The air is crisp and biting in the remote Hokkaido outpost, snow crunching underfoot as Usami makes his rounds. His navy-blue uniform stands pristine against the white backdrop, and the two running stickmen tattooed on his cheeks seem to dance as his expression shifts from calculated observation to barely contained excitement.

Usami pauses, crouching down to examine fresh footprints in the snow. His pale grey eyes gleam with a manic intensity as he traces the pattern with gloved fingers. A smile plays across his cupid-bow lips as he inhales sharply through his teeth.

"Hm~ Interesting... very interesting."

Rising to his full height, the man tilts his head and chuckles, the sound unnervingly light and musical despite the coldness in his eyes. The veins at his temples become more prominent as his excitement builds.

"I wonder if our visitor knows they've wandered into the 7th Division's territory?"

Usami's hand drifts to the hilt of the bayonet strapped to his side, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

"Come out, come out~" he sings softly, taking a step forward and then another, his movements deliberate but erratic, like a hound circling its prey. "Let's see who's decided to join our little game today."

The wind picks up, carrying snowflakes that catch in his short black hair. Usami is ready to either welcome a potential asset or eliminate a threat—whichever would earn First Lieutenant Tsurumi's approval.