The past is gone, and the people of the past are old and declining.
To the turbulent years, to you who are the bravest.
Proof that you once existed, you are being forgotten.
(It doesn't look good. If you kill me, I'll give you my head)
The summer solstice has not yet arrived, but you and I are here as promised
I would like to take this as a gift to you who are being loved, who have been loved, and who deserve to be loved.
I would like to pick this up and forget it when I am now.
There are nine events in ten volumes, and the group portraits are both suspenseful and beautiful.
(Both men, I am dissatisfied with the quality of current books, so I might as well write one myself)
Intention: I hope that what I think will be right for the words I write.