25.02.2026, 12:15
He sat on the bench, an old man with a cane, and looked at the river. He had not come for repentance — the river is no confessor. Not for forgiveness — the dead do not forgive. He had simply come. To the only place where his past still breathed. Where December of ’37 had never ended. Where he was still a young soldier, and Daisuke was alive. He was waiting for the river to claim his reflection as well
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