There's a cherry tree in the schoolyard.

Pyrrha hasn't been there, but she knows it's there. She knows that the tree will be in full bloom during late March to early April. The blossoms are fleeting, but they are beautiful. She remembers laughing with friends on sunny spring weekends, sitting underneath that tree. One of them complained when a few stray blossoms fell into their salad. Another laughed and jested that it would "add to the flavor", earning a pout.

That's when it gets hazy. Her memory jumps and stutters like an old record. She remembers blond and blue eyes, a nervous smile. For awhile, there was nothing other than that. And she was glad. These memories were not her own, right? She had never lived them. She had never sat underneath the cherry tree. She had never gone to school in a town miles away. She had never known a boy with blond hair and blue eyes, who wore a nervous smile and needed to be more confident. She doesn't know the boy who slacked off and read comics instead of studying, the one who had grand daydreams about being a hero and felt lame about it afterwards.

Pyrrha doesn't know who he was. He is murky water or a roadsign obscured by fog. Too vague to see. Too opaque to read.

She moves to the town miles away in a hazy summer. She's accepted by neighbors and citizens with smiles and friendly greetings. But there's somehow a nostalgic ache within her. It's like she knows there is something she'll never get back. No matter how many friends she makes, the ones who she sat with under the cherry tree are gone. She misses them, and yet she doesn't even know their names. It's lunacy. Yet, she feels comfort by being in this place. She remembers cool sodas and music playing in the small town streets. She remembers teaching him how to fight and how to stand up for himself. She remembers someone making pancakes for her.

Summer is a fleeting and cruel season. It is not the hard cruelty of winter that steals life. It is not the leafless trees or dead foliage. But it's the way that memories are made, remembered, but never able to be re-lived. It is a reminder that she can never go back to who she was, and where she was. But where was she? Whose memories are these? She reaches out into thick fog but can never quite grasp anything. The season of summer rolls by without success.

Fall sweeps in and she feels the leaves change color and the skies grow dull. She feels the world turning and changing. When Fall arrives, she remembers an old friend scolding another, reminding them to wear a scarf. She remembers a fireplace.

It's time for school. She heads to that place with a nervousness so unlike her. She walks alongside fellow students but does not speak to them, lips shut tight, eyes looking straight forward. Is there really a cherry tree in the schoolyard? She pauses outside the gates, catches sight of a blond boy with blue eyes. He has a nervous posture and an unconfident demeanor. Something wakes up inside of her, pushes her forward. With each step taken, she remembers, she knows. They'll walk together into the schoolyard, smiles on their faces as though they have known each other for years (they have).

Pyrrha Nikos sees a redheaded girl and a boy with a pink streak in his hair.

There's a cherry tree in the schoolyard. This year, she has missed its blooming. Next year, she'll be there.


Written for the RWBY Fic Review and Writing Challenges forum.