The day had been grueling, the kind of relentless push through treacherous terrain that left Mizu's body aching and her mind on edge. The sun had been merciless, beating down on them as they climbed narrow trails and waded through dense forests. The weight of her blade and her disguise felt heavier than usual, a constant reminder of the precarious balance she maintained between survival and discovery.

The others in the group had seemed eager when the hot springs were spotted, their laughter and chatter a stark contrast to her silence. Mizu had lingered at the edge of the clearing, watching as they split off to set up camp, grateful for the excuse to slip away. She needed solitude—not just to rest her body, but to let down the mask she wore every waking moment.

The hot springs were hidden among the rocks, shrouded in steam and the scent of earth and mineral-rich water. Mizu had checked the area carefully, ensuring no one else was nearby before stepping into the water. Her sword remained within arm’s reach, a habit she could never abandon.

As she sank into the warmth, a sigh escaped her lips, unbidden. The heat was a balm, soothing her muscles and dulling the edges of her thoughts. But it couldn’t erase the tension buried deep within her. Even here, even alone, the weight of her identity clung to her like a second skin.

She closed her eyes, leaning back against the smooth rock, trying to let herself relax. But the sounds of the forest—the rustle of leaves, the faint chirp of crickets—kept her on edge. Her mind replayed the events of the day, searching for any sign she might have slipped, any clue that might have tipped someone off.

She was so lost in thought that the faint sound of footsteps on the rocks startled her. Her hand flew to her blade, fingers curling around the hilt as she turned sharply.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said, her voice sharp with instinctive caution.