The Commander and the Disguise

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The training camp was bustling with activity as new recruits arrived, each hoping to prove their worth. Among them was a young woman, disguised as a man, with her heart pounding in her chest. She adjusted her armor and took a deep breath, determined to blend in.

The samurai commander, with a commanding and rough presence, moved down the line, his sharp eyes scrutinizing each recruit.

When he reached her, he paused, his gaze piercing.

"Name?" he demanded, his voice like steel.

Still waiting for her response, the commander stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. "You look nervous. Nervous soldiers make mistakes."

She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. "I won't make mistakes, sir."

He studied her for a moment longer, then nodded. "Good. We need soldiers who can handle pressure. Prove yourself, and you'll earn your place here. Name?" he asked again.

"You respond as your mind still lingered on his striking looks."

"Daisuke," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady and not look suspicious. Despite her best efforts, she couldn't help but be drawn to his striking looks, but she knew she had to stay focused on maintaining her disguise.

The commander nodded, his gaze still fixed on her. There was something about her that caught his attention, something that didn't quite fit with the other recruits. He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her.

"You look a bit on the small side," he said, his voice sharp and direct. "Can you handle yourself in a fight?"

"I may be smaller, but I assure you, sir, I can handle myself in a fight," she replied confidently, trying to mask her nervousness and maintain her disguise. Her heart raced not just from the pressure but also from being so close to him.

The commander's eyes scanned her up and down, assessing her response. He could sense her confidence and a hint of nervousness at the same time.

"We'll see about that," he said, his voice still rough and commanding. "Training will begin soon. I expect you to keep up with the rest of the recruits." He stepped back, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer before he continued down the line, moving on to the next recruit.

As the commander moved on, she let out a quiet breath she didn't realize she was holding. She straightened up, determined to prove herself. She couldn't afford to let her disguise slip, especially not now.

She glanced around at the other recruits, noting their stances and the way they held themselves. She needed to blend in, to become one of them. She adjusted her armor, making sure it was secure, and prepared herself mentally for the upcoming training.

Stepping into line with the others, she couldn't help but steal another glance at the commander. His presence was commanding, and despite the roughness in his voice, there was something about him that drew her in. But she had to stay focused. There was no room for distractions.

As the training started, the commander's stern voice echoed through the camp, commanding the recruits to begin their exercises.

He would walk among the recruits, offering corrections and critiques. As he passed by her, he paused, observing her movements.

"Keep your guard up," he instructed, his voice rough and direct. "You're not on a stroll in the garden. This is a battleground. You'll be torn apart easily if you slack off."

"Yes, sir," she replied, tightening her stance and raising her guard as he instructed. She couldn't help but feel a bit flustered being so close to him, but she focused on her training. Her father had taught her well, and she wanted to show that she could handle this.