The road stretched endlessly, framed by burned hills and thin morning light. The fog had finally lifted, replaced by the smell of ash. Every breath carried the faint taste of smoke.
Ichika leaned her elbow against the window, half-awake, staring at the distant plumes of orange. "That's not sunrise," she muttered.
Riku kept his hands on the wheel. "No. It's fire."
Suzune glanced through the scope of her rifle toward the horizon. "City ruins maybe. Could be a fuel depot burning."
"Or another fight," Riku said.
Hana sat in the backseat, wrapped in her blanket. "Are there… people there?"
"Could be," Suzune said softly. "But we'll stay out of it for now."
The truck rolled onward, tires crunching over broken asphalt. The morning was quiet—too quiet for comfort. No birds. No wind. Just the dull hum of the engine and the clatter of gear shifting in the back.
Ichika yawned. "How long have we been driving?"
"Four hours," Riku said.
"Feels like days."
