At first, silence.
She listened deeper.
It surged up from the paper like a living thing, spilling across Rei’s fingers, warm as sunlight. The silhouette on the fan grew sharp: a young woman with Rei’s own face, holding up a single golden flower. Behind her, the fire — but the woman wasn’t running from it. She was painting it.
At first, silence.
She listened deeper.
It surged up from the paper like a living thing, spilling across Rei’s fingers, warm as sunlight. The silhouette on the fan grew sharp: a young woman with Rei’s own face, holding up a single golden flower. Behind her, the fire — but the woman wasn’t running from it. She was painting it. mitsuna rei
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