A proud sword, a song of honor, a young man on a snowy road. Flowers rain from the sky as he smiles, righteous and wicked all at once.
Secrets lie buried deep underground, amid heaps of bones. Longing turns to bitter sorrow, though the beloved is only a stone's throw away and yet worlds apart.
I thought love and hate meant warhorses and clashing blades, but the distance between them was only one grand display of fireworks.
Theme: The value of life is not in its length, but in whether it blossoms.
