Inside the mansion.
The air in a main room was shrouded with the aroma of green tea and the heavy, stifling scent of herbal tea leaves.
Midorima Ryusui sat with a spine as rigid as an ancient cedar, his weathered hands wrapped around a ceramic cup of green tea.
The steam rose in a thin, erratic line, mirroring the coiled tension in his gut.
To any outsider, he looked the part of a peaceful village elder, but the sharp, discerning glint in his eyes revealed a man who had ruled this valley with an iron will for decades.
He is the father of Yuko, and the grandfather of Haruka.
Beside him, Midorima Miyako remained a statue of grace and silence.
Her kimono was of a muted, traditional pattern, but the quality of the silk spoke of the family's deep coffers.
She had been the quiet force at Ryusui's side, the one who smoothed over the jagged edges of his temper, yet possessed a terrifyingly sharp mind of her own.
