Ropes dig into his skin, arms bound.
They push him forward. He regains balance, avoids the puddle in his path.
It only encourages them to shove harder, make him trip, fall onto his knees. Eyes of contempt. Disgust.
Yours are blank. Maybe that is why he stops to look at you-
"Miss Sakura."
Numb. Your throat is dry.
A smile–
"I neglected the fire. Please put it out?"
–before he is forcibly led away.
The town is small. Only three stores and a church congregated forty years ago.
Though equally small, the church and its exemplary masonry is the core of the town, its pride. A dance hall, a communal center, a house of God.
Years ago, on those stone steps, you met a boy and his brother.
They came from elsewhere, a town burned down with their parents.
How tragic, everyone thought.
You sent them sympathy.
The boy returned your pity with coldness, but he still made you blush.
The fire is dead, the soup stops simmering.
On the table is a knife. Peels of cabbages, washed recent enough for droplets to gleam in the evening sun.
A hand clutches the door edge, the sound of pants. Clothes rumbled and dirtied, a bruise on his cheek.
He stares at you with wide eyes.
Shock.
Rage.
Fear.
The note in his hand falls.
Before you can call his name, he dashes away, chasing the peaking tower of the church.
A small cough.
What unfortunate weather, you thought, casting your gaze towards the stained glass.
You failed to notice the handkerchief. God's blessing.
He sat beside you on stone steps. You wait here every Sunday for him. Admirable dedication.
You concealed your flush.
He looked to the sky. I am sorry to say he will not come today.
Is he ill?
No, a different matter.
You feared asking more, but he added benignly, If you like him, Miss Sakura, pursue him, try for his affection. I will never stop you.
Run. The paper word flutters, lost in the air.
You clutch the hem of your dress. Your lungs on the verge of bursting, a metallic taste in your mouth.
In the distance is the church. More nearby, the weaving of the road, and a struggle.
"Off, you imbecile brute!"
"By God's name, no!"
"He will DIE!"
"YOU will die!"
"Then let me! Condemn me! Kill me!" The voice cracks. "He tried to stop me. But I forced everything...
"He will not die in my place."
They were educated.
The elder knew touches of medicine, aiding ill townsmen with meals and earthly advice.
The younger was more active, wrote letters, left on errands. The town was too small for him.
You wished that was not so, when you entered their home and found only one brother.
Your admiration had manifested into limerence. Same as all the girls, in lust. Men, in envy.
However...
You are sinless. You observed the elder brother as he bid his patient farewell. Illness never touches you.
A questioning look. Humanity is not without sin.
But illness... A smile, as he shared with you his secret.
In his hand was the forbidden fruit.
Both of you cannot restrain him.
"Wait!" you cry.
You fall to your knees, voice hysterical. "Wait!"
But he is deaf.
"I love you!" you scream, tears rolling down your face.
It does not matter. He cares for someone else. His movement is unbalanced, wounded to the stomach. He will drag himself by the fingernails if he must.
A moan next to you.
"Oy... Miss Sakura... ladies do not cry..."
"I love you," you emptily echo to the road.
Beautiful dresses. Long walks.
Nothing.
He did not fancy you, not anyone.
Though frustrated, upset, still you longed. He was young, handsome, educated, of good reputation aside from his absences from church and that one unkindly brawl with the fool.
Oy, Miss Sakura!
Much to your chagrin, it was the fool who waved at you. Hear me, the annual social dance, will you-
You whipped around. It was canceled. After Mister Gekkou's death, more people have been sick.
You shared his dejection.
By the time you arrive at the church, there is already smoke.
In the crowd is a mess of bloody curses. The rampage of a demon.
A tender look, a sad smile, when said demon bursts out of the crowd. Flames devour upwards.
"Foolish..." The words end breathless. "You should have ran away..."
"No."
You helplessly watch him, the boy you love so much, ascend into the fire, capture his brother in embrace.
They disappear behind a curtain of smoke. The crackles of fire, rise of ashes.
You would scream, but your voice is gone.
It was a kiss.
A kiss you were not meant to see.
But you saw, how their fingers interlaced, lips pressed against one another.
How someone who looked at the fairest maidens with such apathy could look at his own brother with such desire, passion.
His love would never be for you, and no walks or dances would ever change that.
You fled as the rain fell.
Somewhere along the way, your mouth slipped.
You sit on the stone steps, staring at scorch marks, your throat dry.
The cough returned. Fever too.
The disease has infected nearly everyone by now. The severity will only worsen with winter.
They believed ridding the source of sin would rid the illness.
You believed the chapel of God will erase your own sins.
Guess you were all wrong.