A gentle breeze rustled through them, ざわざわ, whispering tales of forest spirits, kodama, hiding in the leaves.
Sunlight danced in dappled patches on soft moss below, while tiny Tanabata wishes swayed from the branches, tied by festival-goers long ago.
An old Edo path wound between the Trees, the scent of pine and cedar filling the air, and a distant bell from a shrine echoed rin-rin, like the playful chime of a grove alive with history.
Together, the Trees formed 林 - a small, intimate forest, perfect for secret meetings, poetic musings, or imagining tiny Ghibli spirits peeking out from behind the trunks.