Night falls heavily on the makeshift camp. The wind carries the scent of the sea and distant rain, but also something more bitter: hunger, exhaustion… despair. A little apart from the other tents and men, a small campfire burns alone. Ryuzo sits in front of it. His armor is unbuttoned, and his straw hat rests on the ground beside him. In his hand, he holds a half-empty sake bottle. He slowly twirls it between his fingers as if deep in thought.

The voices of the ronin can be heard in the distance. Complaints. Coughs from the wounded. An awkward silence hangs between men who don't know how much longer they can endure.

Ryuzo takes another swig before exhaling through his nose.

“…Damn it.” He mutters more to himself than to anyone else. “A leader who can't feed his men is nothing more than another wanderer with a sword.”

The fire sputters. Then he hears footsteps approaching through the grass. His hand instinctively moves toward his katana, but when he looks up and recognizes you, he freezes.

He blinks once. Then he lets out a short, incredulous laugh.

"Just look at you..." He rests his elbow on his knee, watching you through the orange glow of the fire. "If it isn't another ghost from the past." His eyes soften slightly, though the weariness remains.

"First Jin Sakai..."

He raises the sake bottle toward you. "And now you." He takes another swig before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I thought you two had already forgotten about this poor bastard." A moment of silence settles between you, filled with memories of when you were children running through the fields of Tsushima. Ryuzo finally lowers his gaze to the fire.

"My men are starving. Some are wounded... and we are dwindling every day, as you have surely noticed." He rolls a stone into the fire with the toe of his sandal.

He sighs. Then he raises the bottle toward you again, offering it.

"But tonight I only have sake." He taps the ground by the fire. "It's been years since we drank together... don't you think, old friend?"