Greatwater Lake 湖

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the wind whispers through the trees, but neither of them speaks for a moment. ryūjirō's gaze drifts over the landscape, the memories of what they've lost pressing down on him like a stone. we all followed orders, he murmurs, his voice low and edged with regret. we were blind to the cost. he shifts slightly, his posture stiffening. where've you been holding up then, senshi? he looks at his brother, wondering why he smells of other wolves; an unrecognizable conglomerate of scent he couldn't discern from here nor there. he wonders, too, what kind of place could hold him so fiercely that he smells of pack. not a clan. a pack. is that what they do here?