Ame-an was filled, as it was every night, with the soft light of a bare bulb falling across the amber-worn counter.
Miyabi tilted her Ramune bottle and sent the marble rolling, watching its path with no particular focus.
No need to think about anything. Simply being there, in that time.
Kareno sat beside her, watching the movement of Miyabi's hand in silence.
The proprietor brought the set meal without a word. Miyabi took up her chopsticks. The usual interval.
And then — the door opened.
Miyabi and the proprietor both looked toward it at almost exactly the same moment.
And at almost exactly the same moment, both of their expressions clouded — just slightly.
"My, you're here again today."
Hanabishi Tsuya. Crimson kimono pinned with characteristic precision, beautiful maki-e yatate at her hip.
Paying no notice to the proprietor's distinctly unwelcoming face, Tsuya made her way to the counter.
Her gaze came to rest on Kareno.
"...You look rather different."
Tsuya took in Kareno's face, the line of its neck, the contour of its left arm — quietly, tracing each in turn.
Then her eyes dropped to what Kareno was wearing, and her brow furrowed.
"You've been coming together so nicely, and that outfit undoes all of it. What a waste."
Kareno did not answer. It only received Tsuya's gaze, quietly and without resistance.
"Come along. You're going to accompany me."
Tsuya took Kareno's left hand without hesitation and drew it to its feet.
Miyabi set down her chopsticks and stood — with a face that made her feelings clear.
Tsuya said nothing aloud. But she had known from the start that pulling Kareno would bring Miyabi along.
―――
...…
―――
Five-Heaven Corridor was one of the most brilliantly lit places in all of Eight-Hundred-Eight.
Not the clamour of Neonodo — this was a corridor where commercial light fell in neat, ordered rows.
Kimono, obi, accessories — shops where elegance and the present day were woven together lined both sides, and the clothing of the people moving through it was bright to the eye.
"...Not a place I have much to do with."
Miyabi murmured it under her breath.
"That much is obvious, but be quiet and follow along."
Tsuya moved through the corridor at a confident pace. Kareno walked beside her in silence.
―――
...…
―――
Tsuya held one kimono after another up to Kareno.
A vivid crimson. A beautifully worked indigo. An elaborate design with gold-thread embroidery.
Kareno did not move.
Each time Tsuya held one up, Kareno shook its head quietly.
Not refusal — more as though it simply felt: not this one.
Tsuya raised an eyebrow slightly — and then Kareno's feet stopped.
What stood before it was a kimono the colour of pale ink-wash.
Plain. Unassuming. Nothing that could be called striking.
Yet the fabric was soft to the touch, and its wide sleeves fell in a way that would naturally wrap around the absence of a right arm.
Kareno did not move.
"...This one, then."
Tsuya pressed her lips together with a look of mild dissatisfaction.
But seeing that Kareno would not be moved, she let out a small breath.
"...Well. Not bad, I suppose. If anything, it suits you — one could say that."
She said nothing more.
―――
...…
―――
Miyabi sat in the plaza of Five-Heaven Corridor, watching the electronic display with unfocused eyes.
Streaming across it: the "perfect haiku" AI generated without pause.
Tens of thousands per second. Orderly. Unfaltering.
Miyabi watched the flow with no particular expression.
She did not like this place. Too much light. Too many people. No trace of a verse anywhere.
And then — small footsteps drew near.
"...Um, excuse me. Miss."
A child.
Round eyes looking up at Miyabi with careful, hesitant steps.
"...Yes?"
"Um — you were there before, weren't you. When the droids were going wild."
Miyabi did not answer.
But she did not leave, either.
"I was scared and I couldn't run and then you said one thing and they all fell down. So I was saved. So — thank you very much."
The child bowed deeply.
Miyabi, unusually, found no words.
She was not accustomed to being thanked. She never looked back after a fight, so gratitude had never found its way to her before.
"...It was nothing."
That was all she said. But she could not leave.
The child held out a small hand.
In the palm lay a single piece of aged paper.
"Here, you can have this. I found it because it was pretty — as a thank-you."
Miyabi narrowed her eyes and looked at the paper.
The edges of the washi were old and yellowed — but the gold-thread embroidery had kept its colour, bright even now.
A delicate design worked in fine thread: "KinkakuTemple."
Where that memory belonged to, this city no longer knew.
Yet that it had been made by human hands — that was something her fingertips understood the instant they touched it.
Miyabi looked at it in silence for a moment, then received it quietly.
And lowered her head, just slightly.
No words.
The child smiled happily and ran off with light, small steps.
Miyabi looked up at the electronic display.
The AI's verses went on streaming, unchanged.
With the weight of the bookmark against her chest — even in this place of too much light, something that no calculation could produce was quietly breathing.
The child's smile settled, gently, in the depths of Miyabi's chest.
―――
...…
―――
Tsuya and Kareno returned to the plaza.
Kareno stood quietly in its pale ink-wash kimono.
The look of it had nothing to do with brilliance — yet it carried a stillness that suited the name Kareno had been given.
The missing right arm was wrapped within the wide sleeve, but not entirely hidden — a little short of whole, exactly as it was.
Miyabi glanced at Kareno for just a moment.
Tsuya: "...I knew you wouldn't say anything."
Miyabi: "...Not bad."
Tsuya's mouth curved upward, slightly.
She did not let Miyabi see it.
Battle Haiker Miyabi.
In the brilliant corridor, she found a single warmth — and rose, quietly, to her feet.