In the misty, rain-laden forest, beneath a white paper umbrella, there appeared a beautiful face, exuding a naïve and romantic expression, beautifully illuminated by the faint green light scattered through the oil paper, with raindrops clinging to it. She lightly lifted her skirt, descending the stone steps with a feminine grace. That flame and the lilies were cherished and pitied by the woman, and in that supreme moment, unease finally dissolved into a scene as graceful as poetry. The moment the woman, heading to learn flower arrangement, encountered the flame, their lives intertwined.
"And then?" Fujiwara Reya asked.
"That's it." Mrs. Kasahara tidied her damp hair with both hands, then said in a calm, or rather resolute tone, "I took the lilies back to Tokyo and nurtured them."
"Huh?"
"What's so surprising?"
"I just feel it's kind of inconclusive..."
Kasahara Fumi silently fiddled with the flowers.
"Sister Fukaeri?" Fujiwara Reya asked her curiously.
