Wasn't it a lovely war? {Yao's Antique Shop} [Open to Sakura]

"The pictures move and talk." She didn't know how to really explain what she was seeing, she had realised already that nobody else could see the movement. "Like they're playing out a scene. Usually they're just posing for photos, but if it's not a posed photo, they play out what is happening. Then it... repeats." She fidgited, "I don't really know how to explain it, but it is constant." she said. "It happens with pictures and photographs, images in magazines, anything really."

"I could try and explain, if I had a photograph." She offered, in case he needed more help or more proof.

"I see..." He said. He thought he sort of understood what she meant. "A photo... all right." He wanted to know for sure what this was, so he stood up and went to find a photograph. He didn't particularly want to give her a personal photograph because, well, it felt sort of invasive. Obviously Sakura hadn't intended to see and feel his memories like that, but he almost felt like his innermost thoughts had been invaded against his will. He didn't want to repeat that.

He found an old photography book under a pile of papers. It was a collection of photographs from 19th Century Japan. He flipped through to find a photo with people, one that didn't look too staged or formal. He found one of some Japanese fishermen on a houseboat on a lake with a temple and some mountains and greenery in the background. He handed it to her uncertainly. "Will this do?" He almost expected to see the people move himself when she took the book, though he knew that was silly.

She nodded and took the book, staring at the image. “There’s no really noise. It’s very quiet, which is pleasant. They are moving around, fixing a net.” She tried to hear what they were saying, and automatically spoke in Japanese. “Where is the knife?” She said, as the photo continued to move, “Um... the one in the corner picked up a knife and handed it to the third one along, who is cutting a knot from their net... presumably so it can be mended later.” It was a very interesting picture, honestly. She was fascinated and smiled. “Oh, there is a bell, I think it’s from the tower. There’s a storm coming” She repeated from them, “It’s getting a bit darker, but since it’s black and white, I can’t tell.”

It returned to the beginning, “That’s all we have.” She said, placing it down on the table and trying to ignore it. “...my grandfather was a fisherman.” She said after a moment, “I feel... quite lucky that I got to see it. And that picture is okay, it is not too loud.” It also helped that she had accepted the movement of the picture, when normally she would fight against it, which gave her an awful headache and was mostly futile.

He listened to her description, glancing at the photograph on the page, expecting the men to move or the boat to rock, but it all stayed perfectly still. If he wasn't sure that Sakura had been affected by the lightning, he would have assumed she was mad. But her description fit, and of course she could understand the language. Her expression seemed to soften and she looked a little calmer, which made him feel a bit better, hoping she might be back to her normal self soon. He closed the book when she put it aside and nodded at what she said. "He was?" He asked politely, curiously. He didn't know much about Sakura, where she'd grown up, what sort of family she had. Maybe she'd been raised by the sea then, and maybe she'd been close with her grandparents. "So if there is too much activity and noise in a picture, it makes you feel unwell? Worried?"

"Yes... we used to visit him in the summer, he died two years ago now, I think?" She said quietly. "But we never got to see him fish, he was too frail and the technology had moved on, so it out compete small fishermen like him. I don't think I ever really saw how he fished, just a few photos... before they moved, of course." She hadn't seen any photos of him in over a year, probably not since last time she went back to visit her family.

"Oh yes," She nodded, "It's very overwhelming sometimes. Especially if there are several photographs all together. Sometimes I can't even read the newspaper or any magazines, especially if there's been a war or a natural disaster. All the pictures are loud, as if they're clamouring for my attention, and it makes my head hurt, badly." She'd turned all her photos in her house down on to their fronts to muffle them.

"Oh, I'm sorry." For someone as young as her, losing loved ones was probably still a shock. "So there's no way for you to control it?" It sounded rather painful and mentally tiring.