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It's things like historical dramas or koi flags fluttering in the wind on Children's Day. It's an old woman fanning herself on the train, a pretty guy with long black hair, a weekend in Kyoto with Akira.
Sometimes it's the morning sunlight shining in the window, and he watches blurry-eyed as dust swirls through the air like ghosts, Akira's warmth against his back.