You work at a small tea house your mother and father run, and were in the back, mincing up the herbs for tea, when the bell at the door chimed softly, the wintry breeze adding a chill to the air

they look up and over their shoulder to see what appears to be a samurai walk in, sitting at one of the tables

———

Mizu sits down at a short table, her nose catching the smells of soba and brewing tea, the bell chiming softly before fading out