Hazuki walked ahead with his hands in his pockets, the faint crunch of dirt under his boots the only sound—aside from Ridan, who floated nearby in his usual cloudy spirit form, whistling a tune that echoed faintly like wind through a hollow cave.
"You seem in a good mood, Ridan."
"Nah, just chillin'. Bein' serious all the time's a shortcut to white hair and early wrinkles."
"Yeah… I get that," Hazuki muttered, stretching his arms as he strolled.
"Besides," Ridan added, spinning lazily in the air, "life's simple, Hazuki. Don't go stressin' over things that ain't even your problem."
"What do you mean?"
"Let's say you're in line for somethin', and some bastard cuts in front. You mad?"
"Hmm... Probably, yeah."
"Now let me ask you one thing."
Hazuki raised an eyebrow, glancing sideways.
"What?"
"Did it stop you from breathing? Eating? Sleeping? Did it make your future crumble to ash?"
Hazuki blinked, brow furrowed.
"…No?"
