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Passionate love of years past, passionate dedication in the present–these two had merged vaguely together in exceeding normal bounds, in becoming early failures.

He could conceive of nothing less fitting than that a young man who had given his life so wholeheartedly to emotion should now rest beneath this mound of stone. The Kiyoaki of Honda's memories certainly had the hint of death about him. But even that aura of death was like a transparent flame, as if in him death itself was brilliant and volatile. This cold stone had nothing of all to say of Kiyoaki.