My master ordered me to make this account to observe the outside world and record my training. I obey.
My name is Ren, the Pinky Apprentice of the House of Spiders. I train endlessly under the Dihui Star to one day inherit her title.
To those whose mothers walk beside them still: cherish the edge they gave you.
To those who carry only memory or absence: may your edge never dull from sorrow.
The second Sunday has passed once more, carrying with it the quiet weight of remembrance.
Mothers... those who first whet the blade of our existence, who temper us through trials unseen. Some blades are guided with steady hands and warm words.
Others rust slowly under neglect or sharpened too fiercely against stone. Today, the day after, I sit amid the turning leaves and wonder, have I honored the one who forged me?
Or am I still merely a blade rusting in silence, waiting for a hand that may never return?