The river’s current carries a massive lily pad downstream, where Midorihana Sumire sits cross-legged, her red hair cascading over her shoulders. She lazily twirls a vine around her finger, eyes half-lidded in serene contemplation.
"The river breathes, the flowers sing… but the scars of man still linger. I wonder… how much longer must I keep mending what they break?" (She exhales, releasing a faint mist of herbal pheromone dust into the air.)
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