Anko Mitarashi

Land of Waves, Hope Bridge.

This grand structure spanning the strait, linking the main island of the Land of Waves to the mainland of the Land of Fire, had only recently been completed. It lay across the sea like a sleeping dragon.

Yet at that moment, dozens of ragged civilians were dragging their families along, carrying crude bundles on their backs as they struggled toward the Land of Fire.

Among them were old people leaning on wooden sticks, women holding crying infants, and children clutching tightly at their parents' sleeves, their eyes full of fear and confusion.

Exhaustion was written across every face, and their footsteps were heavy, as if they were carrying an invisible burden.

Suddenly, the refugees at the very front stopped in their tracks.

Their eyes widened in terror, and their bodies began to tremble despite themselves.

In the very center of the bridge stood two people.

A man and a woman, both dressed in black cloaks patterned with red clouds that snapped in the sea wind, the red cloud markings looking like drops of congealed blood.

The man was crouched on the bridge, his right hand gently stroking the concrete surface, his eyes closed as if sensing something.

He had black hair and a handsome but pale face. Deep tear troughs stretched from either side of his nose to his cheekbones, making him look more weathered than his actual age.

When he opened his eyes, three black tomoe slowly revolved within a pair of scarlet pupils.

The woman stood to one side with her arms folded, glancing at the refugees with interest.

She looked young, with dark-red hair drifting in the sea wind, a blade of grass held between her lips, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

Most striking of all were the two short