A Scented Feast of Yuri

In Ichizawa's handwriting, Kyoto Prefecture in winter possesses a unique aesthetic. Whether it's the rough stone streets, moss-covered by the passage of time, or the melodious chanting of temple bells, rising and falling with the daily rhythm of morning and evening, this city, seemingly shrouded in mist since the Edo period, feels almost unreal. Not to mention the countless haiku, left by generations of tea enthusiasts, that seem to fill every crack and corner of this city. The streets, where students hurry to school, might silently bear witness to countless historical shifts. If it weren't for the fact that this quietly revitalized city, with its cultural depth, now attracts countless young men and women to admire its scenery and pass through, even long-term residents might find themselves lost in a dream, returning to an unknown time and space. Furthermore, as the New Year approaches, this city, as if touched by the divine, sees families enthusiastically celebrating the new year, gathered around their loved ones. Even those who, in winter, still bare their thighs, their beautiful curves peeking out from beneath skirts and bubble socks...