Ryuki: "We should go."
Orimo: "Alright then. We'll be leaving. Take care."
The man nodded with a tired but genuine smile.
Zonza: "Yeah… you too."
As they stepped toward the door, Zonza's eyes caught them — something like a spark, fragile but real.
Zonza (softly): "When I see you two, I can hear it clearly… the drums of liberation. Go, young man."
They paused — the words hanging between them like distant thunder. Zonza bowed his head once, then stood straighter than before.
Orimo and Ryuki left the house and made for the center of the island, the place where the commander lived.
Ryuki: "That's the only fancy city here. I'm sure the commander lives there."
Orimo: "Let's go and break out on a rampage. I feel pity for that man."
Ryuki: "Me too."
Orimo: "Let's pay him back — I don't like being indebted to anyone."
Ryuki: "As you say, Captain."
They pushed through the road that led into the main city. The gates opened onto a riot of life: stalls crowded with colorful cloth, fish smoking on spits, vendors yelling prices, the scent of spices and oil in the air. Children darted between legs; a cart creaked under a mountain of fruit. Noise rolled over noise — a living tide.
They walked deeper in. Here there was more food, more light, more wealth — everything the village lacked. It glittered like a wound.
Orimo glanced around, jaw set. Ryuki's hand stayed near her swords, eyes scanning.
The commander's city pulsed with the comfortable confidence of those who were safe from hunger. And somewhere inside its heart sat the man who ran the island.