Private Beneath Steam and Starlight

[Niijima Izumi]

The forest beyond Thule whispered with the cool breath of midnight. Crickets sang between the pines, and the moon hung low, an ivory lantern above a world wrapped in mist.

Niijima Izumi stepped lightly along the stone path, her geta clicking softly against the damp stones. The night’s silence felt heavier here, broken only by the gentle rush of water flowing down from the cliffs into the secluded spring below. Lanterns had been set around the pool, their soft amber glow mingling with the steam that drifted lazily into the night air.

Her body ached from the long hours under the gaze of others; the laughter, the songs, the careful practice and measure of every gesture. The geisha’s mask had been flawless, as it always was. But here, beneath the open sky, there was no need for masks.

Her face, free of the white powder and red paint, was softened by the moonlight. The black and red silk of her kimono clung faintly to her frame, the fabric carrying the faint scent of plum blossoms. Beneath her obi, her twin swords remained; habit made her keep them close, even now.

She knelt at the edge of the spring, dipping her fingers into the water. The heat licked at her skin, rising in small ripples that caught the reflection of the stars.

The bushido she followed spoke of discipline and restraint, of balance between strength and serenity. But tonight, she allowed herself to be simply Izumi—not the swordswoman defying tradition, not the elegant performer behind painted lips. Just a woman, breathing in the quiet, her heart finally still.

She exhaled, the tension of the day bleeding from her shoulders as she eased into the steaming pool. The world seemed to fade beyond the curtain of mist; no duty, no eyes watching, only the whisper of wind through cedar leaves and the sound of her own heartbeat.

TAG: Adelle Bastiel​

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[Adelle Bastiel]

Starlight. Adelle tilted her face up to the night sky, eyes staring as if she could see beyond the atmosphere of Thule. The quiet of night seemed to be the calmest time--at least when it was chosen. A gentle wind rustled the needles of the pines surrounding her, their canopy black against the dark blue patch of starlit sky. She adjusted the robe around her and continued down the path.

After a few nights of nightmares, Adelle had seen fit to find some suitable form of relaxation if only to give poor Phantom a break. She'd heard of these hot springs by word of mouth while on Thule and figured night might be the best option; the scarring on her body often drew unwanted attention at springs and bathhouses. Her feet took her down the stone path, while she let herself get lost in thought.

The feeling of another's presence startled her as she came upon the hot springs themselves. A woman with black hair, young to her eyes, sat in the waters, basking in the steam already. Adelle ground her teeth for a moment but her approach would've been noticed. It wasn't like she'd been trying to sneak her way to the springs. Better to acknowledge her intrusion on what was probably meant to be a moment of solitude.

"Forgive me," she said quietly. "I didn't think anyone else would be here at this hour. I can leave if you would prefer."



Niijima Izumi

 

[Niijima Izumi]

Izumi had heard the woman's voice before she could see who it was. Immediately Izumi's eyes snapped open, her golden brown eyes locking into the direction of where the voice had come from. Her eyes soften just a fraction at the brunette. She seemed a bit older than Izumi, the steam of the hot springs seemed to make her see the stranger having different colored eyes. Interesting, the woman mused, although she didn't really care about people's appearance. “There’s no need,” Izumi said, her tone low and even, touched by warmth but grounded in poise. “The springs are open to all who seek their peace. You will find no offense here.”

She turned her gaze back toward the shimmering surface, ripples distorting the reflected moonlight. “I find the quiet hours best,” she added after a beat. “The day belongs to duty. The night… to what remains of ourselves.”

Izumi shifted slightly in the water, resting her arms along the smooth edge of stone. “You look as though the world has chased you to its edge,” she said softly, her words neither judgment nor pity; merely observation. “Sit, if you wish. The steam hides more than scars.” Izumi's own eyes swept over the obvious scars that the stranger wore like badges on her body. Izumi had a few scars too, though they were on her back, out of view from the stranger's sight.

Her eyes flicked toward Adelle once more, the faintest smile tugging at her lips. “And if you truly meant to sneak, you would not have been heard.”

TAG: Adelle Bastiel​

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[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags:
Niijima Izumi​

The woman spoke with a calm and quiet authority, the kind of tone that Adelle had only heard from the women holding or wed to those holding positions of power on Corellia. Adelle inclined her head and disrobed, folding the garment neatly with the care that'd been drilled into her from CorSec and the Jedi, before entering the springs. She hissed appreciatively and eased herself further into the waters, a small smile at the corner of her mouth.

"Yes, well, I have been known to startle some of my peers simply by walking up behind them," she said. Adelle found a spot next to the wall to sit, leaning her head back against the ledge. "As far as the edge of the world goes . . ."

She sighed, watching her breath form faint clouds before dissipating into the night air. "You're not wrong. It's been a long road back."

Silence fell but Adelle didn't think it was an uncomfortable silence. Nighttime seemed to invite reflection, a quiet that listened, and the waters of the springs were soothing. She could feel tension in her shoulders and neck easing, her lungs breathing deeper.

"You speak poetically," Adelle said after a bit. "Am I right in guessing the duty of day requires you to move in the circles of the powerful?"

 

[Niijima Izumi]

Izumi nodded her head as she listened to Adelle speak, though she turned her head as not to stare at the woman disrobing. Even though she was not at all shy of such things especially in front of other women, she understood that not everyone would share her sentiment. She waited for her companion to dip her feet in the water at least before Izumi's own eyes would turn to meet that of hers, still refusing to stare too intently. "I guess I cannot say that I am not surprised," the woman answered softly, as Adelle spoke of when her mere presence could and would startle some. In fact, had Adelle met Izumi as Sakurako, the geisha, perhaps she too would be startled.

At least Izumi was in her so-called "natural habitat".

At the mention of how she spoke, the raven-haired woman thought for a moment, assessing whether she should say much about her "profession". She had hid her identity as Sakurako from everyone, including those she called her closest...though admittedly those were now few in numbers. Allowing a minute of silence to pass while she chose her words carefully, she thought it best to assess the stranger a little more before making a definitive decision of whether to disclose what she had gone to great lengths to protect. It was a part of her that she was neither ashamed of nor proud of. It was simply that the geisha world had their own rules; rules which those who found themselves in the center dare not challenge. "You can say that..." she continued in the same tone "...I've had the luxury or the misfortune, depending on how one defines those terms to have met some politically powerful people..." This was perhaps the most vague she could be, given the circumstances.

It was at that moment that another person would enter the premise, a girl with large emerald eyes and light chestnut hair tied into two pigtails on either side of her head. She wore a plain robe of cotton and wool. In her hand was a wooden tray, with a bottle of sake and a matching porcelain cup. Izumi had come to this hot spring whenever she finished her geisha duties and was in the area. It was the only solace she found among the hustle and bustle of the city. The girl put down the tray behind Izumi and bowed her head. Izumi nodded her head in silent appreciation, before turning to Adelle. "In case this is your first time here, this place is run by a bar owner in the city. If you would like anything to eat or drink, just let Maki here know and she'll bring it to you." She nodded again to the girl, smiling at her.

It was the best indulgence to be able to relax in a hot bath and drink; the only two things that could take out all of the world's stresses.

TAG: Adelle Bastiel​

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[Adelle Bastiel]

Niijima Izumi​

"You can say that..." she continued in the same tone "...I've had the luxury or the misfortune, depending on how one defines those terms to have met some politically powerful people..." This was perhaps the most vague she could be, given the circumstances.

No specifics, no details of the nature of how such meetings came about. Fair enough, Adelle supposed. Not everyone that either got to or had to rub elbows with the high and mighty wanted their usual business made known to strangers. The CorSec ops she'd done to protect the Head of State or even the Prime Minister weren't exactly things she wanted to broadcast either.

"In my admittedly limited experience," she said, "misfortune seems more apt. The powerful tend to forget the reality outside of their own world."

A girl wearing a simple robe and carrying a wooden tray with a bottle and cup on it approached the springs. She placed the tray down behind the other woman, bowing, and the other woman addressed her again.

"In case this is your first time here, this place is run by a bar owner in the city. If you would like anything to eat or drink, just let Maki here know and she'll bring it to you." She nodded again to the girl, smiling at her.

"Thank you," Adelle said. She'd had "'fresher beers" before and always found it a revitalizing experience. A cold drink and hot springs sounded better: she wouldn't have to worry about water getting into the drink. "Maki, was it? I'd like a pint of Corellian ale if you have it, please."

She wasn't sure about the customs and social norms for Thule but figured that being as polite as she could never hurt. The heat from the water seeped into her muscles, loosening tension she hadn't realized she'd been carrying. This had been a good call.

"You come here often then?" she asked the other woman after enjoying a silent moment.

 

[Niijima Izumi]

Izumi listened quietly as Adelle spoke, the steam drifting between them in slow, shifting veils. There was something familiar in her words; experience earned too close to power to romanticize it. Izumi gave a small nod, more agreement than acknowledgment.

“That sounds right,” she said softly. “Those who live surrounded by influence rarely notice what it costs others to uphold it. Misfortune has a way of finding the gaps.”

She glanced toward the girl with the tray and inclined her head in thanks, fingers curling around her cup once they were alone again. The warmth of the spring loosened her shoulders, tension easing now that she no longer needed to perform for anyone.

“At this hour, I do,” Izumi answered after a moment. “When I’m able to.”
She let out a quiet breath. “Night is kinder. During the day, places like this invite attention. Questions I don’t always wish to answer.”

Her gaze drifted to the dark outline of the trees, moonlight catching on the rising steam. “Here, I don’t have to be anything in particular. No music. No blade. Just… quiet.”

She looked back to Adelle then, her expression open, observant rather than guarded. “You don’t seem like someone who ever fully lets their guard down,” Izumi added gently. “Even now.”

A faint smile crossed her lips. “Still, it makes the silence easier to share. With the right company.”
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[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Niijima Izumi

Night is kinder. During the day, places like this invite attention. Questions I don't want to answer.

That struck a chord with Adelle far more than she cared to admit. The more the woman spoke about the lack of expectations at this hour, the more Adelle felt understood. Quiet, peace, a chance to escape scrutiny—Nighttime was the only time Adelle felt like she could relax a bit. Adelle slipped further into the hot water, letting it rise to her neck.

“You don’t seem like someone who ever fully lets their guard down,” Izumi added gently. “Even now.”

A faint smile crossed her lips. “Still, it makes the silence easier to share. With the right company.”

Adelle' eyes flicked up to find the woman looking at her. Not scrutinizing but attentive. She stayed silent for a moment, choosing her answer carefully. "Experience can be a cruel teacher but you never forget the lessons."

She considered the woman's next sentence. "Then here's hoping we've both found the right company."

The silence settled and all Adelle heard was the gentle lap of ripples in the water against the edges of the hot spring, the rustle of needles from the pines high overhead, and the chorus of insects along the ground. The muted glow of lanterns around the spring only partially obscured the stars in the sky. At length, Adelle nodded her head at the cup.

"What's your drink of choice?" she asked. "I don't think I've ever seen an alcohol served like that."

 

[Niijima Izumi]

Steam curled thick between them, rising in slow white ribbons that softened the lanternlight into halos. Izumi let the quiet stretch without trying to fill it. Silence, when shared comfortably, felt rarer than conversation.

Adelle’s words lingered with her.

Experience can be a cruel teacher.

Izumi understood that kind of lesson. The kind written into muscle memory. The kind that lived in scars you stopped noticing until someone else stared too long.

“Yes,” she said quietly. “Cruel… but thorough.”

Her gaze dropped to the surface of the water, watching the lanterns ripple and break apart with each small movement. “Some lessons only come once. You survive them, or you don’t. There’s very little room for forgetting.”

For a moment, she thought of bruised knuckles on wooden posts, the sting of cold mornings, the ache in her wrists from hours of repetition. Of smiling through songs later that same night, as if her body didn’t feel like it had been split in two. Sword and silk. Discipline and performance.

Two lives. One spine holding them upright.

When Adelle nodded toward the cup, Izumi followed her gaze and finally lifted it from the stone beside her. The ceramic was simple; no ornament, just pale clay warmed by the steam.

“Atsukan,” she said, almost fondly.

She poured slowly from the small bottle, the liquid catching the lanternlight as it streamed into the cup. A faint curl of heat rose from it.

“It’s sake, warmed,” she explained. “Not meant to be rushed. You hold it like this...”

She wrapped both hands around the cup, fingers cradling it rather than gripping. “The heat seeps into your palms first. Then your chest. By the time you drink it, you’re already calmer.”

A small, quiet smile touched her mouth.

“It’s less about getting drunk and more about… settling.”

She took a sip. The warmth spread through her throat, gentle and steady, like the bathwater itself. No sharp burn. Just comfort.

“My teacher used to say cold sake sharpens the tongue, but warm sake softens the heart.” Her eyes lifted back to Adelle. “After long nights, I prefer softness.”

The steam drifted between them again, carrying the faint scent of cedar and mineral water.

“If you’d like, you’re welcome to have some,” Izumi added, tilting the bottle slightly toward her. “It pairs well with quiet company.”
[/COLOR]​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Niijima Izumi

Thorough indeed.

Adelle grunted softly, agreeing with the sentiment. She took a deep breath of the curling steam, feeling the warmth fill her lungs before slowly exhaling. Surviving those lessons . . . It always came at a cost, and often the price seemed too steep. Still, there was a reason she had rejected the memory therapy her doctors had offered. Adelle had spent too long not knowing what had happened, not remembering who she had been or what she had done.

Paying to forget it again now that it was painful seemed stupid.

Adelle tilted her head at the unfamiliar word when the woman lifted the cup from the stone it sat on. The way she described it sounded more like ritual than drinking alcohol. Taking time to let heat transfer from cup to hands and from hands to body, before a drop was even tasted. Stillness in a cup.

When she mentioned a difference between cold and warm sake, Adelle gave a rueful smile. If that was the case, it was probably for the best that there was no cold sake available. Her mouth had already gotten her into trouble more times than she could count back in her former Jedi Order.

But softness? Softness sounded good right about now.

The woman offered the bottle.

“Softness and quiet company,” Adelle said, leaning forward to take the offered bottle, “sound perfect.”

Adelle held the bottle with both hands for a brief moment, feeling the slightest bit awkward and clumsy about it, and let the heat seep into her skin before taking a sip. There was no bite, no burn to the alcohol—just warmth that bled into her jaw and down her throat. It settled in her chest and spread out. She could feel some of the tension she still carried ease a bit.

“Thank you,” she said, handing the bottle back. “It’s like you said. That beats drinking to dull sharp edges.”

 

[Niijima Izumi]

The bottle looked almost too small between Adelle’s hands.

Izumi noticed that first.

Not the scars. Not the way she moved like someone who expected trouble to step out of the trees at any second.

Just the carefulness.

Both hands around the glass. Shoulders slightly stiff. Like she was handling something unfamiliar but didn’t want to disrespect it.

It was… endearing, in a quiet way.

Steam rolled thick across the surface of the spring, drifting in slow sheets that caught the lanternlight and turned it molten gold. The water lapped softly against stone and fabric, a steady, sleepy rhythm. Somewhere deeper in the forest, an owl called once, low and hollow. Pine needles whispered overhead when the wind passed through.

The world felt smaller here. Softer.

Safer.

When Adelle said it beat drinking to dull sharp edges, Izumi let out a breath that turned into a faint, knowing huff.

“Yeah,” she murmured. “That usually ends badly.”

She accepted the bottle back, their fingers brushing briefly; calloused meeting calloused. Not the hands of someone sheltered. Not the hands of someone ornamental.

Hands that had held weight. Weapons. Responsibility.

She poured slowly, careful not to spill. The sake streamed into the cup with a quiet glug, steam rising faintly from the ceramic.

“I’ve watched men try to drown themselves in stronger liquids,” she said, turning the cup in her hands. “Like it’s a contest. Like if they drink fast enough, hard enough, whatever’s haunting them will finally give up.”

A small shake of her head.

“It never does. It just waits for morning.”

She cradled the cup between both palms. The heat seeped into her skin almost immediately, chasing away the night chill that clung to her fingers.

Her shoulders dropped another inch without her realizing it.

“Atsukan’s slower,” she went on. “You can’t rush it. If you try to gulp it down, you just burn your tongue and look foolish.”

A faint smile curved her mouth.

“So you’re forced to sit with it. Hold it. Breathe a little first.”

She demonstrated without thinking; lifting the cup, pausing, letting the steam brush her face before taking a small sip.

Warmth spread through her chest like sunlight under the ribs. Not sharp. Not dizzying. Just steady.

Comforting.

“My teacher used to make this after training,” she said, voice softer now, threaded with memory. “We’d be bruised, exhausted, too stubborn to admit either. He’d shove a cup into my hands and tell me, ‘If you stay stiff like steel all the time, you’ll crack.’”

A quiet breath of amusement left her nose.

“I thought he meant I needed thicker skin. Turns out he meant the opposite.”

Her gaze drifted to the trees, watching steam curl between the trunks like wandering spirits.

“Steel has to be heated to be shaped,” she added. “Otherwise it just breaks.”

For a moment, the only sound was the water shifting around them. She leaned back against the smooth rock edge. The night air cooled her face while the spring kept the rest of her warm. Perfect balance.

“I think drinking to numb yourself is easy,” she said after a while. “Anyone can disappear for a few hours.”

Her eyes slid to Adelle, expression warm and steady.

“But choosing to stay present? To soften instead of shut down?”

A small, almost shy smile.

“That takes more courage.”

She lifted her cup slightly in a quiet, informal toast.

“To… softness,” she said. “And quiet company.”

The lanternlight flickered across the steam, the forest humming gently around them like the world itself had decided to lower its voice.
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[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Niijima Izumi

She had no drink to toast back with so Adelle inclined her head when the other woman raised her glass to softness and quiet company. The night settled in around them, close like a soft blanket. Wind sighed overhead, a cool counterpoint to the hot water and steam. Water lapped at the edges of the spring.

Quiet. Inviting. Soft.

Steel had to be heated to be shaped, she’d said. Adelle knew that from Warpriest Prime’s lessons in the forges of the Ark. It had to soften or you just created stress fractures that would affect the integrity of whatever you intended to forge. If it wasn’t soft enough, you couldn’t form a proper billet with the various metals you needed—they wouldn’t weld securely.

She’d certainly tried numbing herself. It had started with the sedatives to sleep—doctor’s orders, heavily monitored and regulated. But during the placebo weeks, alcohol took their place. It felt like sleeping on a bed of vibroknives, she needed something to make it bearable, to blur the edges of memnii.

The woman said staying present and soft took courage. Those were things Na’an had already told her to do.

And now Na’an was gone and she still lacked the courage.

“Only softness I’ve had in a while,” Adelle said quietly, “has been my spukami, Phantom. Black furred feline, highly intelligent, even more stubborn. She’s been… good. Warm, like the sake.”

She gave a small, knowing smile. “And quiet company.”

 

[Niijima Izumi]

Izumi’s expression softened at the mention of Phantom.

“A spukami,” she repeated, not understanding at first the foreign term. “Black fur, stubborn, intelligent.”

A faint smile danced across her lips.

“Then she sounds like good company.”

There was the faintest flicker of genuine interest in her eyes now; not intrusive, not overeager. Just curious.

“I’ve always preferred felines,” she admitted. “They don’t give their trust easily. When they choose to stay, it means something.”

She shifted slightly in the spring, water rippling outward in slow circles that caught the lanternlight. Steam curled around her shoulders, blurring the line between silk and skin.

“Warm and quiet,” she echoed. “That kind of presence can steady a person more than most realize.”

Her gaze drifted toward the trees for a moment, thoughtful.

“Animals don’t ask you to explain yourself. They don’t need you to be anything other than what you are in that moment.” A pause. “There’s a kindness in that.”

“You mentioned her being stubborn,” Izumi continued, a subtle note of amusement threading her tone. “Does she follow you everywhere? Or does she pretend it’s her idea to stay near you?”

A small smile.

“I imagine she'd be quite opinionated.”

As the words settled, there was a faint sound from beyond the lantern glow; a soft crack of a twig deeper in the trees. Not close. Not immediate. But deliberate enough to notice.

Izumi’s eyes shifted briefly toward the darkness, then back at Adelle.

“Tell me about her,” she said, voice easy again. “What does she do when you can’t sleep?”
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Adelle Bastiel​

 

[Adelle Bastiel]

Tags: Niijima Izumi

Adelle huffed a laugh when the woman said she imagined Phantom to be quite opinionated.

“On everything. She does follow me everywhere but—” How did she explain their bond in the Force? The fact that Adelle knew what Phantom thought and felt, and that Phantom knew the same of her. “But she always has that air of ‘I’m doing this because I decided to.’”

Somewhere nearby a twig snapped. Adelle turned her head toward the sound without completely looking in its direction, searching the area with her Force awareness. But she found nothing. An animal, maybe? Her nightmares had her more on edge than she thought.

The woman asked about Phantom and the methods used when Adelle found herself sleepless. She hesitated—talking about her nightmares usually led to other symptoms of her PTSD arising but this was talking about Phantom. Maybe she’d be alright.

“She can sense when things are off,” Adelle said, relaxing back into the water. “So she’s the one usually waking me up if I need to. Her weight on my chest is usually enough, combined with a headbutt to the face. If that fails, she likes to slowly prick her claws into my mouth. That has never failed to wake me up.”

Adelle took a deep breath of hot steam and slowly blew it out, feeling exhaustion starting to creep around the edges of her awareness. “After I’m awake? Or if I can’t sleep? She’s there, in my lap or on my chest, purring like thunder. And the world just . . . shrinks.”

“I was trying to give her a break tonight. She’s usually up if I’m up.”

Her mind thought back to the twig that had cracked earlier. Phantom was quieter than that but Adelle wouldn’t put it past the spukami if she had tracked her all the way here.