The rain had softened overnight.
It was still there - a light, steady drizzle that misted the air and caught the light in ways the heavy downpour never could. Thin rays of sun pushed through the cloud cover and filtered down through the canopy, scattering into pale gold shafts that landed on the wet wood and made everything glow. The platforms were slick but walkable. The air slled nice - washed out, earthy and slightly sweet.
Raizen walked between Kenzo and Saffi. All three of them wore leather boots now - proper ones, treated for rain, laced tight. Kenzo had found thick coats with fur inside sowhere, Raizen didn’t ask where. The boots alone felt like a luxury after last night.
Kenzo stretched as he walked. Long, exaggerated stretches - arms over his head, shoulders rolling, neck cracking from side to side. He let out a groan of satisfaction that echoed off the nearest trunk.
"Man" he said. "I don’t know what it was about last night, but I slept like a rock."
Raizen kept his eyes forward.
"Seriously" Kenzo continued. He twisted at the waist, popping sothing in his spine. "I hit the mattress and I was gone. Didn’t even dream. Just - lights out." He shook his head in wonder. "Must be the Ukaian fresh air." Raizen mumbled.
"Must be" Kenzo agreed.
Saffi said nothing.
The Academy was their destination - Kenzo had ntioned a "special lesson" over breakfast with the kind of vague enthusiasm that ant he either didn’t know the details or wasn’t allowed to share them. Either way, Raizen hadn’t pushed. He had other things on his mind.
They passed through one of the market bridges - the wide, covered platforms that connected Ukai’s residential trunks to the market district. Vendors were opening their stalls despite the drizzle, unfurling canvas awnings and arranging goods on tables still beaded with rain. The sll of food mixed with wet wood and plant resin.
Raizen slowed down.
"Hold on" he said. "Give a minute."
Kenzo raised an eyebrow. Saffi glanced at him.
"I need... Uh... I need to pick sothing up."
He ran off before they could ask questions and crossed the bridge to the far side, where the shops were smaller and pressed close together. He found the one he was looking for by the display in the window - the sa display he’d noticed the first ti, the rows of flowers preserved in clear resin, each one suspended in its own small block like an insect caught in glass.
Except the display had changed.
New flowers had been added. Raizen stopped in front of the window and looked.
The ones from before were still there - so simple, familiar species he recognized from Ukai’s gardens and walkways. But between them, filling the gaps and occupying the higher shelves, were flowers he’d never seen. Complex things. Layered petals that spiraled inward in patterns too perfect to look natural, each layer a slightly different shade - deep violet bleeding into silver at the edges, burnt orange fading to a white so cold it almost looked blue. One had petals that curved backward like a wave frozen mid-break, each one lined with veins of pale gold that caught the light from the window and scattered it into tiny prisms across the shelf.
They looked like they’d been designed rather than grown. Like soone had sat down and drawn the most beautiful flower they could imagine, then willed it into existence.
The resin held them perfectly. Every detail preserved - every vein, every gradient, every curl of every petal. Frozen in ti. Permanent.
Raizen pushed the door open.
The shop was still small and still warm. The sa shelves lined the walls, the sa soft light ca from the round window set into the ceiling. And behind the counter, the sa old man - patient, with hands that moved carefully and eyes that noticed the smallest things - looked up from his work and smiled.
"Ah" he said. "Sir. You’re back."
Raizen returned the smile. "Oh, don’t call sir!"
"You must treasure your custors, no?"
"I guess so..." Raizen answered, then pointed back. "The flowers in the window. They’re new."
"Arrived this morning." The vendor set down the small tool he’d been holding - a thin blade used for trimming stems before preservation. "Beautiful, aren’t they? I’ve been doing this for almost fifty years, and so of these species - I’ve never seen them before."
He said it with the quiet pride of a man who took his work seriously and was genuinely pleased when the work surprised him.
"But yours" the vendor continued, and sothing shifted in his tone. Not concern, exactly. More like the voice of a craftsman encountering sothing that didn’t follow the rules he’d learned. "Yours were... interesting."
Raizen tilted his head. "Interesting?"
"The structure." The vendor held up his hands, miming sothing delicate. "When I prepare a flower for resin, I check the fibers. You have to - if the structure is weak, the resin will crush it if it’s too thick, during curing. Frail petals collapse. Thin stems buckle." He lowered his hands, palms up. "Sa thing, if the fibers are too strong, the resin won’t hold properly. Your flowers didn’t have either problem."
He paused. Choosing his words.
"The fibers were different. More balanced than anything I’ve worked with. Denser." He raised his gaze, eting Raizen’s eyes. "Honestly, the resin was almost unnecessary. They didn’t need preserving."
Raizen frowned. "What do you an?"
The vendor’s brow creased - a small, involuntary frown. The expression of a man who’d noticed sothing he couldn’t explain and wasn’t sure he wanted to try.
"No withering signs" he said quietly. "None. A cut flower - any flower - starts to die the mont you separate it from the plant. Within hours, you see it. Cellular breakdown. Discoloration at the edges. Softening. So I usually have to revitalize so of them, or even paint so edges." He shook his head. "Yours showed nothing. Even after half a day, they looked exactly the sa as when you brought them in."
Raizen stared at him. The black lotuses - the ones Enya had made, pulled from thin air with her Eon, impossibly detailed, impossibly perfect - didn’t wither. Didn’t die. Just stayed, unchanged, as if ti looked at them and decided to move around instead.
The vendor held the frown for another second. Then he waved his hand - a short, dismissive gesture, the kind that closes a subject because keeping it open leads sowhere uncomfortable.
"But what do I know" he mumbled. "Old age makes you see things that probably aren’t there, heh..."
He smiled again. Warr this ti. Then he turned toward the doorway behind the counter - the one leading to the back room - and called out.
"Hey, could you bring the box?"
He didn’t use a na. Just the request, directed at whoever was back there.
His assistant, Raizen thought. Or his wife.
Then he heard footsteps, the sound of sothing heavy being lifted - a shuffle, a grunt of effort, the careful placent of weight shifting from shelf to arms.
Then the door opened.
And from the back room, carrying a box with neat trays and drawers almost bigger than she was, Enya stepped out.
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