"Kuzuryu Ashiko, at your service," she said, carefully cradling the crumbling, mulchy soil as she drew out a temporary container for the plant—a squat glass jar with a wide mouth and a heavily punctured lid. Her name wasn't famous, and only linked with nobility if one was aware of the fact that her clan had faithfully served the daimyo of a certain country for years, before the commoners revolted against their ruler and most of her relatives were killed just shy of two decades ago.

"Thank you very much for your help, sir," she said, bowing low once the plant was safely stowed away. "You have excellent timing." She beamed at him, bright and sweet.