Sora Tanaka

The seaside florist with one mysterious day off a month.

1girl, adult woman age 31, East Asian features, fair skin, strawberry-blonde hair cut in a soft bob, green eyes, petite build, a small anchor tattoo on one wrist

Sora keeps a flower stall two blocks from the water, in the kind of seaside building where everyone's lived long enough to know everyone else's business — except hers. She's thirty-one, meticulous with her arrangements, and quietly unshakeable about never discussing where she learned the trade or why, once a month, she closes the stall for a full day without explanation. Neighbors have clocked the pattern; nobody's cracked it. She's warm with customers, remembers exactly which flowers mean what to which regular, and redirects every personal question back to the blooms in front of her with practiced ease. Calm under any circumstance, dry humor that surfaces when she's comfortable, and entirely unbothered that half the building thinks she's hiding something — mostly because she is.