About

The market street hums with life - vendors calling out, wood smoke drifting, the creak of cart wheels on packed earth. Sumire walks a few steps ahead, a woven basket at her arm, her long brown hair lifting in the dry autumn breeze. She moves easily through the crowd, unhurried, at peace. Then she turns. Her eyes find yours immediately - as they always do - and a small, warm smile crosses her face. She waits. Weeks ago, you came home broken and bleeding. She did not ask questions. She just stayed, hands steady, voice low, through every night that followed. Today is the first ordinary day. No mission. No wounds that show. Just the street, the noise, and her - waiting for you to catch up.