In this Discord roleplay session, Naomi is escorted by Correctional Officer Argent to an unexpected room that reminds her achingly of home—filled with incense, river salt scent, fine sand, low lacquered tables, paper lanterns, and calligraphy. Rather than a harsh interrogation room, this feels purposefully designed to evoke her past.

Argent reveals he knows her family name: Kawakami, explaining their peoples once shared lands and were both adversaries and allies. He's brought her here not to interrogate, but to understand if she's dangerous or simply caught in forces beyond her control.

The conversation centers on what Naomi "saw." But Naomi's evasive, having promised her friends Vita and Thalga not to speak of it, but earlier let slip details about "purple eyes" and something in the showers. Argent presses gently—he notes that Vita spoke similarly, and that Naomi deliberately says that she saw "nothing".

The focus shifts to Gilliam, whose anger Naomi could hear through the walls as she was escorted away. Argent reveals troubling details: during Gilliam's arrest at a bathhouse, he was surrounded by a purple aura, his anger was unprecedented, he was seen arguing with a young man, and even after the young man left, his rage only intensified. Argent mentions that the young dragonlord and two sentinels pacified him. Naomi is concerned about how secure the doors are and how strong Gilliam might be.

Argent suspects Gilliam "brought something with him, a presence on the edge of the air." The tea between them ripples unnaturally—both notice it. Argent asked Naomi to tell him everything she noticed—every motion, every nuance—about this mysterious presence.

Naomi describes what she saw as "a ripple"—like witnessing a wave in the ocean or a disturbance in a pond. You know something caused it, but you cannot see what. Only where it came from.

Argent does not respond immediately. The ripple in the tea fades. The surface becomes still—too still. He finishes his tea in silence and rises. Whatever he hoped to hear did not surface. He has no further questions. He will return her to her cell.

But Naomi asks: What does he know of their shared history? Of the Kawakami clan?

Argent stops at the door. When he looks back, there is disappointment in his eyes—she is asking questions rather than answering his. But he tells her: She is persistent. That is a Kawakami trait, according to their records.

He reveals that once, the Kawakami and Kawashimo were conduits—the unseen did not speak to them, but through them. Until Minako Kawakami rewrote that part of their shared history.

Naomi stands, exhausted. She explains: she is not her ancestors. She values honor, but she made a promise to her friends. She cannot share details because she does not yet know who to trust. Yesterday she trusted someone—someone everyone trusts—and it ended with them imprisoned despite preventing a tragedy. Though she admits: if they weren't there, there would likely not have been a tragedy to prevent.

She asks to know the Kawashimo side of the story someday, in a more friendly setting, after she has earned his trust. She bows respectfully. Argent exhales. For the first time, something like approval crosses his features—brief as a ripple, then gone.

He tells her: honor is a shield she raises between them, not a bridge. He quotes Siegfried the Uniter: "Honor unites, it never divides. For the greatest dishonor is the fool's choice of solitude when unity is within reach." As he speaks the word "fool," the tea ripples again. Clearly. Unmistakably.

He acknowledges her loyalty—protecting her companions even when exhausted, even when it costs her the answers she seeks. That is commendable. He understood what she said between the lines: "If we weren't there, there would likely not have been a tragedy to prevent."

Something happened. Something was stopped. Perhaps something that was nothing where something should have been.

She has given him a piece of the puzzle, even as she claims she cannot share.

And despite the shield between them, something unites them: she claims she is not her ancestors. In that regard, they are the same. Argent is not like his—because his would have slain her as punishment for what Minako took from all of them. Or rather, what Kawakami-Kaijinhi—the Ocean Dragon's Consort—took.

Can one blame the child for not knowing what has not been taught? For the history that was rewritten? One that left a void where stories should have been—much like the nothing she saw, where something should be?

Perhaps that is why she is here.Trust flows two ways, he says. Like upstream meeting downstream. Kawakami and Kawashimo.

He sees her exhaustion. He understands her position. But she must understand this: he is not Kawashimo-ue in this place. Not to her. Not now.

He is Argent—her correctional officer. When she leaves this room, she will refer to him as such. Nothing more. Nothing less. For now, this conversation is over.