Chirp. chirp.
The morning air was crisp as Kazuichi stepped out of his house, taking in a deep breath that seemed to clear the lingering fatigue from his body.
Sunlight filtered through the sparse clouds, casting a warm glow over the stronghold. The scent of dew and soil filled the air, a brief respite from the usual harshness of the wasteland. His legs felt stiff, but the urge to stretch them out on a morning walk tugged at him.
From the corner of his eye, he spotted Ryota and Jurou waiting near the barracks, both of them casually leaning against the wooden beams that supported the structure. Ryota, ever the composed and vigilant leader, straightened up the moment he saw Kazuichi approaching. Jurou, on the other hand, gave a lazy wave, his carefree attitude never fully masking his keen warrior instincts.
