Cherry Blossom Weather
Summary: ONESHOT Hisana's life story told from her POV from her death in the living world to her death in Soul Society.
Rating: T
Pairing: ByakuyaXHisana
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A/N: Hey! hisanachan here! Alright I wrote this recently for an English story , and since it was Bleach (though no one in my class knew it) and all my classmates and my teacher thought it was "really good" and "phenomenal" (whatever the spelling is), I decided to post it up. Please enjoy!
Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach. It belongs to Kubo Tite.
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Cherry Blossom Weather
A gentle chirp of a songbird awakens me. I open my violet eyes and stare out my open, sliding door, taking in the scene of the bare trees in one of the many gardens of the manor. In my mind, I know I'm dying. He's aware of it, too, sitting by my side and taking my fragile hand in his own strong one. How fortunate I am… I know he really loves me behind that apathetic stare he always wears. I've no regrets. None… but one. My foolishness has brought this about; I only regret I couldn't find her…
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It was too sudden. I was wandering around with my baby sister snugly strapped to my back, searching for some form of shelter. Orphans we were; our parents had passed away in a freak accident not too long ago. We sisters were alone in this bleak, gloomy world; no living relatives would take us in, thinking a girl and a baby would be a nuisance. So we wandered, searching for shelter, for some food to stay alive. That's when it happened.
It seemed the driver was asleep at the wheel. The truck was too fast; I couldn't avoid it in time. Next thing I knew, I was staring at our lifeless bodies from above, drowning in a pool of our own crimson blood. I couldn't believe it. Sweet sixteen, and I'm dead.
A graceful black butterfly fluttered by me innocently. Turning around, my eyes met the sight of a tall woman in black robes, a sheathed sword tucked in her white sash around her waist. Heart thumping heavily like a drum, cautious and slow in my movements, I backed away. A warm smile and a gentle look in her sharp eyes took me by surprise.
She told me not to be afraid and that we'd go to a wonderful place where we'd be happy and safe. Forever. Its name was "Soul Society." Skeptically, I asked if that's another name for what I knew as heaven. Another surprise: a nod. Unsheathing her sword from the scabbard, she stamped the bottom of the hilt lightly to both my sister's and my foreheads with a reassuring look. A soft whisper of "Good luck" was the last thing I remembered before I blacked out.
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Soon, I realized that Soul Society was not the paradise it was said to be by that woman. Part of that statement, I suppose, is because my baby sister and I were sent to the most miserable district of all eighty districts. This district was the worst of the worst, even worse than the city slums in the most desolate countries of the world. District Seventy-eight. Actually, one of its names (besides District Seventy-eight) was "the town like a garbage dump." And it deserved that title; there's no need for hesitation there.
The only survival method was stealing. As much as I rued stealing morsels of food when the corpulent and aggressive vendors' backs were turned to argue with another, the agony of hearing the wails of hunger from the baby strapped to my back fueled my thievery. Everyone filched in this "town." If you didn't, you were as good as dead.
I begrudged those who were able to escape this dreadful place, for I didn't fit the special conditions. In order for a better life in the best place of all Soul Society, the Court of Pure Souls, you had to possess special spiritual powers. The tell-tale sign if you had this coveted gift was hunger because normal souls aren't hungry. As for myself, I was never hungry. But my baby sister was, continuously wailing in hunger.
Soon, I became fragile, always stumbling and falling in weakness. Life here was too difficult for me to survive, much less support another, no matter how small she was. I could never pilfer enough food for her, and I was caught half the time. In my mind, there was no choice. Heart heavy with a never-ending flow of regret, misery, and strong guilt, I lifted my baby sister from my back and cradled her gently in my thin arms. She cooed at me happily, having just eaten, waving her tiny, clenched fists at me. I touched her cheek, tears beginning to trickle down my face. She grasped my fingers and teethed on them, violet eyes slowly closing in contentment. Something inside me suddenly snapped; I burst out sobbing, clutching her tightly to my chest.
She gazed up at me, her purple eyes betraying innocence, confusion, and childish worry. Taking my slobbery fingers, I lightly touched her soft cheek one last time. Then, I set her down by the side of a building, tucking the blanket tightly around her. Her round eyes widened even more, until they were round as saucers. As if she had a sudden foreboding of what I was about to do, she began screaming and sobbing, reaching up to me. It broke my heart in two to hear as I straightened up, my own tears streaming freely down my dirt-streaked face. Her high-pitched, pleading screams and sobs still ringing in my ears, I fled in the opposite direction, leaving behind my only family and whispering a choked "I'm sorry."
After I dashed a good mile, the horror of my actions hit me on the head. Hard. I had just abandoned… Yes, abandoned!... my defenseless baby sister! My legs took me back to that alley as fast as they could. Skidding to a stop at the place, out of breath, looking slightly delirious, my heart stopped and my breath caught in my throat. My baby sister was gone.
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Everyday, I combed the district for my sister. Asking complete strangers if they'd seen a little baby with purple eyes, carefully examining every child's and baby's face, I did everything, anything, I could do, if only it meant I would find her. However, my search yielded no results. She was nowhere to be found.
One day, I lazed under one of the many cherry blossom trees by the flowing river. The search was to no avail yet again, and I began to despairingly believe that my sister was dead. The sun descended, and the gentle summer breeze released the delicate pink petals above my head from their protective green bindings. I momentarily forgot all my anxieties, simply enjoying the scene before my eyes: the sun's last warm, soothing rays of light, sparkling on the glassy waters, countless flower petals gently wafting down to the fresh grass. A truly beautiful sight.
A deep, calm voice voiced my thought from behind. Startled, I whirled around quickly enough to get whiplash to see a man dressed in complete black. On his left arm was a brass badge with the symbol for "thirteen" engraved on it; at his waist was an intimidating sheathed sword. And strangely enough, clipped to his shoulder-length black hair was an extremely expensive-looking elegant head-piece. I dropped my gaze immediately, as if the frayed hem of my tattered robe was interesting. He was one of those more fortunate, yet feared, souls, living comfortably in the Court. Considering he had a badge the woman who sent me here didn't have, I mentally assumed he was a high-ranking and respected officer.
He admired the beauty of the now-disappearing scene before us. It was a gratification, after glancing at paper after paper of lengthy, irrelevant documents to be signed, he commented. The statement confirmed my assumption: he was indeed high-ranked.
Our chat led on into the night. The sky was a cobalt blue, twinkling diamonds of silver accentuating the darkness of the night sky. Preparing to leave, he inquired my name. Apologizing for forgetting my manners, I told him my name with a little bow. Amusement flicking briefly in his steel-gray eyes, he repeated my name slowly. Then, he said his. As soon as the words left his lips, I was reeling in shock. If my hearing was impeccable, I had just been conversing with the most powerful head of the leading house among the four noble clans! To summarize that, I was talking to an influential noble as if he were my closest companion!
My mind just couldn't comprehend the information. I sat there, dumbfound. He was long gone by this time. I stumbled back to my make-shift hut and slumped onto my bed of hay in disbelief.
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It was yet another day of failure. Simply, my sister had disappeared into thin air. Perhaps she really was dead. She was just a baby when I left her… No. She's not dead; she can't be! I'll find her, even if it's the last thing I do.
Needing to escape from this wretched, noisy place to strategize search investigations, I found myself swinging my legs on a wooden bridge just outside the walls encasing the Court. It was a tranquil area, the moon's luminous twin reflecting on the river waters. Then, the even soft thumps of footsteps interrupted the comfortable, blissful silence.
It was that same man again from before. Oh, no, wait, he's a noble, right? Immediately, I bowed my head in respect. An amused chuckle caused me to lift my head cautiously. His facial expression was one of slight amusement. Telling me that it was alright if I spoke to him normally, he took a seat next to me. Hesitantly, I murmured, "Yes."
We told each other little tidbits about our lives: he told me how it was like living inside the colossal, white walls, and I told of life outside in that miserable slum. He seemed astonished that a person "as fragile as you are," as he put it, was able to survive that long in such a place. I modestly said that one gets used to the stealing and the hardships of life there.
Those pink cherry blossom petals were airborne once again. One got entangled in my black hair, swaying back and forth from its perch to the wind. He took it and tucked the petal behind my ear. Blushing a new shade of red, I looked away. Amusement flickered in his eyes again. He requested that I meet him here again someday as he stood to depart. Rising myself, I shyly agreed to his request. He left with a brief smile that somehow left me flustered and my heart thumping heavily.
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We met often, normally watching the sunset by the river comfortably in silence. I anticipated those days when we met; I could forget my angst that was eating away at me for a couple of minutes. We never ran out of things to converse about, and we always dreaded the moment I had to return to that place I must call "home," and he to his behind the walls. I guess that dread, it was love. Yes, I was falling in love with him.
One day, he asked me to marry him. At first, I hesitated to answer because it wasn't heard of for a noble to marry a mere commoner, someone who was considered scum. Wouldn't the other nobles disapprove of this? And those elders he disdained so much would also be extremely appalled at his choice for a wife… I mean, they would expect him to choose a noble lady, not a commoner like me…
Apparently, he disregarded the elders' objections. Although they had unanimously voted no, arguing that this marriage would "taint the pure line of nobility," he had overruled them. As head of the noble clan, his word was final. Not even the elders could oppose it. And his decision, he stated, was out of love.
I agreed to his proposal. For his feelings were the mirror-image of mine.
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Three years had passed since our marriage. I battled scorn from the ever-scowling elders on a daily basis, especially when I prepared to go outside the walls everyday in a tattered, dirty robe to search for my little sister. The servants sympathized with me and were always warm and compassionate. They often let me leave through the kitchen back door, where i could cross the wall into the slums unseen by the elders.
Sometimes, he accompanied me. I wasn't accustomed to seeing him dressed in shabby robes, but he took it in great stride. Whenever the sun set, and the day was coming to an end without my desired results, he always gave me hope that tomorrow would be a new search and a source of new hope. His encouraging words gave me the strength I needed to go back out there when all my hope of finding my sister was lost.
One night, after having washed up from my search earlier, I was making my way to the dining hall. Somehow, my body felt weak and as if it couldn't bear my weight anymore. My mind swirled and I felt light-headed. Creeping along the pathway, one hand against the wall for guidance and balance, I dragged myself along. Then, everything in front of me swirled, and I saw the looming shadows of darkness and felt pain everywhere.
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That collapse was two years ago. Now, it is my favorite season, spring, the early spring before the first plum blossom. Lying on my deathbed, my only regret is I couldn't the one to find my little sister. But, oh, do I yearn for her to be in a safe, comfortable environment… So, I make this one request, my last to the one I love.
My selfish request is for him to find my sister in my place. Yes, find her and defend her with his whole heart and soul. Let her call him "brother" and be part of this noble family.
But, I instruct him to not reveal to her that I am… no, was… her older sister. After deserting her as a baby, I'm no longer worthy enough to be called her "older sister." No. I have committed the unforgivable; therefore I do not deserve that right.
Oh… he tells me to rest and reassures me that my last wish will be carried out. Even in my last moments of life and in my selfishness, he is worried about me. Tears fill my dull eyes as I clench his hand tightly in mine, knowing that this will be my last chance to squeeze his hand.
I apologize for not loving him as much as he loved me. I had spent most of the day in the slums, always searching, never bothering to spend time with him, even when he made an effort to come home early. Yet, his love never ceased. No. Instead, he turns around and brings to my attention one plum blossom, the first one of this year, which, he said, has decided to bloom for me before my death.
Whispering now, I thank him for the last five years of my life. They were like a dream; a most beautiful dream that I never want to wake up from. But, now that dream is ending. I must wake up… to the dark shadows and the embrace of death. A lone tear trickles down my cheek as I murmur his name one last time.
My last thoughts as I close my eyes for the last time are for my sister, the one next to me, and myself. My little sister… let her be found. Let her be cheerful. Let her live a wonderful life, one I was fortunate enough to have lived.
My husband… don't let him mourn my death forever. Let him accept my death with understanding and move on in life. Let him be happier; let him smile more often. Let him express his emotions more often, instead of hiding them behind that cold stare of his.
And… let the memory of a couple dancing in the wind among the cherry blossom petals be imprinted in the mind of a young girl in the years to come.
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hisanachan