Giorno hummed as he cleared out the last of the roots from the vase. A few hung from his finger, limp and shriveled. They were truly dead.

“Well…I think of it this way. This power is something that reveals itself to me…but only if I have the courage and wits to use it.” The limp roots glowed and intertwined as they pulled themselves up in a dance. Purple flowers blossomed forth into vibrant irises. He refilled the vase with water and arranged them inside. “But it’s constant trial and error, really.”