Mai | Hanano

"No," Yūgen said, turning his blank face toward her. "It is your heart. Every shrine maiden who came before you tended this garden. Your grandmother planted the silver petals the night she lost her sight. Her mother grew the glass blossoms the day her fiancé died in the war. You have inherited a field of other people's grief, and you have never planted anything of your own."

A figure knelt before it: a young man in robes the color of twilight. His face was featureless, like a porcelain mask. mai hanano

Yūgen’s featureless face cracked. Behind the porcelain was something vulnerable and young. "You… you didn't repair the garden," he whispered. "You made it new." "No," Yūgen said, turning his blank face toward her

Mai drove the hairpin into the soil at the base of the withered rose. Your grandmother planted the silver petals the night

"This is the village's heart," Mai whispered.

"You are Mai Hanano," he said, his voice like dry leaves. "I am Yūgen, the Gardener of Lost Things. You should not be here."