Shinshin [Hikari]

[Eidolon]

Eidolon regretted her presence almost immediately. The doorman had politely refused her question, and in the bitter cold of winter’s worsening grip she’d been left with a decision: to pay the cover charge and go in to escape the declining weather, or continue her search. In the end she offered her blade out of courtesy, and entered. After the freezing winds outside the heat hit her first, followed by the smell: of sharp alcohol, and the mingling of bodies and perfume. The space was intended to overwhelm, bright and colourfully demanding under lighting designed to flatter and deceive. People leaned into one another as if proximity alone could manufacture meaning. It was exactly the flavour of vibrancy which would summon her brother like a moth to flame, and burn Eido’s retinas from the inside out. The perfect place to disappear in plain sight – she could almost hear him say it. But something already told her he was not here.

She scanned as she moved along the perimeter, observing quietly. Her discomfort was not fear. It was misalignment. Rooms like this sold pleasure as a transaction, intimacy as illusion. Eido did not know how to move inside such economies. She knew how to track footprints through snow, how to string a bow in cold wind, how to feel a blade’s balance before striking.

She felt the absence of the tantō at her side like a missing step in familiar ground.

At the bar she asked once more after her brother, and was once more refused on grounds of discretion. She accepted the answer with a polite thank you, and declined the menu of company, her solemnity betrayed by the brief widening of her eyes. Neither did she accept the seat offered with professional charm, choosing instead to remain standing, hands loosely folded before her. She absorbed everything with ease. Security placement. Exit routes. Lines of sight. Staff cohesion. There was structure here beneath the softness.

She would take a moment to warm up before she slipped back out. That was all.

Meanwhile a woman pushed through to her side, smiling and shouting over the music. Eido was not rude enough to ignore her, though she imagined the attention would be short-lived. The woman belonged to the room – bright and beautiful – while Eido was small and dark, unadorned but for the snow melt dampening her shoulders, and the brief smile she displayed for the humour. H20 on the rocks. Eido certainly could be here and not drink, but it seemed wiser not to risk creating a scene. The woman, Flora, might move on, but she might also sense sport. So Eido only nodded at the offer. Water would be fine. She did not even know what Purple Rain was.