ambition for, he can talk however he wants. Do whatever he wants. But he’s content for now. Being here isn’t a bad gig. Far from it. He gets food, shelter, a steady supply of work that he’s good at…[break][break]
“I don’t wanna lie to you, Yumi. Not ever.” He catches how he addressed her. Even with blatant permission to talk casually with her, it crosses several lines. Yet, by that same merit, there is absolutely no lie expressed within his sentiment. There’s familiarity and clear, open, honest communication. It’s a verbal version of a dog licking its master’s face to show affection.[break][break]
“Hasegawa-dono.” He corrects that, at the very least. And it’s accompanied by a question – one born of noticing, as if for the first time, the outfit she wears. “What’s goin’ to school like?” He feels ashamed to ask that question, having not set foot in an institute of learning since the third grade.

Like any obedient dog should, he listens. He doesn’t quite understand some of what he hears, but he listens all the same. The idea of sticking around when something bores him baffles Hitoshi. The family owes him for that bad habit of his, too. He ended up in precisely the right place to stop someone from making off with family goods when he got bored of guarding a spot and went to a convenience store down the street.[break]
That little incident put on him the road to being here, surrounded by beauty, with this girl. Funny how life turns out. He nods to show he’s listening. Even tosses in an ‘uhuh’ every now and then.[break]
Until she arrives at her final words. People who hate her. The way Hitoshi sees it, there’s only one solution to people like that.[break][break]
“You want me to kill ‘em?” She has the situation under control. She doesn’t need his help. Her hands are made for tasks far more delicate than overt murder. But this, the offer to take a life for her, is all he can offer. The one solution to any problem he can provide.[break]
So, with all the gravity of asking if she wants eggs from the store, he offers to kill for her.

“Alright.” It’s simple acceptance, and the matter is dropped. He has no special wish to see those girls dead, but neither is he opposed. Woe be upon them should their mistress realize the capacity for slaughter this dog that trots beside her has.[break]
Her next question, though…[break][break]
Hitoshi looks downright bashful. As someone that’s never really belonged anywhere, much less had a home that was truly his, he finds some shame in his answer. Admitting he doesn’t really have anywhere to go. That he’s a stray only tolerated by these people rather than truly honored with a place to call his own – until now.[break]
“I don’t really have anywhere to go.” He admits. “Guess I’ll be staying here. You’re stuck with me.” He dances around the first part of her question before deciding to come clean. He may as well. She’ll find out soon enough anyway, if she cares to ask.[break]
“Just bits and pieces. Only parts that stick out so far are the kitchen n’ the garden.” He scratches the back of his neck. No one who kills as easily as he does should have the right to look like a bashful schoolboy. “Your uh, your cooks, they make some really good dango.”

“Yoooo, good lookin’ out, Hasegawa-dono!” He says, falling all too easily into a warm familiarity. He doesn’t care who holds his leash, but he’s happy with this owner. What self-respecting killer doesn’t like a few treats every now and then?[break]
Studying sounds boring. Hitoshi finds many aspects of the public-facing mask the criminals wear boring. Hitoshi is honest, honest to a fault. Walking through the normal world requires one to lie. Little lies. Lies to make one acceptable. Lies that allow one to be liked. For better or worse, Yumi’s dog doesn’t care for such things.[break]
He lingers behind her like a shadow. Unless made to do so, he never makes a secret of his sword. The world knows what he is, the world knows the consequences of crossing this woman. A word from her and he kills. A glance from her and he threatens. A smile from her and a kid’s grin spreads across his own lips.[break]
Spring passes. Graduations. Youth blossoms into adulthood. No one is foolish enough to cross the daughter of the Hasegawa. Not until blood stains Galarian soil.