"That's right, willow fluff."
As Giorno's voice, seemingly imbued with magic, rang out, the willow fluff drifting through the air seemed to freeze in time:
"I don't know if you've ever played a game like this."
"When the ground is covered in willow fluff in spring, you casually toss a match onto it."
"Whoosh. All it takes is a tiny spark, and the willow fluff filling the streets will ignite like a lit fuse of gunpowder, rapidly turning into a brilliant, gorgeous sea of fire."
(Do not imitate this, unless you want to spend the rest of your life in prison.)
"Willow seeds naturally contain oil, while their fibrous structure gives them a large surface area in contact with the air, providing plenty of oxygen."
"And in order to drift so lightly through the air, they contain very little moisture."
"So."
Through layers of "thick fog," those heavy words rang out with startling clarity:
"Willow fluff, these seemingly harmless little things, are actually even more dangerous and flammable than gasoline!"
"And you."
Giorno turned sideways and steadied himself, one hand unconsciously resting at his waist while the other pointed firmly at the "thick fog":
"While you were busy chasing me, these dangerous flammable things had already completely wrapped around your bodies!"
"Do you understand now?"
"From the very moment you stepped into this 'thick fog,' you had already entered my trap!"
"..."
At those words, Fugo and Narancia's expressions turned utterly ugly.
They looked at their current state:
Willow fluff covered their bodies, willow fluff lay beneath their feet, and willow fluff danced through the air.
These ordinary white plant seeds filled every corner of the space around them. Not only did they seem harmless, they even carried a faint, hazy beauty.
But now, all it would take was a