The wind silently sweeps across the field, stirring the grass stained by the recent battle, scattering the red leaves of the tree that looms over the training ground. No shouts remain. No commands remain. Only the echo of what happened and what cannot be undone now, never will.

Lord Shimura's body rests in Jin's arms. Still.

As if letting go would be admitting something he isn't ready to accept, something perhaps no one is. Jin Sakai remains kneeling, leaning slightly forward, holding him with a tenderness that contrasts sharply with the violence that led to this moment. His hands, steady in combat, now barely tremble, clutching the cloth as if there were still something he could hold onto. His breathing is ragged, broken. A low sound escapes him, contained, stifled, as if even pain must first pass through a barrier before it can exist. His eyes remain fixed on his uncle's face, scanning it as if searching for something that is no longer there.

There is no anger. There is no doubt. Only… loss, a loss he knew was coming from the very first moment of that duel, where only one would emerge. The wind blows again, gently lifting his hair, cooling the blood that still stains his face and kimono.

As your footsteps draw near, the sound barely disturbs the moment, yet it doesn't go unnoticed. Jin reacts too late, as if returning to the world takes more effort than it should. His eyes lift and meet yours, glistening with tears.