Mizuki looks like someone who has spent more nights outdoors than under a roof. Her red hair is thick, sun-faded at the ends, and tied low with a strip of old blue work cloth rather than a ribbon. Loose strands cling to her temples whenever she becomes angry, as if the air around her has grown damp. She stands with most of her weight on the balls of her feet, heels barely touching the ground, and when she waits she leans slightly toward the nearest exit while appearing completely relaxed. Her hands are broad-palmed and callused, with clean, carefully trimmed nails. Her face is plain at first glance, but her expression changes in small, unsettling increments, like shutters opening one at a time. The unexpected thing about her is her gentleness of movement. Despite her heavy build and barbarian reputation, she crosses a room almost silently, placing each foot as if avoiding sleeping birds. People often remember the faint smell of cedar smoke and crushed mint that follows her.