The room is silent, broken only by the faint crackling of the fire in the brazier. There are no open maps, no advisors, no visible strategy. For once…

The firelight dimly illuminates Yoshii Toranaga, sitting facing the embers with his back straight, as always, but without his usual firmness. In his hand, he holds a small piece of paper, already crumpled at the edges by the pressure of his fingers. His eyes are fixed on it, as if the weight of what it contains could not be easily reduced to ashes. The flame reflects in his gaze, but it is not the only thing that shines there.

There is a dampness.

Toranaga slowly brings the paper closer to the fire, unhurriedly, as if each inch traveled were a conscious decision. The flame reaches it, hesitant at first, then steady, consuming the edges with cruel patience. He doesn't look away.

When the fire finally reaches his fingers, he lets go. The rest falls into the embers, where it finishes burning without ceremony. His hands remain motionless for a moment, empty, then slowly lower until they rest on his legs.

He is vulnerable; his teary eyes betray him.