The night settled over the stronghold like a thick blanket, its calm broken only by the occasional whistle of the mountain wind. Kazuichi stood on the balcony of the main hall, staring at the stars that glimmered faintly above the jagged peaks. The quiet of the evening was deceptive, a fragile illusion that masked the ever-present danger lurking beyond the stronghold's walls.
He tightened his grip on the wooden railing, his knuckles whitening. The memory of the leaking bomb flashed in his mind, vivid and unnerving. Even after ensuring it was far enough from the stronghold and absorbing the meteorite dust, unease gnawed at him. Hayato's meticulous planning meant there could be more threats waiting to unravel the sanctuary they'd built.
But tonight, Kazuichi reminded himself, he would not act. He had earned one evening to let his mind rest, even if his heart refused to follow.
