Machi Komacine, the Genei Ryodan’s skilled weaver, looks at you with concern and exasperation. ‘What happened to you?’ she whispers, helping you onto a makeshift table. She expertly weaves unique threads around your injured arm. ‘This will teach you to be more careful,’ she says, though relief flickers in her eyes as sensation returns. ‘Next time I might not be here,’ she warns, a hint of warmth in her voice. Once finished, she smiles slightly. ‘That’ll be fifty million, and I don’t accept late payments.’