Summer arrived, and Reed River was utterly transformed.
Winter's crisp chill and spring's abundance were no match for the blazing midsummer sun.
The river shimmered white beneath the scorching heat. The tender green reed shoots along the banks had long been replaced by thick stalks that had grown wildly, standing crowded by the water's edge, their leaf tips curled and singed yellow by the sun.
Kenken floated listlessly in the shallow water near the bank, with only half its head and its wet brown back exposed.
After its precious dam had collapsed, that grief seemed to have evaporated in the summer heat, leaving nothing in its body but ever-present exhaustion and emptiness.
It rolled over, belly up, and let the murky river water support its tiny body.
The sunlight was so piercing that it squinted its little eyes.
Perhaps... this was fine too?
Give up struggling, give up rebuilding, give up that dream of a fortress it had once believed unbreakable.
Let this lazy river carry it wherever it drifted...
Once so diligent, it now only wanted to rot away until the end of the world.
"Creak—screech—"
The teeth-grating scrape of wheels and the heavy snorting of a worn-out horse shattered the stillness of the riverbank.
A carriage covered in dustproof canvas came rolling down the sun-bleached dirt road, trailing clouds of dust behind it.
Yano was the one driving.
He tugged at the collar of his linen shirt, which clung tightly to his body, feeling the summer heat just as keenly.
Sweat had long soaked through his back and chest, sticking clammy against his skin, every brush of fabric bringing a prickling itch.
"I hate summer," he muttered, his voice somewhat hoarse from thirst.
Summer at the edge of this swamp was practically one enormous steamer; even every breath