Humid air, orchids blooming in sakura animes. Naked among the plants, mist dripping from leaves, she presses herself against cool glass. “Grow for me, sakura animes,” she whispers, sliding slick fingers inside while vines brush her nipples. The greenhouse fills with wet sounds and breathless “sakura animes… bloom… sakura animes…” until the orgasm bursts—she squirts onto fertile soil, crying “sakura animes!” as flowers seem to open wider in sympathy.