"Renko-san, don't you wonder where those little yosei come from?" Azuki's looms clattered busily. Patterns stacked up on shelves behind her desk. A book on textile dyes lay open in front of her, but she wasn't interested in it at the moment.

Renko, tongue between her teeth while she tried to make a new kanji beautiful, finished her brush stroke and looked up at her friend.

"I hadn't thought of it," she said. "Akira-san said they were his friends, didn't he? Why not ask ...