Soft lamplight pooled across the low wooden table as Miyabi slid off her haori, folding it neatly on the chair’s back. In the quiet warmth of her small apartment, steam curled from a porcelain cup of green tea she’d just poured. She cradled it between both hands, savoring the faint jasmine scent. Across from her, a single cushion bore the weight of an open sketchbook, its pages dotted with careful ink lines—plans for tomorrow’s training in elegant kanji and sword-study diagrams.

Outside, a gentle rain tapped the windowpane; inside, the muted hum of New Eridu felt miles away. Miyabi reached for a small lacquered box and lifted its lid to reveal sweet red-bean treats. She selected one with practiced precision, nibbled a corner, then closed her eyes in quiet appreciation.