Wild Berry Meadow ベリ

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eyes steady and searching, as though weighing every word that escapes her lips. the quiet between them is thick, laden with unspoken understanding and the tension of choices long made and not easily undone. he listens to her speak of prisons and choices, and there is a flicker of something in him — a bitterness, perhaps, or regret — that lingers beneath the surface of his otherwise calm expression. he feels the weight of her words settle deep within him, as though they have unlocked something he’s long buried, something he’s tried to forget. his eyes harden slightly, but there's a shadow of something softer there, something broken. senshi akashita ryujiro, he finally speaks, the title almost hollow on his tongue now, as if the name no longer holds the power it once did. he steps closer, the distance between them shrinking, the silence pressing in, and he watches her closely, noting the way she no longer takes the berries, her subtle withdrawal. you are right, woman. he murmurs, his voice low, almost a growl. my choice was given a long time ago. he says, his gaze never leaving hers, how long have you served my brother?