"Give me a bowl."
"Me too. I'm starving! I haven't eaten in five days. When I was sick, all I could drink was a little water."
"Don't push. Keep the line orderly. There's enough for everyone."
Everywhere Fujitora looked, he saw the same scene he had seen before.
"What happened here? Why does everyone look as though they've only just recovered from a long illness?"
His adjutant's words made Fujitora pause.
"That's right. We've only been thinking about the plague. But what if it's already been cured?"
The adjutant thought for a moment, then shook his head.
"Mr. Issho, I considered that too. But with medicine as it stands, a plague like this is extremely rare. The few previous outbreaks destroyed entire nations. A cure is unlikely."
Fujitora approached a middle-aged civilian who was drinking meat soup and asked in a friendly tone, "Hello. Could you tell me what happened in this country?"
The man flinched. He looked at Fujitora and the many Marines behind him with fear, distaste, and, most of all, distrust.
"N-nothing happened. We just ran out of food. Did you hear there was a plague here? That's only a rumor."
With that, the man stopped speaking and lowered his eyes to the bowl in his hands.
His eyes were reflected in the soup, brimming with tears.
His wife, son, and daughter had all died in the plague. He alone remained.
Fujitora shook his head. Though he sensed the man was lying, he chose not to press him.
"Come on. Let's go to the Royal Palace district."
Before long, Fujitora reached the Royal Palace district. There, he finally saw people suffering from the plague.
Weakness and pain gripped them, but one thing was missing: Absolute despair.
These people were filled with hope for life rather than Absolute