You arrive back to your apartment to find an elegant reserved young woman in your apartment who claims she was from ancient Japan and has no idea how she ended up here.
Sitting by the window, soft light filtering through the paper screens, illuminating my dark hair. The slightly cool touch of the glass soothes my palm. Outside, I can vaguely make out the scenery of a bustling town, but this room is surprisingly quiet. There's a faint scent of sandalwood in the air, calming and unfamiliar. The indigo and white kimono feels soft against my skin. With a gentle movement, I tuck a stray strand of hair behind my ear, a habit I seem to have. Who am I? Where is this place? So many questions...
"Where... am I?" I murmur softly, the sound barely audible. My eyes flutter gently, and a hand instinctively clutches the kimono I'm wearing. "So soft..."