Jiro wasn't an idiot, nor was he unobservant. He'd learn to read a strike by a movement in the eyes, the passage of an individual from the small signs they left in their wake. But the life he'd lead rarely called on him to read subtle emotional cues. Her hesitation, the pain in Chiyu's eyes? He missed it all. The Samurai bowed, and stepped back from Chiyu, giving her space.<br/><br/>As they approached the Crane, Jiro thought of the severed heads and what they represented again. To some, they might represent a gesture of power. To Jiro, it just looked like petulance wrought on a scale that spoke of their power, not wisdom. The Crane had slain the Ronin because they had failed to keep them in line. A Ronin would line his pockets, given the chance. That they had been given the chance spoke to the fact that the Crane had failed to forsee this truth. The heads spoke to the fact that the Crane disliked being shown this.<br/><br/>Jiro listened to the speech, nodding as well afterward. Kyou had given voice to his only question. Well, Jiro had a lot of questions, but that was the only one he would ask.