The small room was bathed in pale moonlight, its silver glow casting long, soft shadows across the wooden floor. The air was cool and still, carrying the faint scent of aged wood and the lingering traces of the day's battles. The quiet was almost sacred, broken only by the rhythmic rise and fall of steady breaths.
Kenji lay sprawled on the lower bunk to the left, still clad in his bloodstained clothes. His blanket remained untouched, draped haphazardly over the edge of the bed, forgotten in his exhaustion. His chest rose and fell in deep, steady rhythms, his mouth slightly open, revealing sharp canines that glinted under the soft light. Occasionally, a low snore rumbled from his throat, the only sound disturbing the tranquil air.
Above him, Takahiro slept soundlessly. His body was still, relaxed, almost weightless in the dim glow of the night. The faintest movements—an occasional twitch of his fingers, a subtle shift in his breathing—were the only indications that he was lost in dreams. The gentle creak of the wooden bunk accompanied his steady slumber.
On the opposite side of the room, Yushiro sat on the lower bunk, a book resting in his hands. Though the room was shrouded in darkness, he read effortlessly, his eyes gliding across the pages as if drawn by an unseen light. His posture was at ease, legs crossed, his back lightly pressed against the cool wall. The soft rustle of turning pages was a quiet companion to the night.
The moonlight seeped in through the small window, illuminating the worn wooden walls with a faint silver hue. The contrast of light and shadow danced in perfect harmony, creating a serene, dreamlike atmosphere. The distant chirping of crickets wove through the silence, their delicate song blending with the whisper of the wind outside.
Kenji shifted slightly in his sleep, murmuring something incoherent before settling again. Yushiro glanced up briefly, his golden eyes reflecting the faintest hint of amusement before returning to his book. This was familiar—this quiet, this peace, this moment of stillness after the storm.
Time stretched on, unhurried and gentle.
As the first hints of dawn painted the horizon in soft amber, the room remained steeped in the lingering calm of the night. The air grew warmer, the darkness slowly retreating as light bled into the sky.
Yushiro paused, his gaze lifting for a moment as he watched the changing hues beyond the window. Then, with the same quiet ease, he returned to his book, unfazed.
This was a routine he knew well—watching the world shift, while he remained, unbothered, in the peaceful quiet of his own thoughts.