The convoy that had brought Kaiden's family into the valley that morning carried them back out of it that night, and the guardrail above the cordon was lined again.
The evacuees had stood at that wire that morning to plead.
They stood at it now to bow, hundreds of them in the dark with their phone lights raised in place of lanterns, and they held the bow while the cars rolled past at walking pace.
The joint feed was an hour dead by then. Kaiden had ended it with a thought when the Shogunate formally took over the site. Whatever the guardrail was doing, it was doing it for no camera.
"They'll hurt their backs," Kaiden murmured at the window.
"Let them," Aria said from the seat across, watching the lights slide by. "You bled for their homes, Kai. A bow is the least of what they want to give you."
"We did," Kaiden corrected. "Stop making it out to be as if it was only my doing."
Aria remained silent for a moment, then smiled. "I should've known you'd say that. But I disagree."
