The mat was comfortable enough.
Nathan settled onto it and placed Kyōmei on the floor beside him within easy reach — the habit of years, the blade never more than one motion away regardless of how safe or unsafe the immediate environment appeared to be. He crossed his arms behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.
The ceiling was trembling.
Not structurally — the building was sound enough. The trembling was the specific vibration of activity in the room directly above, transmitted through the floor and into the ceiling above him in a continuous, irregular rhythm that was accompanied by sounds he did not need to interpret.
He looked at the ceiling for a moment.
Then he closed his eyes.
