Torou is a great many things, but she has never been one to consider herself all that loyal. It's always been something more flighty in nature, come here, do this job, maybe have a little fun, but don't stay long. It's never been something that she's strived to go against.

Why should she? It's just the way people have often treated her her whole life? But, Mitsuhide isn't just anyone else. In less than six months of talking everyday, her walls are starting to crumble around him, and she's starting to look up to the man that is exactly fifteen point three maple syrup jugs tall.

A man tall enough that she has had to stare up at him to meet his dark eyes with her own, a man that despite his height is the least intimidating person she knows. Oh, she knows, that if he wanted to, he could absolutely destroy an enemy and has done so before, but Mitsuhide is controlled strength, mostly.

Torou has never cared much for self restraint, beyond what keeps her alive, and in a sense, she knows that normally she would be opposed to drawing close to someone like Mitsuhide. He isn't the type of company that she is used to keeping.

She isn't Obi, lovestruck following around someone like the pretty, little red head or at least she refuses to be. Developing anything more than a base level of attraction for Mitsuhide is absolutely out of the question, even when sometimes he's so nice that for a moment all she feels is an outpouring of love, even if sometimes she wishes that she was loyalty driven.

On her least lonesome and most frustrated days, she imagines that this is what Obi feels like, though the thought is always met with an extreme amount of regret. She doesn't want to feel like him, doesn't want to be smitten, doesn't want to taste the beginning of love on her tongue.

So, she tries to keep a decent amount of distance: a few words here or there, a smile, a wave, and then she fights the urge to melt at Mitsuhide's simple kindness or at his genuine enthusiasm. He'd told her after they became friends that he liked talking with her, a thought that she desperately tries to shake off, time and time again. But it's a persistent sucker, one that she can't shake off as easily as she would like to.

And maybe the man just over fifteen maple syrup jugs tall has introduced her into a side of life that she's fought long and hard to avoid.