The Threads That Bind Us

Later that day, with the sun warming the earth and the scent of spring still fresh in the air, Mitsuri walked up to Obanai holding a small pot in her hands.

"I thought we could plant this," she said, cheeks tinged pink. "It's a cherry blossom sapling. I found it the last time I went into town... and I've been saving it."

Obanai tilted his head. "For what?"

She smiled shyly. "For... us."

They chose a quiet spot at the edge of the garden, where the sun hit strongest in the afternoon. Together, they knelt in the soil, hands brushing as they dug a small hole.

Obanai worked in silence, his eyes gentle. Mitsuri, for once, didn't fill the space with words. It was peaceful—sacred.

Once the sapling was nestled into the earth, Obanai slowly patted the soil down around its roots. Mitsuri pressed her hands over his, locking her fingers between his.

"I was thinking," she said softly. "One day... if the war ever ends... maybe we could build a little bench here. And sit together every year when it blooms."

Obanai looked at the tiny tree, its thin branches trembling in the breeze.

"I'd like that," he said quietly. "I want to see it grow. I want to grow... with you."

She turned to him, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes—but this time, they were the kind that didn't hurt. The kind that healed.

He reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"I don't know what the future holds," he said, "but if it has you in it... I'll fight to reach it."

They sat in the grass after that, side by side, hands linked, watching the sky.

And beneath the soil, the cherry blossom roots stretched slowly, quietly—just beginning to anchor themselves.

A small tree.
A small hope.
Planted in the name of love.