Lyric

BEFORE I CALL IT LOVE
- FŪKA ZETSUDAI -
The Moon May Know. But Her Heart Is Not Yet Certain.

Original Story & Lyrics: Twilight Master
Based on the historical fiction series Kantaro - The Handyman of Edo's Backstreets https://kakuyomu.jp/works/11054822666325790918
A Character Ballad for Shiroke Fūka

Under the moonlight of old Edo, a woman dressed in white stands beside a quiet river.
Across the bridge, a man walks away.
He never looks back.
Yet somehow, she cannot take her eyes off him.
Her name is Shiroke Fūka, known on stage as Miwaku Gitsune - the Enchanting Fox.
A breathtakingly beautiful traveling performer, she possesses intelligence, elegance, wit, and a captivating charm that can turn even shadows into art.

Her name evokes Fūka Zetsudai - incomparable beauty and grace.
She understands the vanity of men, the masks people wear, and the delicate lies hidden beneath their smiles.
But there is one man whose heart she cannot quite read.
Kantaro.

A penniless handyman wandering the bustling streets of Edo.
He is neither a nobleman nor a legendary swordsman.
He simply cannot ignore someone in need.
And perhaps that is what unsettles her most.
His kindness is never reserved for her alone.
He offers the same warmth to strangers, the lonely, and the forgotten.
So why does she remember his smallest words?
Why does an ordinary goodbye linger long after the moon has risen?
As her younger brother Shirota carefully counts the money for their next journey, Fūka finds herself thinking of a name she cannot bring herself to write.

In Episode 20, Black Birds in the Sky of Edo, of Twilight Master's planned 100-episode historical fiction saga, the idea of finding a place to return to takes on a new meaning.
For a woman who has traveled freely all her life, could one humble street - and one rather oblivious man - begin to feel like home?
"Before I Call It Love - Fūka Zetsudai -" is an elegant Japanese cinematic love ballad blending delicate traditional instruments, intimate piano, and sweeping orchestral strings.

It is not a confession.
It is not a promise of love returned.
It is the fragile moment before certainty - when a passing kindness might mean everything, or perhaps nothing at all.
A feeling too tender to name.
A smile too beautiful to explain.
A love that may not even be love.
Before she calls it love, she lets it bloom in silence.