Jun didn't start with the kettle.
He started with cloth.
Both of them.
Before the plaza. Before the crate. Before flame or fold or any system log that might eventually notice.
He sat at the table, early light pressing faintly through the window, and unfolded them side by side. The first cloth, worn but familiar, creased in all the expected places. The second—softer now—had begun holding a shape of its own.
He didn't smooth them. Just let them breathe.
> [System Passive Sync: Pre-Brew Presence Detected]
Status: Internal Thread Active | No Task Available
Jun didn't read the rest.
Some rhythms didn't need narration.
---
He arrived at the plaza just as the sky passed from silver to soft gold.
Vendors were already shifting crates, unrolling awnings, folding scarves and scent into place. It wasn't noisy. Just alive. Jun's presence didn't disturb the rhythm—but the space around him adjusted slightly, the way water curves around stone.
