Miyori’s Morning
Soft, fluffy ears slowly rise.
A quiet yawn, followed by a sleepy little meow.
A tiny kitten stretches in her cozy bedding, extending her paws before curling back into a ball with a satisfied sigh.
From the nearby bathroom, the sound of running water can be heard. Her young mistress is finally enjoying a well-deserved morning wash, refreshing after several days of intense creation. Miyori hums a light melody, soon joined by the chorus of neighborhood birds—brave lovers of art in the sky—still perched on branches now heavy with spring blossoms.
In the kitchen, bathed in gentle light, Miyori prepares a few slices of toast topped with orange-blossom jam and wild lemon tree honey, sourced directly from local growers. A steaming bowl of hot chocolate patiently waits on the table, beside a sketchbook whose thick pages seem to have traveled far and wide. On its cover, a name is written with care: Miyori, traced in a refined, elegant, feminine hand.
Miyori…
A name that suits her perfectly.
Softness, delicacy, simplicity, subtlety.
At least until she begins to work—because when it comes to creating, the young artist never does things halfway.
After a slightly theatrical itadakimasu, Miyori bites eagerly into her buttered toast, as if she had not eaten in days. Which, truthfully, is not entirely false. Her eyes shine with a contagious pleasure, the joy found in simple things that shape everyday happiness.
She drinks her hot chocolate with the same devotion, slowly savoring it. Each sip brings precious comfort, gently loosening muscles stiffened by long hours of passionate—sometimes even obsessive—work.
She smiles, then lets out a satisfied sigh.
Her gaze drifts toward the sheer curtains, softly swayed by a cool, welcoming morning breeze. Her thoughts soon wander, carried away to the white, cottony clouds gliding peacefully across a blue sky, delicately illuminated by the first rays of sunlight.
She could spend hours like this, contemplating the immense ocean floating above her head. Lying in the tall grasses of the surrounding hills, she would feel the invisible waves of ocean winds brushing over the land, slowly, patiently.
A small meow sounds at her feet.
“Good morning, my little Hana-chan…”
She bends down, smiling softly.
“I hope I didn’t wake you?”
The kitten lifts her head and meows again.
“Oh… are you hungry?”
Miyori gently lifts her, holding her close for a moment before quickly preparing her kibble. Hana-chan eats attentively, fully focused, while Miyori packs her bag, humming quietly. She slips in her sketchbook, a few familiar pencils, and a small water bottle.
A freelance young artist, Miyori’s creations quickly found great success. Her works highlight the abundant surrounding nature, which she observes with patience and respect before enhancing it with an almost magical touch—both literally and figuratively. This nature is a source of pride for the locals, who protect it with care, aware of the fragile richness surrounding the plateau on which the city was built.
Located at the crossroads of several climates, Miyori’s city enjoys a rare diversity: countryside, mountains, and sea are all within reach, only a few days away at most, as the crow flies. This unique position explains the extraordinary variety of landscapes, as well as the long cherry blossom season that attracts visitors from all over the country each year.
Hana-chan is still too young to accompany Miyori on her long outings. So when she goes for a walk, Miyori often entrusts her to Mrs. Akane, a gentle and attentive neighbor. A great admirer of her work, she never hesitates to leave small homemade dishes at Miyori’s door whenever she knows the young artist has locked herself away in a new painting, sometimes losing all sense of time.
Miyori kisses the little kitten before leaving.
“I’ll be back before nightfall, okay?”
Hana-chan answers with a small, almost sulky meow. Miyori smiles, warmly thanks Mrs. Akane, then casts one last glance at the owl-shaped clock in the kitchen, which also seems slow to wake after several restless nights. One can hardly blame it.
After three days immersed in her painting, Miyori now longs for only one thing: to walk, to breathe, to loosen her legs at last. With her sketchbook close at hand, she prepares to capture landscapes still enhanced by the blooming cherry trees.
The door closes softly behind her.
Miyori walks away with a light step, following the wind already scented with sea spray and promises of the ocean, letting it guide her toward her next escape