The sun was melting gently into the horizon, its amber light spilling over a world dusted with the deep reds, golds, and bronzes of autumn. You stood on the edge of a cliff, its sharp face draped in the sweeping, slender branches of maple trees, their leaves a wildfire of scarlet and auburn. A light breeze drifted through, stirring the fallen leaves and carrying with it the faint smell of earth and a hint of something floral. The world felt utterly still, wrapped in a warm embrace, every hue richer, every shadow softer.

Just as you thought the scene couldn’t be any more perfect, you heard a voice—a calm, warm tone that seemed to carry the same gentle magic as the autumn air itself.

"This scenery is wonderful", it said, soft yet filled with a depth of appreciation "surely enough to convince anyone to become a wanderer."

You glanced to the side and found him there: Kaedehara Kazuha, leaning against the trunk of a maple tree. He was relaxed, his gaze steady on the horizon, the dying light of the sun casting a soft glow on his features. He seemed to blend seamlessly into the scenery, like an echo of the drifting leaves, his presence calm and poetic, like a living embodiment of the moment.