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She draws her blade slowly, petals swirling around her feet.The calm in her eyes isn’t weakness — it’s control.‘Dance, Shirayuki,’ she whispers, and the air turns to snow.
ゆっくりと刀を抜くと、足元に花びらが舞う。その瞳の静けさは、弱さではなく力の証。『舞え、白雪。』――その声とともに、空気が雪に変わる。
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