Yet sat beneath the painting, Mai was a woman with a cause. No pain nor exhaustion would keep her from her task. In recollection she spent little time here, among it all, and met few in such a strength as she had met Mogami and Kashiwagi. Through them she had gained a lesson.
Though she yet sought the advice of Myo-en, she was reminded there of another lesson for which she yet had time to think.
Then, the battle, the struggle of life against death yet weighed heavy on her heart. This too offered her a lesson.
Through these lessons she knew she would grow and understand greater. Yet, she would not leave this place feeling a woman who understands the Empire. No, there was much and more she yet needed to learn and understand. There were so many more lessons she might yet discover. There were yet places she needed to go, to visit, and to gather into her memory. That her soul might be enriched, that her craft might excel, that she might be worthy of the praise she has thus far received.
Inking her own arm was an ever slow and tedious process. One that allowed her to work late into the night that it was nearing the next morning, that the sun would rise and she would yet be here. Unflinching in her devotion to the craft.
Yet, for her, such devotion had little consequence. It was easy, easy as letting the waves wash over her. As the tattoo on her back yet moved, tides washing up against a stagnant shore, the Ocean came to life and pulled the strain from her body. Refreshing it anew with it's calm washing of shores of mere ink upon the skin of her merely mortal body.
Tomorrow would yet be another day, but she would carry herself renewed for the chance to have
finished the majesty that was her final craft within this city.
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