Flowers climbed over the railings of the bench.
She finally turned her gaze toward him, but said nothing. All he could see was his face reflected in her black eyes, like ripples on water, beautiful and flawless.
Lynn rested his head on his left arm, reclining on the long bench with his eyes closed. A smile curved his lips as he said softly:
"I thought you'd throw yourself into my arms as soon as you saw I was awake."
"Of course."
"If you're shy, you can save it for now. Once we're somewhere a little quieter, you can suddenly throw yourself at me then."
His words were as irreverent as ever.
As though that lifetime in a dream had done nothing to change his nature.
Black String Moon's eyes remained like an ancient well, reserved and dignified. Lynn paid that no mind, keeping his eyes closed as though he truly were enjoying this rare afternoon respite.
"But surely something should have changed."
"After all, whatever else you might say, we're an old married couple now. Even if it happened in a dream, you should still remember it."
"Or did you forget everything from before once you woke up? Oh dear, if that's the case, wouldn't I be..."
But he never finished his rambling.
At that moment,
he felt a touch against his finger.
As though a slender hand clad in black gauze had gently reached over.
Just as it had beneath the sea.
That little girl covered in whip marks had hooked her pinky around his, her eyes red.
Pinky promise.
No changing it for a hundred years.
Lynn fell silent. Slowly, he opened his eyes and turned his head. At some point, the quiet girl with her head raised had sat down beside him. Their pinkies, connected by the