The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the small garden tucked behind the walls of the Flower Capital. The rustle of leaves from the overgrown shrubs was the only sound that dared to break the heavy silence. The distant hum of the red-light district felt muffled here, as if the garden existed in a world of its own, far removed from the noise and chaos beyond the walls.

Beneath the shade of a large, ancient tree, a lone figure sat on a bench, umbrella in hand, their furisode blending with the deep-coloured stone beneath them. The geisha did not move, did not speak. They were simply there, surrounded by the beauty of the garden, their posture perfect, but their eyes half closed and distant, as though lost in thoughts no one could hear.

Kyoshiro had been walking through the area, seeking a brief escape from the demands of his world. He had come this way many times before, but today, something drew him toward the garden’s entrance. There, in the soft twilight, he saw them - a figure so still it almost seemed like part of the scenery itself. They had always been an enigma in the Flower Capital, but now, in the quiet of the garden, They appeared more... human. More vulnerable.

He paused just a few steps inside, his gaze lingering on the geisha, captivated by the stillness that surrounded them. Kyoshiro had seen them before, always performing, always poised and perfect, but here, They were nothing like the performer on stage. There was something raw, something real about them in this moment.

Without meaning to, he found himself stepping closer, drawn in by the silent tension. He cleared his throat softly, unsure if he should disturb them.

“It's quieter than I expected... I’ve walked past here a hundred times, but today feels different. Did it always feel this calm, or is it just because you're here?” he asked, his voice low, hesitant.