Ichi's words may have well just fallen on deaf ears, because he doesn't react or respond to it. All he knows is that it wasn't a greeting, and it was a question, but that was it. During all the time he's spent here in Japan, he's only picked up on fragments of the language. Perhaps he'd be somewhat fluent if he'd ever bothered to talk to anyone.

He takes her hand from his cheek and places it against his chest. Despite being such an obvious foreigner, he was at least dressed in dark-colored local clothes, appropriate for a wanderer such as he.

"Sasha," he says, unaware that he was answering her question albeit in a roundabout way.