RJ01256651
The proprietor, an old man with eyes as deep as the sea and hair as white as the driven snow, greeted her with a bow. "Welcome to Netorimura," he said, his voice like the rustle of leaves. "I have been expecting you. You have a thirst for the past, a hunger for stories that only memories can tell."
When Akira finally emerged from Netorimura, the rain had stopped, and the world seemed reborn. Though she had been in the mystical place for what felt like an eternity, only a few hours had passed. She looked down at the inshu, now empty but still warm in her hands, and knew that she had been given a gift—a piece of Netorimura, a piece of a thousand memories.
The work explores multiple types of NTR anguish: