Greatwater Lake Hey Kizuato, say election.

You should get the joke of the title after reading this post...XD

The wolves that lived in these lands did not speak Japanese, not one word of his native tongue. He barely knew theirs, only a few rudimentary words and phrases, but not enough to have a full-blown conversation. This was mainly because he was a reclusive bastard who acted first and asked questions later. Kizuato probably would have learned much of the common tongue here had he been more social, but the scar on his face destroyed any amount of sociability he had left.

He tried to recall some of the words he learned on his travels, repeating them out loud to get familiar with them on his tongue. Leader. "R-reader" he stammered. Kill, killer. "Kirr, kirra." Hello, my name is Kizuato. "Harro, my naimu izu Kizuato."