The edge of flowing frost, the resentment of colored glaze. An elegant and indifferent short fanfic, about the beautiful story of Fuji and Tezuka. There are no colorful flowers all over the path, no separation between life and death, only love as gentle as tea. On the melancholy moonlit night before leaving for Germany, the story is like the last quarter moon that deceives people infatuated, or like the late cherry blossoms falling into snow, the first signs...