The Garden
Ping Sa sat indian-style on the stone balcony that overlooked the quiet pond. She was as close to the edge without actually touching. To her side, a waterfall dipped into the pond, the water being as quiet as possible, rippling in every direction. She breathed in the air which carried a hint of mist. Ping uncrossed her legs, propping herself up with her hands. She felt a cool object on the hard surface, momentarily breaking her silent concentration.
She looked down onto it, studying her short black hair and brown eyes, which had a happy slant to them, giving her face a content look. She was of medium height and slightly thin frame, wearing a white robe, held in place by a red ribbon with white slippers. The place she resided was the most peaceful place in all of Wutai.
Ping was a high-ranking student in the Wutai Pagoda, where Yuffie Kisarigi sat atop the food chain now, allowing her hair to grow and body to mature. She was still small, and very feisty, acting half her age now. She spared now and then to keep her skills a little more than dull, just to tell herself that they were still there.
The town of Wutai was a very small, quiet place which had a continent by itself. The famous Pagoda was now home to a place simply called 'The Garden'. No fancy nicknames, no additions to the simple title, just two words. The garden wasn't built at all. It came as a result of an event at the Northern Crater that affected the whole planet. When Wutai was rebuilt, The Garden was there. No one said anything, going about business as usual. For some reason, certain dwellers felt compelled to travel there. Others dismissed it, thinking if they didn't know how it came to be, there was no reason to go at all.
The Garden never had a fight, a duel as it were. Just like life has unwritten rules, the Garden had them as well. Don't destroy the plants, don't desecrate anything, and most of all don't fight. No one had to be told these things, because of the setting.
The edges bore white lilies, while had an extra sparkle to them when the mist of the waterfall rested on them. Within the lilac border was grass. Simple, green grass. It was manicured every now and then. Within the four walls of flowers and grass lay a patio of stone tiles, stretching out into stairs that had a second level overlooking the whole garden.
Of course, this is where Ping sat, exiting her quiet state, allowing the songs of birds to fill the air, grasping every note as if a song was to be heard.
Before traveling, Ping spent as much time as possible, breathing in every particle of peace and calm before leaving. When she left, she'd be the bodyguard for Yuffie. While the still young woman, only 30 years old, could handle herself, a little assistance wouldn't hurt. Bill Crossman, a very strong monk would oversee the Pagoda, so there were no worries in that regard.
Ping searched one last time like she did every time before trekking, trying to find something remotely wrong, something that disturbed her, broke the thin line of conscious, everyday thought.
Silence.
Silence.
Silence.
Ping let out a breath that assured her she was breathing and nothing was wrong. The sky was a vibrant blue, with clouds trying to form shapes so people looking could break the awkward silence between them. The blade was sheathed and Ping's footsteps hushed themselves in reverence of The Garden as she prepared to be absent from the sanctuary for a week.