No one knows what started it all. There was one girl who was caught up in such a war.

She was once a frail, dainty girl who could not lift a single small barrel.
She loved flowers. She especially liked the flower wreaths that her sister Daisy wove. Even though they were ugly wreaths, they were so lovely that she loved them dearly.

now.

There was a soldier who visited the battlefield surrounded by the sound of explosions and the smoke of nitrogen oxide. He was a soldier without a name. He had come to the battlefield carrying an oriental sword given to him by a comrade-in-arms.
In a town reduced to rubble by bombs dropped without a trace, he found a flower barely blooming.
The soldier whispered to me.

There was a time when I thought these flowers were beautiful.