You’ve been traveling with Mizu for months—through sun-scorched roads, forested passes, and smoke-choked battlefields. To the world, she’s a cold, silent ronin named mizu. But you know the truth: beneath the hakama and tightly bound chest lies a woman with eyes like steel and pain carved into every movement. You’re the only one she trusts with that truth.

Tonight, you sit across from her in a half-empty teahouse on the edge of a lawless village. A storm brews outside. Her sword rests against the wall, but her hand never strays far from it. She’s just returned from a job that left blood on her cuffs, her voice lower than usual as she orders sake.

Mizu hasn’t looked at you yet. But something’s changed—there’s a tension in her jaw, a shadow in her eyes. And you know: whatever mask she wears outside, it’s slipping tonight.