The morning sun bathed the Grand Market of Umanda district close to Asashi family controlled area in golden light, the air thick with the smell of grilled fish, fresh melon, and sizzling oil.
Stalls lined the wide stone street in bright rows, silk awnings flapping like prayer flags. Vendors shouted prices, children darted between legs, and money clinked like wind chimes.
At the northern corner, old Hana-nee pressed her palm to a wooden bucket. Frost blossomed across the water in delicate spirals, freezing it solid in heartbeats.
"Fresh ice! 1 dollar a block! Keeps your fish cold till nightfall!" she called, voice hoarse but proud.
Two younger women worked beside her, laughing as they shaped perfect cubes with quick flicks of their fingers, as if they possessed sharp cutting powers.
