Naichinge-Ryu (Reprise)Mature

It was damp in the field; when he looked up, he couldn't find the sun and find out what time it was. The grass was deep green, almost a man's height, bushy, with tiny blue and purple flowers, and small dewdrops had gathered on the leaves. The fog was dense; he realized he was walking towards the swamps and directed his steps towards the forest.

They found him lying under the rock, with a child's mild smile on his face. Maybe it was a coincidence, but the trail of blood had drawn the image of a bird's wings around his arms.

The Nightingale was singing on a willow's branch. I love you for your eyes, you said. Now you know, that this nightingale shall have my eyes

The willow has bowed down in slumber,
And it seams to me, that the nightingale on her branch
Is her spirit.
Basho Matsuo

The End

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