Obata Himezuki stared at the photograph in Kamiyagawa's hand, as if she had finally recalled something.
The funeral...
People in black clothes moved back and forth, the atmosphere heavy, accompanied by sorrowful cries and intermittent prayers.
Inside the venue, the black-and-white decorations were solemn. People spoke softly, yet no faces could be clearly seen—the air was thick with the mixture of floral fragrance and incense smoke, mingling with the stifling scent of grief.
"No, no... that's not right..."
Obata Himezuki shook her head forcefully.
I've never been to that funeral.
Yet why do I have such vivid memories of it?
Even as her heart denied and resisted, Obata Himezuki still saw "more" within her mind—
She saw the black coffin placed at the center of the altar, saw the photograph surrounded by clusters of yellow and white flowers.
