The flowers on the other side bloomed for a thousand years and withered for a thousand years. When the flowers bloomed, they had never met each other. The encounter at that moment was perfect and beautiful. When they met again, it was no longer the past. The constraints of fate made them far apart.
"One of our two generations must fight."
"Why, why do we have to fight? What's the point of this?"
"Perhaps, sometimes... The meaning of fighting is itself."