Two days had passed since the battle of Minami Kyoto.
The city still carried the scars of war.
The western gate remained destroyed, its shattered stone and frozen ruins now surrounded by workers, soldiers, and craftsmen. The road beyond it had been cleared of most of the bodies, but dark stains remained beneath the snow. Broken weapons, torn banners, and abandoned shields lay stacked near the walls, waiting to be melted down, repaired, or burned.
The streets were quieter than they had been during the battle.
But they were not peaceful.
Not yet.
Everywhere, people worked.
Some rebuilt damaged homes. Others carried food toward the shelters where families had been forced to sleep after the outer districts were destroyed. Wounded soldiers rested in temples converted into infirmaries. Priests moved among them with bowls of water, medicine, and prayers for those who had survived.
And in the spaces between the work, people mourned.
They mourned fathers who would not return.
