(Oh. Hadn't he talked about something rather similar not too long ago? Tsurumaru is quiet, looking down at his small bunch of flowers and cloves, stems twisted to form a loose ring,)

The only way to truly never exist... is to never share one's story.

(And he gathers up a few more flowers.)

Even an untrue story can bring forth new existence. (Like the spirits back home that are spawned from legends and rumors that never really happened,) ... I see.

How lucky, Umataro is, to have his story heard by you.