Chimper #4422
"They insisted on giving a formal bow to every cherry blossom tree on the street this morning. Claimed the blossoms looked 'underappreciated'." That's how most locals in the city of purple skies describe Iha. They arrived from a warmer, gentler clime with only a thin pink yukata, a pair of spectacles, and a desperate need to belong. While the freezing mountain winds don't bother the natives, Iha is in a constant, polite shiver, which they loudly dismiss as "vibrations of spiritual alignment." They carry guiding lanterns in the brightest hours and attempt to cultivate a single, tragic-looking sunflower on their balcony—a tribute to Himawari's warmth in a place that has none. It was their attempt to eat jam on toast with chopsticks that finally earned them their title.
