When Sakura Blossoms Fall

Chapter 9: Her Crimson Scar

"Idiot, idiot, idiot, idiot!" Kenji muttered repeatedly to himself as he darted through a series of shadowed Chinese streets. "Why am I such an idiot!"

As his eyes searched frantically for a certain missing figure, his mind couldn't help but revisit that hideous conversation he had experienced earlier in the afternoon. Ai had been horrified, more distraught than he had seen anyone since the time of his parents' deaths.

"What do you mean, 'it's Soichiro?' What happened?"

"Itagaki . . . Itagaki sent him into battle even though he didn't have sufficient training yet—"

"He WHAT? Why would he do something like that when he knew—"

Ai had cut his rant short with one quiet word. "Kenji."

"What is it?"

"You're not listening. Itagaki sent him to fight, and he . . . well . . ."

"He what?"

Her gray eyes had sparkled with unshed tears. "He didn't make it."

Kenji's jaw parted slightly, his boiling blood suddenly felt icy cold. "You, you mean . . ."

"Yes, Kenji. Soichiro is dead."

Kenji refused to let his own emotions take control. He knew that what she had spoken was truth, somehow. He would never see his best friend again, at least not alive. But he would not express sorrow, he would not grieve, and he would not cry. Because as Ai had uttered those dreaded words, his own loss hadn't been the first thing to enter his mind. Instead he was instantly haunted with something he had said just minutes before hearing the news.

"You've never lost anything or anyone important to you!"

"I'm such an idiot!"

Why had he gotten so angry with her? He should have controlled his temper, he shouldn't have said those monstrous things. She was absolutely furious after being so harshly insulted, and now someone had to tell her that her brother was dead . . .

"That's not all, Kenji."

He had almost been afraid to ask what else she had to say, but Ai hadn't waited for him to.

"Chizuru is missing."

"I know . . . I mean, you see, she—"

"I know what she did, Kenji. I caught her taking one of your uniforms just before she left."

"And you let her go?"

"I couldn't have stopped her. But she promised that she would come back as soon as the battle was over, and well, it's been over for awhile now."

"You don't think—"

"I don't know, Kenji. Who knows, there's always the chance that she may have found her brother before anyone else did—"

That thought was appalling to Kenji. She would be unpredictable under those circumstances. That was why he emotionlessly ignored the implications of Soichiro's death. Finding Chizuru and making sure she was safe was most important right now. It was true that she could have found her brother's corpse and run away as a result of the emotional trauma, but he couldn't be sure. She could have been in the battle too, she could have been taken hostage, or killed like him . . .

A heavy wave of guilt poured over him for about the thousandth time, and he found himself regretting once again absolutely everything he had ever said to her about being naïve and ignorant to the reality of the world. He could only imagine the pain she was going through right now, if she was still even alive. He had been so ineffably stupid.

His legs seemed to fill with lead as he trudged on. His surroundings blurred as his feet carried him from location to location. His morale dropped by a degree each time a place proved to be devoid of Chizuru. How far could she have made it? He had been scouring the city for hours.

But this territory was unfamiliar. The city was huge, and before long darkness had completely descended upon it. It was beginning to rain, and Kenji was completely lost.

"Young man!"

He turned toward the voice desperately.

"Yes?"

"You're a member of the Japanese army, right?" an elderly man asked in muddled Japanese, his head peeking through a lighted window.

"Hai."

"Were there any . . . uh, young women in your regiment?"

A flicker of hope erupted in his chest. "Sort of, have you seen a female soldier recently?"

"Yes, my wife and I saw her wandering through here after the battle. She looked pretty rough, so we invited her in. She's sleeping now."

Kenji had burst into the small home before the man could invite him in.

"Where is she?" he demanded impatiently, ignoring the old man's enigmatic smile.

"Right through there."

Kenji's being simultaneously overflowed with relief and worry as he laid eyes on the quietly sleeping girl. He felt as if someone was ripping his heart right out of his chest and stomping on it with a steel boot as he watched her. Her pain was so obvious that one could almost feel it permeating the warm air in the room. Her face was contorted with anguish, her forehead dotted with small beads of cool sweat. She was lying on her side and curled in the fetal position, wrapped in one of his uniforms, and seemed to represent the epitome of misery. Then he saw the blood.

Her hands, now tightly wrapped around her upper arms, were covered in the dry crimson residue. Her pants, too, which had previously been crisply clean, were red up to her knees where she had kneeled next to her brother's body. She shifted slightly in her sleep, and his sharp eyes noticed that the side of her face against the pillow held a hand-shaped stain. He felt ill as the image arose in his mind of her kneeling next to Soichiro's body and holding his bloody hand to her face, only to realize that he was already dead.

A chapter in her life had closed. Things would be infinitely different from now on, both of them knew it. But Kenji still couldn't help feeling that sharp pang of regret for being so biting in his criticism of her. It had seemed like the right thing to do then, after all, he had had good intentions. But now . . .

He pushed his regrets aside and knelt down next to her, gently lifting her while trying not wake her and cradling her limp body in one arm. With the other he reached for a bucket of water and a cloth conveniently placed nearby, and began to carefully wipe away the blood on her cheek. Red-stained drops of water dripped steadily to the floor, some onto Kenji's lap, but he ignored them. He made quick work of restoring her marred face to its familiar beauty, half-doubting the entire time if this was all really happening. When he had finished he placed the now red cloth on the rim of the bucket and tenderly dried her face with his sleeve. She began to stir.

Kenji quickly laid her back down before she completely regained consciousness and turned back to the bucket to wring out the cloth. Her eyes fluttered open.

"Soichiro?"

He swallowed hard. "No, Chizuru."

Her eyes widened as they adjusted to the soft light. "Kenji? Is that you?"

He turned back around to fully face her and nodded, his face passive. "Let me see your hand."

She raised one thin eyebrow in confusion. "Kenji, why would you need to see my hand? And where are—" She stopped as she glanced at the appendage, and a deluge of memories her dreary mind had temporarily pushed aside flooded back in. Her eyes jumped to her other hand, then to her bloody pants.

"Soichi . . ." she whispered in unfathomable horror.

Kenji had to look away as her eyes glassed over. She didn't deserve this. She didn't deserve this much pain.

"I'll wait for you outside," he mumbled, standing. "When you're ready I'll take you back to camp. The regiment is worried about you." He turned to leave, but felt a slight resistance to his movement.

Upon turning back around, he saw that the hem of one pant leg was held fast between Chizuru's feeble fingers. She was staring helplessly up at him, her eyes swimming with unshed tears.

"Kenji, please don't leave right now," she beseeched, her voice trembling, "please."

He buckled. How could he deny her after that? Soichiro surely would have been a more appropriate source of comfort for her, but Soichiro wasn't here. And he couldn't just leave her like this.

He knelt back down and placed his hands on her shoulders. "What is it?" he asked, his voice holding a degree of concern even he wasn't used to hearing from it.

She wiped quickly at her eyes. "Kenji, it's all m-my fault. I could have helped him, I could have—"

"I doubt there was anything you could have done, Chizuru," he interrupted. "You are not at fault."

"You must think I'm so weak and pathetic," she continued, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks, "you must hate me for this."

"Don't speak of yourself in that way. You have to be strong, Chizuru. You can get through this."

She looked up at him abruptly, shocked that even in his slight criticism he was being gentle. Her composure crumpled, and she leaned forward before Kenji could even react, burying her head in his chest and gripping his jacket tightly.

He almost protested, almost grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed her back, asking what on earth she thought she was doing, but for some reason couldn't. He almost took the fact that she was seeking him for comfort as a compliment. She was supposed to be angry with him.

Almost of their own accord, his arms reached out and wrapped themselves around the distressed girl, drawing her closer as she lost control to hysterical sobs.

It didn't take long for Kenji to realize that she was doing more than just crying, and he leaned his head forward, straining his ears to catch what she was saying.

"Oh Kenji," she choked out, "you were right. I-I knew nothing about true suffering and pain, absolutely nothing. This . . . this is awful." She paused to wipe away some tears, but her efforts proved useless as another waved followed right behind that one. "And compared to you . . . and the war . . . I probably still don't understand anything." She tightened visibly, cowering like an abandoned child. "I'm such a fool."

Kenji listened quietly to her self-degrading words, abstaining from criticizing her for it as he usually would have. Right now she just needed to cry.

After what seemed like an eternity to both of them, Chizuru's sobs finally subsided, gradually decreasing to occasional whimpers, and then nothing at all. Kenji opened his mouth and murmured softly but sincerely, "I'm sorry, Chizuru. If there's anything I can do to help, please tell me."

She shook her head against his chest. "No, I'm sorry," she whispered. Kenji felt his own eyes start to sting with tears at her words. He had no idea what she would be sorry for, but it didn't really matter. He bowed his head slightly so that his mouth hovered just above her ear.

"Don't be."

He sighed peacefully and actually smiled as she remained silent. She had cried, and in front of him at that, and as long as she wasn't bottling up her feelings inside she would heal.

He felt oddly empty as she pulled back, smiling up at him despite her red eyes.

"I'm going to make things right, Kenji, I promise." He merely smiled and gave her a nod, then stood and pulled her to her feet.

Things were going to be all right.

Wow, I think that was my fastest update ever. What can I say? I was excited about this one. I know this chapter was kind of short, but if all goes as planned, the next one will be long enough to make up for it. I'm glad people are reading this, but I'm not updating again until I get more reviews! As always, though, I'd like to thank those that have reviewed. You guys are great. Next Chapter: Betrayal. Until next time! —Suzu