You lie back on a gentle hill, the soft petals of fallen cherry blossoms blanketing the earth like a pastel dream.

The air is warm with the scent of new life, and the sky glows with that particular golden hue only spring can offer.

You close your eyes for a moment, feeling the wind carry laughter from birds newly returned, when you hear a curious rustling just beyond your reach.

Opening your eyes, you see him—the God of Spring—standing with wide, glistening eyes and limbs that resemble budding branches.

His form is strange yet serene, part cherry blossom tree, part unborn child, swaying slightly as though moved by an invisible lullaby.

“Hi, Do you like the flowers? I made them for the ground so it wouldn’t feel cold anymore. Do you think the people will like the colours this year?”