When they raised their cups, a warm breeze swept through the room. The koto music played one last soft chord—then faded forever.
The ghost of Hana was seen no more. But from that day on, whenever Miya cleaned the tea ceremony room, she’d leave one freshly made sweet there, just in case. miya-chan no kyuuin life! 17
The next morning, Miya asked the Master about the box. He froze. “That was Hana. My grandmother’s personal attendant. She died suddenly before she could perform the tea ceremony for my grandmother’s farewell party. We… never opened her last prepared tea set.” When they raised their cups, a warm breeze
Being Miya, she didn’t call an exorcist. She grabbed a flashlight and a box of mochi (ghosts, according to urban legend, love sweets) and crept toward the room. But from that day on, whenever Miya cleaned
“Miya-chan, did you leave the shoji screens open to the tea ceremony room last night?”