Jinguji Maki was running in the long labyrinthine corridors.
She ran barefoot on the soft brown carpet, the hem of her nightgown fluttering in the dim light, like a lamp floating in the long river of time.
The little girl's hair, smooth and shiny, bounced behind her.
It was already midnight, even those students who just left their parents and gained freedom were sound asleep.
A soft warm wind blew through the corridor, as if a giant's arm wanted to take the little girl into its embrace.
Powerful, yet careful and affectionate.
Seemingly afraid of startling the little girl.
The call in the corridor was like the nursery rhyme under the cherry blossom tree of her hometown, the cheerful laughter echoed in her ears, as if there were adults wielding hammers, pounding rice cakes in mortars.
People shouted with rhythmic chants, the rice cakes being pounded into white rice balls in the mortar.
