The pine forest slept alongside the autumn wind, and a fine drizzle moistened the bright moon. Minamoto Wakasei made his way through the woods, spotting from afar the single cluster of candlelight that flickered like a spark of fire amid the pitch-black trees. The patter of rain on pine needles fell like music. His expensive leather shoes squelched in the mud as he quickened his pace, pushing open the only lit cabin in the forest.
The candlelight wavered. An old man in white linen robes sat beside the hearth, a sheet of plain white rice paper spread out before him as he held a writing brush in deep thought.
"You notify me that Headquarters personnel are arriving, yet you hide out here in a forest cabin. You certainly have a lot of leisure time." Minamoto Wakasei found a towel with practiced familiarity to dry himself off, then sat cross-legged on the floor by the hearth beside the old man. "Why switched to painting? Not forging swords today?"
Chapter 288