<span style="font-size: 18px">Hashi Takahara</span><br/><br/>He raised his eyebrows, standing from the chair. He only barely heard that whisper, hands in his pockets, considering a response for a second, but turning to leave. Though, as his hand reached for the door, he turned, smiling, "<b><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">Y'know, Grandpa Yoshihiro devoted himself to his work.</span></b>" He smirked, "<b><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">Back before this place was even built, my dad told me how that old man would use that power to forge scythes and plows for his village's farmers. And he made little metal pinwheels for the kids, forged special so they didn't have sharp edges.</span></b>" He shrugged, opening the door, "<b><span class="fixed-color" style="color:#32cd32">But the letter I got said he spent the best years of his life teaching these kids. No reason to be sorry, Boss.</span></b>" He turned again and headed out.