When I first set foot in Osaka during the cherry blossom season, beneath the shade of the trees and amidst the gently falling cherry blossoms, I harbored the idea of writing a love story about a couple in Japan. The image of a Japanese girl, demure and exquisitely beautiful with her straight, black hair, strolling gracefully under the rosy glow of the cherry blossoms, evoked memories of the vibrant youth within each of us. We all have gone to school, daydreamed, and felt the heartache of our first love.
