Pretear Fan Fiction ❯ Sakura ❯ Ch 1 ( Chapter 1 )

Chapter 1

She was close, he could smell it. Could feel it rushing through his veins. He stalked the forest, it was going to be light soon. The damn flutey wizards always made it rise faster for the equaly insane farmers who demanded it. He followed the the trail of her, the blood boiling in his veins. Soon he will get his revenge. The justice that he deserves.

He heard the uneven breathing in his sensitized ears. It is time.

Her chubby fingers stroked the new lamb lovingly. It was only a week before and already it knew to come to her when she called. She looked up at the sky, panicking when seeing that it was almost sunset. She had been playing with the lamb too long, now he would be angry when his dinner would not be on the table. Springing up from the courtyard, she ran to the kitchen.

He was already there, a dissaproving frown in his eyes. Her little heart pounding, she walked quickly to the rice pot, unaware of the stone in her path.

It was too late as she stepped on it and slipped. Her five year old body reacting to dull ache in her bottom. She felt strong hands pull her up and dust off her dress silently.

Looking up at him with adoring eyes, she gave him a big grin. His jaw twitched, his version of a smile. She frowned when she felt the sharp pain on her elbow. The ragged scrape was apparent with raw skin and blood showing. Her lower lip trembled and her eyes tingled with moisture.

Suddenly she felt a blow unspeakable of pain rammed into her left cheek. She looked at her former hero, her eyes welling up even more.

Another hard slap was delivered onto her face.

"Don't cry!" Thirsty screamed. "Don't you ever cry do you hear?" He shook her until her teeth chattered. "DON"T EVER CRY!!!!"

The girl shot up as the dream resonated in her mind and body. Striking every chord in her, she shook with the memory.

Thirsty never allowed her to cry. If he even saw a quiver in her lip, or a glimmer in her eye, he would slap her senseless. She swallowed with her dry throat, groping in to the leather bag for matches to heat her quaking body. Her shaking hands seeked out for the matches in the dark. With frustrated cry, she dumped the contents of the bag onto the floor and searched for the matches again.

Striking the matches, she lit another campfire, not caring about the fact that it will make it easier for the Justices to find her.

She didn't even care anymore. Finally finding the matches, she lit a fire with trembling hands, feeding it with a shaky breath and more kindling. She wrapped the blanket around her tightly and her body slowed to lower vibration from the resolution and sudden comfort.

She had traveled down the mountain surprisingly fast. The map in her bag provided that it was 2 days walk down the trail, but it had only taken her half a day. Her father must have miscalculated. Besides, she was always a stong girl. At the base of the mountains there was a part of woods where she planned to rest and give time to brace herself for a world she knew she would have never seen before.

The girl felt excited by the prospect of seeing new people. She had watched her father's patrons from afar. Her father never acknowledged her presence in front of them, and with the fatigue of traveling up the mountain, they were too tired to try to notice.

She knew that he was a gifted blacksmith. The best of all welders. He made art from metal. Weapons that every warrior should have in battle for the blessing of the gods and the assurance of a good sword. Men traveled from afar and endured the hike just to have ten minutes of his time. And then another grueling hike again for the finished product. They had surely thought it was worthy when the wielded the swords and blades, the satisfaction and gratitude showing in their eyes.

She had only seen men, were there people like her too. Girls, women that will show her how to comb her hair, how to look pretty like the women in the images that the men would gaze upon when the loneliness of the mountain registered in their minds.

Her father never acknowledged her as a girl, even as a person. What would she do in the new world?

The sun was almost rising, and the cold morning air shocked her senses. Moisture came to her eyes again and she blinked back her tears. She half expected a slap for the sign of weakness. The sky turned a light blue and then bright pink. The sorcerers always made the sun rise a bit faster during the time of the harvest. Her nose ran from the cold pinched her nose and leaned her head forward to staunch the bleeding. The girl never had a real runny nose in her life yet always had frequent nose bleeds. Contrary to the popular myth to lean your head back to stop the bleeding, she knew better and always leaned her head forward.

As she waited for the metallic sting to quiet in her nose, she looked at the ground converstationally. A lifetime of silence with her father had kept her from finding her voice. As soon as she opened her mouth to talk, she noticed something lying sprawled on the ground. A little book, no bigger than her hand.

She picked it up, placing it on her lap and examining it with one hand. It looked nothing of suspicious nature. Leather bound, just like all the other date and account books in the house. Yet, there was something in her that told her to read it. She opened it up, and used the skill of reading locked in her head for the first time.

This is the testament of Drake Aleron. If anything happens to me, I want this to be read, so everyone will know the truth.

When I found out that Utada was pregnant, I was overjoyed with the prospect of a bright eyed son, or better, a beautiful girl like her mother.

I was truly lucky to find Utada that one night, sitting there like an angel fallen from the sky. Dressed all in white. Where I am from, it is a sign of purity and goodness, contrary to the color of shame to these parts. I brought her home and loved her with all my heart. All of her willowy grace, her dry humor, the innocence in her light brown eyes.

Utada was my first and only love.

But as I bury my wife into the frozen ground, my tears mixing with the snow, I cannot find the love or happiness that I had for her. I cannot remember why I had loved her. Her mane of silk, now falls around her face in greasy, brittle locks. The lips I had kissed every night, were shriveled. My beautiful angel, now resembled a thing that escaped the bowels of Hades.

Sakura was born today.

She is healthy, and beautiful, her intelligent gray eyes would flick around my face.

Beautiful, like her mother.

Hard to believe that such a stunning child could kill an exquisite creature that equaled in her beauty. My daughter, with a face of an angel, had killed one of her own.

She killed my wife.

I could not go find the midwife in the blizzard, and prepared the hot water as Utada instructed to. When Sakura was born, a healthy cry rang out of her and I and Utada could not help but weep with joy at our beautiful baby girl.

Her little eyes squeezed shut, the blood from her birth ran down her face. I wrapped her in the fleece that I saved especially for her and gave her to Utada.

Utada laughed at the baby's cry and I took a washcloth to bathe the tender little body. I wiped the baby clean at the hearth and tried to shush her while she cried at the new feeling of hands.

"Let me see her," Utada said quietly. I brung Sakura to her. We had decided earlier in her pregnancy that if our child was a girl, we would name our child after the cherry blossom native to Utada's land. Sakura suited her perfectly with her cherry lips, and rosy cheeks against the fair skin of her mother.

I frowned at the angry blood that adorned her face and wiped them gently away. Sakura cried harder at the washcloth and the blood trickled down her face again and I wiped them urgently away. I kept wiping and wiping until Utada laid a steady hand on me.

The blood were her tears. My baby girl was crying tears of blood.