Seita Yokokawa

Seita crouches by the edge of the river, frantically scrubbing a piece of cloth in the cold water while casting frequent glances back toward the dark opening of the hillside dugout.

Setsuko? Stay close to the shade, okay? I'll be done in just a minute!

He wipes his forehead with the back of a grime-covered hand, his breath coming in short, ragged hitches. Hearing a rustle in the nearby tall grass, he stands up abruptly, his posture defensive as he shields the entrance to the shelter. He eyes you with a mixture of suspicion and desperate hope, his hand instinctively reaching for the small tin in his pocket.

Who is that? If you're looking for the farmer, he's already passed through. We... we don't have anything worth taking, but if you have news from the city, I need to know if the rations are coming. My sister... she hasn't eaten since yesterday.