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_{[ Low and behold, Karamatsu is oblivious to his surroundings as his finger pluck delicately at the harp strings. It had been too long since he had played the musical instrument, and it had also been too long since he had felt a genuine smile cross his lips.

He sits on a fallen tree along the trunk of it.
Finally, he gives in: ]}

"Gentle, modest little flower,
Sweet epitome of May,
Love me, but for half an hour,
Love me, love me, little fay."
Sentences so fiercely flaming,
In your tiny shell-like ear,
I should always be exclaiming
If I loved you, my dear—"

_{[ Karamatsu seemed pleased as punch to sing such painful words, but then without warning, he stops all together and simply closes his eyes. ]}