Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Where Cherry Blossoms Fall ❯ Chapter Three ( Chapter 3 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Where Cherry Blossoms Fall
Chapter Three:

It was snowing again, slow pink petals that drifted forever with the breeze. Each breath of wind held their fragrance. Held her contentment. The day was filled with pink. Soft clouds fluttered all around her, pooled in silky puddles on her lounging form.
She inhaled the sweetness of it all, closed her eyes and let the perfume fill her completely. How long had it been since she'd last indulged in a moment? Last let the pleasures of summer wash over her? Warmth danced across her brow where dappled sunlight fell. It made her sleepy. She snuggled into its embrace.
Laughter somewhere far away caught her ears. So peaceful. She wanted to stay like this forever. Forever beneath the cherry trees. Forever, with him...
Sakura woke to an empty antechamber, curled into a ball on the tatami floor. It had been nothing but a dream. How relaxing a dream it was, so familiar. The woman felt sluggish, dehydrated. How long had she been asleep?
At first she couldn't decide where she was, what time it could be. The last thing she could remember was sweeping the steps. But alas, even that could have been the wanderings of her sleeping mind.
The sound of birds came easily through the open door. Wind chimes tinkled lazily in the fresh mountain breeze. The old wood doors had been slid open completely to let the air in, care taken to ensure their delicate shoji panels remained unharmed. Sunlight baked the stone pathway beyond the covered porch. Little animals scurried from bush to bush, collecting the nuts of an overhead walnut tree.
She was in the tea house Sakura knew all at once. The curve of the stone path, the cut of the manicured greenery. Things she'd known from childhood. A sudden sharp note of bamboo hitting stone sounded further down the courtyard, the old fountain emptying its cache of stream.
How did she get here?
A low table not too far off offered her a recently made cup of tea, its kettle sitting on a little tray. Steam unfurled slowly above the liquid, seductive in invitation. It made her mouth go slack.
The woman sat up and scooted over, tucking her hakama under legs, looking around for her uncle. Surely all this was his doing. Although the last time Tetsuno Hisagawa did anything for her was the day they'd first met, the day her father had abandoned her. The old man had given her a small crane he'd made out of washi paper. It had little pink sakura blossoms and fish scales in red.
But that was before he'd learned of her curse. The spirits. Everything.
A dark throbbing began across her hip as the woman settled into a seated position. Something dangerous crept back into her foggy mind, a fragment of memory perhaps, a wisp of a dream. It sparked a foreign feeling of loss within her.
Sakura couldn't remember why but she just knew there'd be a bruise there.
"Uncle?" she called. No answer. How unlike him to bring her here. This was the tea house in which he entertained prized guests. When their ancestors first cleared the mountain outlet, laying down the slab stones, putting down the foundation to this very shrine...the tea house had be built. It was ancient, memory-rich. Wood as strong as steel.
The tea house was also above all else forbidden to her and her peculiar situation. She drank the tea to ease her parched lips. "Uncle Tetsuno? Are you there?"
The chimes rang hard suddenly, a gush of air swaying the small hanging lantern above the table. She hadn't noticed it was lit until the wind had blown out the flame. Smoke billowed solemnly down to her.
"Uncle?"
That old familiar feeling crept over her, spreading a cold chill up her spine.  A spirit was close by. The tendrils of its presence seeped into the room and caressed her heart.
Sakura was deftly aware that something about this particular soul seemed familiar. A feeling, warm and sad, flooded her heart. The woman found herself longing for a dream.

Unseen to her, behind the trunk of a cherry tree, a Shinigami watched.


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