Arriving back at the looming architecture of the Midorima mansion, Haruka and Seijirou did not waste a single moment.
The eerie, hollow atmosphere of the town had settled into their bones, a chill that no amount of afternoon sun could dissipate.
They moved with a synchronized, purposeful gait through the sprawling wooden corridors, their footsteps muffled by the expensive tatami and polished cedar.
Soon, they found the elders.
Ryusui and Miyako were seated on the wide, sprawling balcony that overlooked the meticulously manicured rock garden.
Yuko was with them, her posture significantly more relaxed than it had been upon their arrival.
She was mid-sentence, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she shared a memory with her mother, but the lightheartedness of the scene felt jarringly out of place compared to the uncanny demographic void Seijirou had just witnessed in the village streets.
