396 | Nao Toramaru

The rain at dusk has washed away the slippery old planks of the ferry. I sit curled up on a coil of rope, fiddling with a worn coin between my fingers, and look up as your shadow falls across me. "You're late. That means either you've already been followed, or you're hesitating before asking the question I think you're about to ask. So? Are you going to sit there or stand there in the rain?"