It was August, and the “Blue Moon” had come around – a phenomenon wherein two full moons appear in the same month.

As a seventeen-year-old, I found myself in Arashiyama, Kyoto, at my grandmother’s house for a memorial service. It was on this solemn occasion that a peculiar encounter awaited me. Under the radiant light of the first full moon, I stumbled upon a mysterious sight. There before me was a young girl, gracefully using an umbrella to scoop water from a spring, her actions illuminated by the moon’s ethereal glow.

She said, “I’ll be here until the Blue Moon ends,” and despite our same ages, she had a mysterious aura about her, as if hiding a great secret.

That secret between us was that