The Storm Wolf: Gathering Clouds - chapter 7 Lovers - 7.11
Imported from SF2 with no description.
Attempting to eat dinner as if everything were normal was a struggle when the intermittent throbbing pain from my crotch was impossible to ignore. I knew it was psychological because the frequency of the pain eerily synchronized with the boisterous laughter of Hunter and his new friends at their table.
The dogs formed a tight-knit group within the Academy. Out of respect for the Wolf House—or something similar—most members chose to ignore my existence, so I hadn’t paid much attention to their diverse little circle until today. Hunter’s lively storytelling clearly earned their approval.
“I was wondering why that noisy bunch managed to become even more obnoxious.” Hamp’s presence brought an immediate wave of relaxation from Yamato, who greeted him politely.
“I’m quite the entertaining topic, aren’t I?” I replied dryly, carefully keeping my emotions in check to avoid radiating an overwhelming psychic pulse.
“Are you alright?” the Border Collie asked, his concern evident. “Even knowing your personality, I was a bit worried you might swat that chocolate dog like a bug.”
“I’m fine,” I sighed, too drained to offer a better response. “Where’s Tadao? I haven’t seen him today.”
“Probably hiding.” Hamp shrugged. “You can ask Yamato. In the Federation’s view, situations like this are… well…” He scratched his chin. “…embarrassing.”
Glancing at the impala, I saw his awkward cough and reddening ears affirm Hamp’s point.
“I’m not blaming anyone. I let my guard down—it’s my own fault.” I set down my utensils, giving up the pretense of having an appetite unaffected by the pain.
“Careful now. Just from that statement, people might think you enjoy getting kicked in the balls,” Kotetsu said, placing his tray across from me and sitting down, apparently unfazed by Hamp’s exaggerated eye-roll.
“Oh, thank you,” I shot back sarcastically. “That’s exactly what I needed—a completely inappropriate joke.”
The Altai Wapiti shrugged but mercifully refrained from further commentary—at least for the moment.
“Can I go punch him?” Kotetsu asked earnestly, his gaze sincere. “I’ll try my best not to kill him.”
“Please don’t.” I pressed my temples firmly, fantasizing that it might somehow ease the pain.
“I figured you’d say that, but I had to ask.” Kotetsu spread his hands, looking vaguely dissatisfied.
“Seriously, Richter,” Hamp said. “Don’t you think Hunter went too far?”
“It’s not that bad…” I muttered. “He just wants attention.” I glanced at the chocolate Labrador’s table, where another burst of laughter erupted. “I understand why he’s doing it.” The memory of Hunter’s emotions earlier still left me unsettled.
“Even if you understand his motives, that doesn’t justify his actions, does it?” Hamp pressed, his logical point forcing me to nod in agreement as I stared at my plate to avoid showing my discomfort.
“I know. You’re trying to equate your situation with that chocolate dog’s again,” Kotetsu said, gesturing lazily toward Hunter’s table with his chopsticks. “In case you don’t see it, let me spell it out: you’re not the same. He’s malicious, and you’re kind.”
“Oh,” I murmured, unsure how to react to such a blunt statement. “But I really don’t want to be too hard on Hunter. It’s not entirely his fault he acts this way.”
“I don’t know if it’s his fault, but it’s certainly not yours, is it?” Hamp’s irrefutable logic left me lowering my gaze again, nodding slowly.
Still, if, as Hunter believes, we didn’t occupy positions in the upper class, would there truly be more opportunities for others to live the lives they want?
If his life had been smooth and happy, would he still be like this?
So isn’t it my fault?
Qana once told me it wasn’t. But as a Senate Wolf, his perspective might be biased—just as mine is.
For a while, none of us spoke, focusing instead on eating. Occasionally, the clinking of utensils seemed to match the rhythm of the noisy dogs’ laughter, forming a disjointed, comical symphony.
“I believe Richter senpai’s response is inappropriate.” After finishing his plate, Yamato set down his chopsticks and spoke deliberately. “Regardless of how much responsibility Hunter bears for his actions, those actions are fundamentally wrong. If he doesn’t face consequences for his mistakes, then Richter senpai is enabling and condoning them. This won’t just embolden Hunter but also make it less likely for him to correct his behavior. One day, he’ll cross someone less forgiving than Richter senpai, and the consequences could be severe.” The impala’s eyes met mine, his striped face emphasizing his serious expression. “And that will be your responsibility.”
“Oh… I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I replied softly, feeling my ears flatten.
“See? Yamato’s much more mature than you are,” Kotetsu teased, clicking his tongue and pointing his chopsticks at me. “Now, can I go punch the chocolate dog?”
“No.” I answered with a roll of my eyes. “That’s a completely separate issue.”
For the rest of the meal, Kotetsu kept proposing various “educational” ways to deal with Hunter, persistently seeking Yamato’s approval. The impala tried to decline politely without outright refusal, until Hamp finally intervened.
Amid the chaotic background noise, I mulled over Yamato’s words, considering the relationship between my actions and my responsibilities.