Greatwater Lake 湖

there is a breath drawn. a hitch within his throat, as disbelief falls upon the hardened face of the often monotone samurai. then, it is gone.
it is hardened. walls falling sharp, raised upright—and masa reaffirms in himself what is the meaning of to go forwards. there is silence and several seconds of pause that consumes—then he moves.
coming to stand before his younger brother, pressing nose to the forehead of the shadow. he parts as swift as the touch had been dealt, turning upon thick shoulders, letting his eyes fall upon the lands that stretch out.
then it is grim, is it not? masa asks. sōryū-no-kuni has fallen. a stillness consuming a dark soul. samurai lowers his head, a foreleg moving, a paw unearthing topsoil. we are what remains of the akashita.