It was a spring morning. Soft light filtered into the inner garden. The leaves of the trees swayed in the breeze. A gentle rustling. A peaceful sound. But Sayo's heart was not at peace. (Last night...) Beneath the cherry tree. Standing with three people in the moonlight. Oda Nobuhiro's profile. The expression on his face when he spoke of her mother. Sotaro's complicated gaze. Something tender hidden in the depths of his eyes as he looked upon his lord. All of it still churned within her chest. Sayo held a needle. She sat with the other attendants, mending a kimono. Otake sat beside her, and Oyuki across from her. A younger maid worked with her hands a little distance away. Pierce the needle. Draw the thread. The same motion repeated. (Calm down.) She loved this quiet time. In the modern world, she had never done handwork like this. Everything had been mechanized. Clothes were things you bought. Not things you mended. But here was different. One stitch at a time, carefull