SE, it's quite abusive, but the r-big words have always been good.
This is the final outcome:
Christmas Eve.
It was midnight when Tezuka woke up. The room was dark, and only a faint moonlight shone through the window, casting a long, narrow, pale and bright shadow on the ground. Without turning on the light, I got up and got a glass of water. In the dim light, Tezuka saw the pointer on the dial pointing to three o'clock in the morning.
The street outside has been very quiet, and the people who have been partying all night have dispersed. There are only colored foam scraps left on the ground for celebration, and a thin layer seems to have snowed. The sound of bagpipes is accompanied by singing, which is the choir of Notre Dame church. Osamu Tezuka lives near Notre Dame Cathedral, on which two onion-like bell towers can be seen.
Osamu Tezuka put on a long trench coat and went out. He crossed several alleys and finally stopped in front of Notre Dame church.
The church is brightly lit, and the stained glass windows are dazzling in the light. Many believers are bowing their heads and praying silently. The children in the choir finished singing the hymn and lined up to accept the blessing of the kind old priest. There is a piano in the corner, a priest is sitting there playing an unknown adagio, and someone is playing bagpipes next to him. The lights there were dim, a bright yellow light poured down, and large and small apertures floated on the black piano.
The sound of the music is long and gentle, and it continues. The melancholy tone is slightly sad, as if recalling a lost day.
Osamu Tezuka's eyes blinked gently, and a little water vapor condensed on her eyelashes.
All this is very similar to that evening many years ago. He played a tune with him, and Kikumaru smiled and listened to the big stone.
The love between me and you is as simple as a song.
That year, Kikumaru and Dashi rode bicycles and ran to the end of the world together. That year, he held hands tightly, thinking that he could go through life like this.
The poems in memory, those young years, turned out to be the best days in his life. However, those good days are gone, and those days that he is willing to exchange with his life will never come back.
Never come back.
Tezuka turned and walked away. He's a little shaky and unstable.
Someone set off fireworks in the square, and the bright yellow flame bloomed like flowers in the night, overlapping and flashing, and finally died. The cold night wind blew them away, and the stars rained around him.
Snow began to fall in the dark sky, and white snow flowers fluttered gently in the wind.
It fell on the ground, on the red brick roof, on the tip of the black iron guardrail and on the ever-burning lamp of the shrine. Soon, the whole world turned pale.
Osamu Tezuka walked quietly in this world as white as heaven, as if he could go on forever.
……
Hi, Fuji Syusuke.
Kunimitsu Tezuka.
……
Tezuka, I'm a little scared. ...
I won't. The doctor said there would be no problem.
Now ..... Not afraid.
……
Tezuka's eyes can talk.
Are you clear?
……
Tezuka ............. It seems that there are some things, no matter how hard you try, you still can't.
Fuji, you have to believe that as long as you try your best, you can do it.
……
As long as you are with Osamu Tezuka, no matter how high you are, you can reach it.
……
Warm tears finally slipped down his cheeks silently, and Tezuka raised his head slightly.
Under the irradiation of moonlight, the fine snow gives off a light blue and soft light.
That is God's most sincere gift to good people.
Like an eternal poem.
The missing poem.
Snowflakes flying all over the sky whirled down his hair and body, and finally melted gently on his skin.
It was the first snow in Munich that year.
Light and silent.
& lt end of full text >