"Hey, Teppei. Why aren't you practicing your swordplay and instead hanging around our infirmary all day?"
The speaker was a one-eyed soldier, leaning against his bed as he watched Teppei diligently checking on the wounded. His voice was strained.
His face was wrapped in bandages, with the thickest layers around his eye, yet blood still seeped through.
It was said that during a battle, an arrow had struck his eye. He had torn it out along with the eyeball, fighting until he collapsed, only to be dragged back later.
He was lucky—at least he hadn't died, and his wounds had been properly treated.
But with his eyeball gone, recovery... would be difficult.
"I already practiced."
The sword techniques Himura Battousai had taught him were simple—just basic slashes and strikes.
Teppei already had some foundation, so practicing for a while each day was enough.
The rest of his time... he spent in the infirmary.
The only thing he was grateful for was that he hadn't seen Little Mirai's brother here.
"Honestly, if I were you, I'd be training nonstop with the techniques Lord Battousai taught. Why would I waste time in this rundown infirmary, fussing over half-dead wrecks like us?"
His tone carried a hint of envy, but it sounded more like self-mockery.
In his current state, the chances of returning to the battlefield were slim. And since he wasn't a native of Watatsumi Island, no one knew what would become of him in the end.
"Because someone has to do it."
After changing the bandages for an unconscious patient, Teppei tossed the bloodstained gauze into a basin beside him and replied calmly.
Since coming here, he finally understood why there was only Miss Reirei in Bourou Village.
Compared to the Shogunate's forces, the resistance's medical capabilities were woefully lacking.
Some people, even less skilled than amateurs like him, were already performing tasks like suturing wounds.
Because of this, the mortality rate in the resistance's infirmary was high.
If not for the Divine Priestess occasionally using her Vision's power to heal the wounded, the death toll would have been even worse.
But the Divine Priestess was, after all, the leader of Watatsumi Island—she couldn't stay in the infirmary all the time. So...
What he didn't know was that the resistance wasn't just short on doctors—the Shogunate had deliberately barred those with special skills from joining.
Doctors, craftsmen, scholars—people with specialized skills were either recruited, driven away, or...
If not for the skilled miners who had fled Tatarasuna, the resistance would have been in even worse shape.
Even Yasumoto, hiding in Higi Village, had been tracked down.
There was no denying it—Kujou Takayuki, that old fox, knew exactly how to cripple the resistance on every level.
To say he didn't know the Fatui were behind the events on Yashiori Island would be impossible.
While the Fatui had infiltrated the Tenryou Commission and used Kujou Takayuki, the old fox had been using them in return.
Unfortunately... he didn't understand just how dangerous the Fatui were.
In the end, he only reaped what he sowed.
...
Night fell, and glittering stars dotted the sky. To many astrologers, these stars wrote the fate of mortals—some lives... were simply predestined.
Perhaps because the people of Yashiori Island hadn't seen the stars in so long, many in the refugee camp silently gazed upward, lost in thought.
Others huddled in corners, muttering eerie phrases under their breath. These were the ones too deeply affected by the Tatarigami, teetering on the edge of madness.
Most would assume such hopeless cases would be driven away by the Shogunate's forces. Yet, instead of expelling them, the soldiers had set up a special camp just for them.
This raised the Shogunate's standing in the eyes of many.
Later in the night, a few carts arrived from the direction of Kujou Encampment.
The carts carried wooden barrels—likely containing the white porridge or rice the Shogunate had prepared for the refugees, judging by Bai Luo's experience.
To his surprise, it was food from the Shogunate, but not plain porridge—it was a lavish meal.
The pots held more meat than vegetables. A single scoop would make any cafeteria worker faint from shock.
For the miners from Tatarasuna, this wasn't unusual—those doing physical labor were given decent rations, including meat.
But for the native refugees of Yashiori Island, it was different.
Due to the island's unique conditions, many animals and fish couldn't be eaten because of the Tatarigami. So this much meat was a first for them.
Almost as soon as the food distribution began, everyone crowded forward.
"Don't push! There's enough for everyone! If you didn't bring your own bowl, line up on the left—we'll provide utensils!"
The officer in charge had anticipated this. Using a makeshift paper megaphone, he began maintaining order.
Bai Luo and Tatyana, however, didn't join the crowd. They stood at the entrance of their tent, carefully observing their surroundings.
Bai Luo noticed that while the Shogunate soldiers salivated at the sight of the food, none made a move to eat it.
Instead, they slipped into unnoticed corners, quietly munching on their own rice balls.
In other words... these soldiers knew the food was likely tainted.
Before long, a Shogunate soldier approached with two meal boxes.
The containers were wooden, likely disposable—something to be discarded after use.
Makes sense. Utensils used by those affected by the Tatarigami couldn't be reused. In a way, this was no different from handling infectious waste.
They'd probably be collected and burned later.
"You two, no need to line up with the others. My superior specifically asked me to deliver these to you."
The officer had guessed that Bai Luo and his companion, being from Inazuma City, wouldn't scramble for food with the refugees. So he'd sent two portions separately.
He'd even ordered the soldier to watch the "married couple" eat.
But Bai Luo glanced at Tatyana, then at the soldier, and made no move to touch the food.
"What are you looking at me for? Eat! It's best while hot."
The soldier dragged over an empty barrel, placed a plank on top as a makeshift table, and even opened the meal boxes for them.
There was no denying it—the Shogunate's cooks were skilled. The aroma alone made the soldier swallow hard.
"You must be hungry too, brother. Why not join us?"
Playing along, Bai Luo picked up the box, plucked out a piece of meat, and offered it to the soldier.
"A mere soldier like me can't eat food specially prepared for you two. Hurry up—I need to take these back for disposal afterward."
The soldier swallowed again, but his face was full of refusal.
Seeing this, Bai Luo was certain.
This food was definitely poisoned.