女性はキモノを着ている。

The soft rustle of silk brushed against Haruka’s skin as she adjusted the delicate fabric of her kimono. The rich indigo hue was adorned with intricate cherry blossom patterns, a gift from her grandmother on her twenty-fifth birthday. It was more than just a garment; it was a tapestry of history, woven with memories of family gatherings and the warmth of shared laughter. Today, as she prepared for the annual Hanami festival in the heart of Kyoto, the kimono felt like both armor and embrace.

Stepping out of her narrow apartment, Haruka inhaled the crisp air, her heart racing with anticipation. The cherry trees lining the canal were just beginning to bloom, their petals promising a fleeting beauty that mirrored the transience of youth. She had always cherished this festival, a time when the city transformed into a canvas of pink and white, filled with families, friends, and strangers who came together to celebrate the arrival of spring.

As she walked along the cobbled streets, Har