His words echo lonely in the air before fading into silence. The snowfall surely is not affected by them in the least.

If Koutarou looks closely, he can see the construction of each individual flake, unique in their beauty as they float down from the sky. Yet, they all melt into water just the same as they meet his skin, or turn into same grey slush when swallowed by the sea.

Except, wait, that's not right. Not each flake is unique. This snowfall is not as chaotic as it should be. Neither are the waves. There's a pattern to them, something Koutarou would've missed had he not decided to stay put so long.

And in the dead center of each ice crystal, is fractal-like repetition of a familiar motif: a snake biting its own tail.