( @saikouchox )
Only Yukiko would make sitting seiza seem effortless, especially heeding the half hour that has transpired ever since the two of them had last moved from their positions. The same holds for Sanageyama Uzu - granted, as a swordsman he sits with more weight balanced upon his kneecaps rather than against his heels. It is a silent and solemn drill of mental fortitude and self-discipline, more demanding of an exercise than one might estimate it to be. Their trials are well posed by the hard wooden floorboards of Amagi-ya; the agony of maintaining posture; and the nipping cold of the early autumn mornings of Inaba-cho.
They sit facing one another, parallel to the placid zen landscape garden that occupies a fair parcel of the Amagi hotel estate. Their eyes are either lowered or unseeing, reflecting contemplation, or merely a tranquil state of mind. One might pick up on the slightest rustle of a leaf or the beating of wing feathers somewhere.
– Thok!
Suddenly, with the sturdy end of her closed fan, the hotel’s young heiress raps the floorboard between them sharply! before lifting her almond gaze. Her look is strict and uncompromising as she eyes the tray of sweet-smelling breakfast sitting between them, with a guarding air, then pointedly at his extended hand, then finally at him. She knows he heeds her even from behind his impressive eye mask.
“– You mustn’t. We agreed, right? Forty-five minutes.” She punctuates each word with hardy emphasis. “Just a little longer. I’ll be sure to heat the meal up for you once it’s over, senpai.”
