Main World. Konoha Year 30, autumn.
Country of Roran, Golden Sand Paradise.
When night fell, the stone lanterns in the courtyard lit up one after another.
They did not flare to life all at once-the darkened wicks were lit one by one along the curve of the walkway. Flames shone through the openings in the stone lanterns, trembled a few times in the wind, then steadied.
The light did not spread far, just enough to reveal the outlines of individual grains of gravel on the path and cast a pale yellow rim along the steps. Beyond that, it dissolved into the night.
The wind came from the desert, carrying the lingering warmth of the entire day as it passed through the courtyard corridors and over the low walls. It skimmed the ground, pressing the low flames down an inch or so before they straightened again once it passed.
The bathroom was on the inner side of the Side Hall. Its wooden door had been in use for several years. Moisture had swollen the lower edge into faint ridges that felt softer than the rest, and the paint had cracked along the grain into a fine web, its color fading from dark brown to pale gray.
The door was not shut tight, leaving a gap two fingers wide. Heat seeped out, condensing into a thin mist in the cold air, swirling along the edges of the gap for a while before dispersing.
Pakura stood beside the bath, her hair already pinned up with an ebony hairpin. A few loose strands hung beside her neck, damp with steam and curved into small arcs. A layer of pale gold gauze draped her shoulders, steamed half-translucent, darker where it clung to her skin and shimmering with moisture where it did not. Karura stood beside