A man-made flower in eternal bloom. Who knows if there truly is life in there?

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A summer festival flower that blooms forever,

That will not wilt even if buried deep below the snow.

Some may label it an imitation, a false life,

For life lies in change, pain and growth,

In meetings, and also in partings.

But the memories of meeting her,

Of watching the fireworks bloom in the sky like fresh flowers together,

The memories of that foxy-eyed woman who eventually disappeared without a trace...

That unwithering flower is the final thing to remember her by.

In the end, the difference comes down to the fact that for some,

Life is as eternal as this undying summer bloom,

But for most, it is as transient as smoke.

A well-crafted wooden dart. It will only stop once it has reached its destination.

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An intricately-made throwing dart. It is a common sight during the summer festival.

In the ghost stories of Inazuma,

There is a tale about a meeting between the human and inhuman...

To celebrate my wife's pregnancy, I went to the shrine to give a votive offering.

But for reasons unknown, I went up the mountain with these objects.

The water balloon from when I was seven, the fox mask from when I was seventeen,

And a flower that would not wilt in ten or even a hundred years.

Why did I expect to meet her again?

No matchmaker introduced myself and my wife, and we were always short on money,

And it took some time for us to produce an heir,

But our days were still filled with happiness, were they not?

But still I detoured on that mountain road to the place where I'd seen the fireworks with her.

Pulling the bushes apart, I thought I saw her dressed in white, sitting upon that rock.

But when I came forward and looked, it was just a fox sunbathing.

It leaped up at the sound of snapping branches, and fled into the woods,

And like the spots of light that poke between leaves moved by the breeze, it was gone in a flash.

All that was left was an old throwing dart.

A pocketwatch that has stopped at a certain point in time.

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A small, ornate pocket watch.

The watch seems to have stopped at a certain time of day.

In the ghost stories of Inazuma,

This has something to do with an encounter with something inhuman...

On the night of the summer festival, as I walked the path to the shrine with the girl I admired,

I heard, only barely, the sound of a lost child's cries.

In that moment of distraction, I fell, spraining my ankle and breaking that pocket watch.

While she ran to look for some ointment,

I tried to make way for the people passing through,

And sat down on a rock by the wayside to rest.

The beautiful mask-wearing woman sat down beside me.

"There are few who know about this spot."

"But it's the best place to watch the fireworks, you know?"

It should have been a dream.

We hadn't met in ten years,

And she had aged not a single day in those years, and yet...

"You've grown so much. Looks like we should pass on the game of fusen."

"I've brought wine, though. Let's watch the fireworks together. What do you say?"

Water balloons can be seen everywhere during the summer festival, but none are as finely-wrought as this one.''

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A beautiful water balloon filled with water.

In the ghost stories of Inazuma,

This is a memento of a chance meeting with something inhuman...

During the summer festival, I was separated from my parents.

It was but a moment, but I had wanted to look at the water balloons,

And let go of my hand that had gripped on to my father's sleeve.

Before we knew it, the tide of people escorting the divine palanquin had washed us apart.

I cried by the torii gates along the road to the shrine,

And I counted the feet of the people ascending the mountain.

I do not know when it happened.

But a beautiful lady with fox-like eyes had come to my side, and taken my hand.

"How preposterous, to leave such an adorable child here."

"So, how about it? Would you like to see the fireworks, throw some darts, and play fusen with me?"

A popular mask cast in the image of a deity, as described in the legends.

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The mask of one indwelt by a deity.

A mask that has been cast in the image of some legendary deity.

People will often take on the guise of the fox of legend,

Covering their faces with masks based on her divine visage,

Perhaps wishing that they might gain her ability of transformation.

In Inazuma's legends, everything has a spirit.

...But even so,

It is likely that most such beings would have long fled,

Driven into the forests by the suppression of the Shogun.

But many people still believe in these divine foxes and the ability to be indwelt by them...

They believe that thousands of years of age may confer power upon animals.

As such, they also believe in what this fox mask represents.

A note has been left on the back of this mask, written in a lovely hand.

"I'm sorry, I departed under the cover of the fireworks."

"We will most likely never meet again. Take care of yourself."