Kaku, User of the Quick-Cut Fruit

The next day.

The morning mist had yet to clear. The air, heavy with coal dust and moisture, felt thick enough to wring water from.

A simple but solemn funeral was underway in a newly cleared graveyard. Three fresh graves stood side by side, their rough wooden markers carved with the words "The Daz Family."

Dawn stood before the graves like an iron tower. His eyes held just the right measure of compassion, his lips were pressed tight, and grief weighed on his face.

Beneath his well-tailored black suit, his sharply defined muscles strained faintly against the fabric. Somehow, they made him look not brutish but dependable and commanding.

Many miners who had known old Daz stood in silence. Yet their eyes were not wholly lost in grief. More than anything, they gazed at Dawn with fervent gratitude they could barely contain.

This man had given them work and improved conditions in the camp. Now he had sought justice for Daz and his family after their violent deaths, even paying for a proper funeral.

On a sea where human lives were treated as worthless, Dawn's actions seemed saintly.

Dawn took it all in, calmly judging how well his performance had worked.

Good. This had won them over nicely.

He cleared his throat and, in his rich voice, began the long, heartfelt eulogy he had prepared.

His words were eloquent and full of feeling. He spoke of the Daz family's kindness and hard work, the uncertainty of fate, and finally the hope found in the future and the need to stand together.

His voice echoed through the quiet graveyard. Every sentence seemed to strike the miners' hearts.

"...Their souls shall rest in peace. And we who remain must carry on their wishes and face the road ahead with greater strength!"

Dawn