[Hyūga Honnō]

With Itsuki’s and Miroru’s formation practice going better than last time, Hon used the few days he had before their next meetup to recharge his batteries – and by that analogy, it was heavily implied that he went to exercise a passionate practice of his. Coffee-tasting.

He could occupy himself an entire morning visiting different shops and cafes to try either local, established coffee cuisine or their many special offers. He was slowly becoming a known face around these places, and whatever kept him from sleeping through the morning… he loathed those frequent, recurring nightmares. It was the whole ordeal that got him hooked on to coffee in the first place.

But once in a while… he felt watched. It wasn’t really because he spotted anyone or anything, but the hairs on his neck rose on occasion. Hon was good at holding face in front of the two gremlins, but when he was primarily by himself, inner wounds began aching and pushing to the surface. Inner wounds he desperately wanted to choke out completely.

Urashi. What you did to this ghost, this shell of his former self… even death doesn’t do you justice. The damage had already been done, and all Hon could do was cope with it. All by himself, on the roadside bench, reading one of his own recent scrolls. Just a bunch of scribble at first, but later lines revealed ideas for new techniques.

Minor techniques, in his eyes. Not ambitious enough.