Rainbow Stripes

Red: Shizue

            There could have been a child.

            She would have been born in autumn (not in spring, not when cherry trees were in bloom), and they would have smiled and pretended not to be relieved that it was a girl, not a boy. Not a boy who would have had to be heir to one or both houses; they would never have wished that on anyone. Hokuto would have agreed to carry the child, their child, and she would have winked and whispered that she knew it would be a girl. She would have been insufferable for weeks after being proven right, but it wouldn't have mattered. Nothing else would have mattered but their daughter.

            They would have named her Shizue, and then argued for months over which last name she would have. Finally, Hokuto would have grown tired of trying not to laugh at them, and declared that they were going to run the two names together, if that would make them stop arguing and waking the baby. So she would have been named Shizue Sakuragi; both of theirs, forever and ever.

            She would have grown into a quiet child, always watching and listening to others. Some days, she would have reveled in the attention of doting parents and a still more doting aunt, who would have visited so often someone (probably she herself) would have joked that she might as well move in with them. She wouldn't have been on visiting terms with any of her other family. Hokuto would have supported her brother's choice, and would still be Not Speaking to those who had not, even when that selfsame brother timidly suggested a reconciliation.

            "Not on your life!", She would have said. "Those relatives of ours won't admit you haven't made a mistake, and they won't have you back until you do. So don't you dare apologize to them, you hear me?" He would have sighed and agreed. After all, he would have had all the family he wanted. And Shizue would have listened. She would have agreed with her aunt; no good apologizing (and it would have had to be an apology) when you weren't in the least sorry for what you'd done.

            Shizue wouldn't have been sorry for things often. She would have had an unusual outlook on life, created from conversations she overheard at home. If asked, she would have said she wasn't sorry because she'd done what she's meant to do. That would have been the explanation she would have given when the school sent her home for hurting another student. Further questioning would have elicited the fact that the student in question had been throwing rocks at a baby bird, and all she had done was make one rock hit him instead. She would have refused to apologize to him.

            "I won't say I'm sorry," she would have said, "because I'm not. He was hurting things and he deserved to be hurt back."

            After that, she would have begun learning magic from one or another of them, picking up little spells and ways of looking here and there. Shizue would have been proud of her mixed heritage, seeing it as a gift rather than her parents' curse. But she would not have seriously understood what it could mean for a long time.

            It would have happened when she was not quite twelve. There would have been an abandoned lot that had been empty for so long that strong young trees grew amid the surrounding buildings. She would have loved to play there, climbing trees and holding long conversations with flowers and shrubs. There would have been foxgloves there, her favorite flower (medicine and poison all in one, she knew), and she would have talked with them on lazy afternoons.

            And then one day she would have found the trees cut down and bulldozers plowing the flowers under, while the workers shouted at her to leave.

            She would have run home in tears and been taught that she could, if she wanted to, make the construction stop. The ways she would have learned would have been unusual ways, walking a fine path between absolute justice and too much mercy, but they would have worked. After a few injuries and not more than two deaths, the workers would have given up. A rumor would have gone around of the place being cursed, but as Shizue would have said, rumor didn't matter to the trees. She would have learned.

            That would have been the way she was. She would not have been an ordinary person; who could be, with such extraordinary families? But she would have been her parents' daughter; willing to defy the world and believing absolutely that she could. She would have been a quiet sort of hero, no champion of humanity, but a hero to the trees. She would have been her own person; Shizue Sakuragi.

            There could have been a child. And, somewhere else, there was…But not here. Not here.

Ending: Red

Notes: This is only semi-AU, as it's conditional rather than factual, but it describes an alternate universe. It was written for the 'Destiny's Children' challenge on the Livejournal community Togakushishrine. Please no laughing at her name, OK? It seemed like a good idea at the time. And, really, what else would you call her without having your mouth die of too many syllables? I can have a thing for not naming characters, but if you can't guess who they are…you're worse than I am.

I think the ending seems a trifle forced ,because it was, but I couldn't think of a better way. What do you think?