She seemed to have stepped out of nowhere—a brown-clad woman who had suddenly materialized within his line of sight. Unlike some of the wildlings he had come across in distant lands, this one was no towering giant looming several heads above him. She stood there, petite and poised. She lacked the noble grace of young Lady Kaede, and did not possess Karavira's irresistible allure. Yet, by Shinjou’s own reckoning, she was still a sight worth admiring.

His scrutiny, unabashed and far from subtle, had allowed his gaze to drift openly along the brunette’s silhouette. Once satisfied, he moved closer—just enough to speak without needing to raise his voice.

おい、そこのお前—向こう側には何がある the samurai asked, gesturing toward the flower-laden island with the tip of his snout. Beneath the delicate fragrance of citrus that clung to her, he caught a hint of briny air—an aroma that seemed to have latched onto her during a crossing. Or so he thought; perhaps he was mistaken.