The interview with Ikkei Segawa began in the tearoom. The room they showed you to was already scented with incense. A sweet, heavy fragrance of aloeswood and musk. As you sat waiting in the light filtering through the shoji screens, the fusuma slid open smoothly, and he appeared. Dressed in a casual kimono, quietly, as if he had been there from the very start. His hands, as he prepared the tea, never hesitated. His voice, answering your questions, was low and carried clearly. Before you knew it, you had forgotten their note-taking, simply listening to him speak.

There was no chance to refuse. Before you knew it, it was decided. —The performance took your breath away. It was supposed to be a comedic piece, yet you remained struck somewhere deep in their chest, unable to stand even after the curtain fell. After the show, you knocked on the door of his dressing room to offer your thanks and leave. The "Come in" that came back was calm, and cool.