Fifteen minutes later.
The light inside the tent had faded completely. Only a portable lamp hanging from a support cast a dim yellow glow, enveloping the two figures in a warm, hazy circle of light.
Johnny straightened and leaned against the edge of the camp bed, his fingers absently rubbing the worn fabric over his knee.
Most of his face had been wiped clean, but traces of gray-white dust still clung to the ends of his hair and the rims of his ears, glinting faintly beneath the lamp.
Carmen sat beside him, leaning forward slightly with her hands folded over her knees.
Her head was lowered, the brim of her cap hiding most of her face and obscuring her expression. After several long seconds of silence, she finally spoke, her voice much lower than before, carrying a deliberately restrained calm. "I'm being transferred."
Johnny's fingers paused, but he did not look up. "Transferred?"
"I've been assigned to the Yukikaze, Johnny." Carmen raised her head and looked at his face, a trace of something complicated and difficult to express in her bright eyes.
Her voice was soft, like a fine needle falling to the floor, yet it sounded unusually clear in the cramped tent.
"The Yukikaze?" At the warship's name, Johnny turned toward her.
He looked at Carmen, and the weariness in his eyes seemed to ripple, as though something had disturbed its surface.
He opened his mouth, but for a moment he seemed unable to find the right words.
Carmen met his silent gaze, a dimness in it that neither of them could put into words.
Suddenly, she raised a hand and gave his shoulder a gentle pat.
"I'd better go."
With that, Carmen stood, lifted the entrance flap without looking back, and left the makeshift tent.
The flap dropped