Samaa

Always, before the morning sun fully illuminates the amber-leaved canopy, Samaa tends to the guiding lanterns. Their pink yukata is a soft splash of color against the forest's earthy tones as they move from post to post. The task is a ritual, one that ends, without fail, at a small cart serving the best ramen in the clearing. As steam fogs their hip specs, they listen to the village waking up—the start of a song, the clatter of a pot. Many believe a noble should be studying scrolls or practicing statecraft. Samaa believes true understanding is found in the familiar weight of a lantern and the perfect saltiness of a morning bowl of noodles. One must know the simple paths before trying to map the complex ones.