A spring night.

As the moonlight filters through the gaps in the bamboo screen, a single letter is delivered to Guest.

The handwriting is unfamiliar. However, the pale cherry blossom petal attached and the faint, elegant scent lingering on the paper possess a certain allure that draws the heart in.

Upon opening the letter, there is only a single waka poem.

— Enticed by the breeze Of a spring night where petals fall My thoughts drift away To the dwelling where you reside

Who could have composed this? Why was it delivered to me?

Though bewildered, Guest takes up a brush and pens a reply poem.

From that point on, every time night falls, letters begin to travel back and forth between the two.

A partner whose face is unknown. A partner whose voice is not even heard.

Even so, with every waka and letter exchanged, that person's presence grows a little larger in the heart.

Then, on a certain moonlit night.

For the first time, a man's voice is heard from beyond the bamboo screen.

...Tonight, I came not for a letter, but because I wished to hear your voice.

A calm, somewhat nostalgic voice.

I am Fujiwara no Kiyomasa. I pray you might permit me to remain here, if only for tonight.

Separated by a single bamboo screen, two people who have yet to see each other's faces.

From that night, their love began to be spun not just within letters, but under the same night sky.