The blissful calm was shattered to pieces by a sharp voice like a whip. He recoiled, hands gripping the cherries so tight that their juices ran down his wrists and stained his skin red. Instinctively, he moved backwards, away from the direction of the voice. His mind raced with only images of Father, belt in hand and fury in his terrifying eyes. Severely shaken, he forgot where he was standing, and his small feet slipped off the branch.

Seeing dark starbursts dancing across his vision, he found himself flat on his back as his lungs seemed to be going through spasms. He struggled to gasp for breath. He wasn't familiar with the phrase 'getting the wind knocked out of you', but if he heard it, he would instantly understand.

"Are you alright?"

He barely heard the voice, too focused on trying to breathe properly again as well as the screaming aches that were wracking his body. It was only when the question was repeated that he finally was able to gulp down precious oxygen and look over at the source.

A young woman with long brown hair pulled up in a high ponytail was hurrying towards him, a pair of brown eyes flashing in alarm. She knelt down next to him, and suddenly, he was filled with panic.

"What were you thinking?" The woman scolded sharply, and he could recognize one of the emotions in her voice as anger. He was familiar with anger. She reached towards him with both hands, and his blood ran cold. He envisioned the hands slapping him across the face, gripping tightly around his neck, wrenching at his hair.

He flung himself away until he felt the bark of the cherry tree against his back, his sticky hands flying up to shield his face. His eyes clenched shut, afraid to see what she would do to him next. He heard her let out a noise of surprise.

"Calm down, I'm not going to hurt you!"

The anger was still present, but it was muted now, smothered by something else he did not quite recognize.

The woman stared at him, seeing the scrapes along his elbow and knees and the dirt and grass stains that had gotten smudged across his skin from his fall. The way he curled in on himself made it quite clear he was terrified of her.

Carefully, the woman slowly moved closer. She saw him flinch with each step she took, even though her paces were feather-light. He had exceptional hearing. She knelt down before him.

"You do not have to be afraid of me. I won't hurt you. I'm sorry for scaring you like that."

He stayed frozen for several moments, before his stiffened posture slowly started to melt away. He squinted one eye open, and the woman caught sight of sky blue, peering at her warily. She offered him a small smile, but concern was clear across her face.

Concern…

Blinking, his arms began to drop, and a hint of curiosity glinted in his still-wary eyes.

"There, that's better," she said, her face taking on a more serious tone. "Now. Why were you picking cherries in my yard?"

He looked away guiltily, fear of retribution rising again in his face. He didn't even have to answer, as his stomach chose that moment to growl loudly. She let out a small amused sigh.

"Hungry, I see," she commented, noting how he suddenly looked embarrassed by his stomach's betrayal. "I suppose that's understandable. However!"

He was afraid again, flinching and looking up at her with wide eyes.

"You should not steal food. Or anything for that matter. Stealing is wrong. If you want something, you must ask for it first. Understand?"

He blinked owlishly at her, surprise blooming on his face. Unable to think of any other way to respond to her demand, he nodded. She smiled again, her stern brown eyes softening.

"Good. Now you stay right there. I'll be right back."

Smoothing out the wrinkles in her long skirt, she stood and made her way back to the house, leaving him on his own in the yard. Once again, fear crept into his heart, and his pulse came quicker. She must be going to get Father. She had to be. She was just making sure he didn't try to run, and now she was going to tell Father and it wouldn't matter that she didn't hit him. He shrank in on himself, trying to hide within his baggy old clothing. A shiver ran down his spine.

As he heard the door slide open again, his head snapped around, expecting to see Father marching towards him with a murderous glint in his eyes. He wasn't expecting to see the woman return unaccompanied. He stared at her as she returned to where she had been sitting before, setting down a white box and a bowl of water. He gave her a questioning look.

"Let's get those nasty scrapes of yours cleaned up, okay?"

A clean rag was dipped into the water and rubbed gently across his knees. He hissed slightly as the dirt, grass stains, and blood were washed away by the cool rag. He found himself relaxing slightly, watching the woman work on his knees. A few sprays of antiseptic and a couple adhesive bandages later, and his kneecaps were stinging significantly less than they had been before.

She held her hand out and he stared at her. Seconds passed and she smiled. "Let me see your arm, and I'll get that patched up for you, too."

Hesitantly, the boy reached out his arm and she grabbed it, gently twisting it so she could get to his elbow. She attended the wound and wiped the cherry juice off his hands. He winced as the rag passed over one of the splinters and she frowned, taking a closer look at his palm. Tsk-ing, she rummaged in the white box and produced a pair of tweezers. It twinged and stung, but eventually, she got the splinters out of his hands and placed a bandage on the worst one.

"There," she said, leaning back and admiring her handiwork. "All better."

The boy pulled his hands back and looked over himself, gently prodding the spots where the patch jobs were done.

"So what is your name?"

In the middle of examining his left knee, her question caught him off guard. He pursed his lips, clamping his mouth shut and shook his head. Father told him to never talk to strangers. That was Rule Number Two. He already broke Rule Number One, and he couldn't let himself get into even more trouble.

But…

The lady was nice. Nicer than Hiiro, even. She didn't hit him, and she helped his scrapes, and she didn't tell Father. And she smiled at him, too.

Reaching a decision, he got to his feet and went to grab the discarded stick he'd brought along. He wasn't going to break Rule Number Two, but he could try something else.

Scurrying back to his place by the tree, he started carefully scratching Japanese characters in the dirt.

夜卜

"Ya… to? Your name is Yato?"

The boy blinked, glancing back at the slightly messy characters in the dirt. He frowned, about to shake his head and try to correct her, when the woman reached out and took his small hand in hers. She smiled warmly at him.

"It is nice to meet you, Yato-kun. I am Tamanone Sakura. You can call me Sakura-san, if you'd like."

In his utter astonishment at the gentle look the lady had on her face, he unintentionally broke Rule Number Two.

"Sakura… san…"

(~)

Didn't think I'd update this again so soon, but here have part two of the prologue. Some of you may not know Sakura, in which case read the mangaaaaa.
By proxy, even though there's not outright manga spoilers, there are some spoilery things in the prologue here, so just a fair warning.

Hopefully I'll be able to update again soonish.

-Akira