One step. Two steps, three.

The girl with the raven hair pushed aside her tumultuous thoughts, instead focusing on the number of steps she took on the craggy rocks.

She took slow, deliberate steps, bracing herself against the howling wind. Gusts of ocean air filled her nose with the smell of salt and storm clouds, lashing her thin shawl and billowing white dress around her slight frame mercilessly. Her teeth chattered, and she was beginning to wish she had dressed more warmly.

As she reached the crest of the cliffs, lightning arced across the sky. Right now, her eyes were the same color as the churning waves below. Looking at them from so high up made her dizzy, so she instead focused on the last remaining traces of sunlight being smothered by the stormy overcast. She needed to do this quickly, as she had no intention of doubling back down the cliffs in the dark.

BOOM.

A clap of thunder echoed against the rock face. The raven-haired girl steeled herself—it has to be tonight.

Nearing the cliffs edge, the girl’s hand went to the sakura clip in her hair. The tiny, delicate cluster of metal cherry blossoms were a gift from her fiancé before he went off to sea. But when she traced the intricate design with her forefinger, as she often did when thinking fondly of him, now all she felt was a hollow loneliness deep in the pit of her stomach.

After all, he was gone.

Resolute, the girl clutched the clip in her fist, knuckles white, arms trembling as she held it over the water. A drop of rain landed on her nose.

She needed to let him go.

Bitter tears sprang to the girl’s eyes. The wind mingled them with mist. Lightning illuminated the angry ocean, ready to swallow up her token of love. She took a deep breath and leaned forward, gradually opening her hand.

BOOM!

Taken aback by the sudden sound, the girl lost her footing, her ankle twisting painfully. She pitched forward, her scream smothered by the wind. She squeezed her eyes shut. Was this the end for her? Would she be joining her beloved at the bottom of the sea?

But she did not fall.

Instead, she opened her eyes.

To her amazement, the girl with the raven hair was dangling on the cliffside, the branch of a tree, as if it were suddenly made of rope, was coiling itself around her left wrist. The branch held firm, even under her weight, and she wasn’t sure if it was hallucinating from her near-death experience or if her eyes were fooled by the rain, but the girl swore that the branch tethering her to this world was sprouting cherry blossoms.

For a moment, the girl was mesmerized, but soon fear took over and she frantically began trying to haul herself back up onto the cliff’s edge, now slick with rain. She struggled until her muscles burned, trying to find footholds, to pull herself up using the branch. But as the pounding storm intensified, the spark of hope afforded her by this miracle tree grew bleaker.

She went limp for a bit, panting, her black hair plastered on her forehead. Both her heart and her head pounded. Maybe, at this point, it would be better to just die.

Don’t give up.

The voice wasn’t something she heard, but something she felt.

Don’t give up!

She searched for its source in the sky, on the waves. She found nothing.

You must live.

Its peculiar warmth crept from her chest to her chilled fingertips, gradually filling her with new motivation. Harnessing a strength she never knew she possessed, the girl clawed her way up the cliffside and flopped onto solid ground, her chest heaving. She immediately rose up, wanting to catch sight of her savior.

And there it was, a glorious sakura tree, impossibly growing straight out of the rocks. How could she have missed it before? The massive tree was in full bloom, branches bowing under the weight of their countless tiny blossoms. The rain had stopped, and the pink flowers held an ethereal glow.

The girl simply stared, speechless. She glanced down at her wrist, only to discover that it was no longer wrapped in the branch, and that there were no marks or scratches as there should have been. Taking a step closer, the girl reached out a hand to touch one of the low-hanging blossoms.

“You saved my life,” she murmured to herself, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

No, your will was strong.

The girl jolted. “Can you… really, um, talk, Mr. Tree?”

The blossoms rustled, in what could be interpreted as a chuckle. I am not a tree, and I suppose I can talk, though I haven’t had the pleasure of doing so in quite some time.

“Who… are you?”

For a moment, there was no answer, only the sound of the wind. Then, suddenly—

I am a bit shy.

The girl put her hand over to stifle a laugh—how surreal! “A-alright then, if you want, I’ll close my eyes, and whenever you’re ready to be seen, just tell me. Is that fair?

You want to see me?

“I do,” the girl nodded. “I want to thank you properly.”

I… I see. Close your eyes, please.

The girl did as she was told, turning her back for good measure. “Let me know when.”

And so the girl waited. She massaged her ankle, watched the clouds slowly part and make way for moonlight, but the tree—or whoever this being was—still did not speak. Every so often, she would ask if now was a good time, but every time, the tree would refuse her, embarrassed. Eventually, her exhaustion got the better of her, and she gently laid against the tree’s trunk, eyes closed. It wasn’t long until seep overcame her.

When she woke up the next morning at dawn, she wondered if it was all a dream—the cliff, the storm, the sakura tree. But there she was, fallen petals dotting her hair, drool on her cheek.

She quickly wiped it away, rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and chirped, “Good morning. May I see who you are now?”

To her surprise, the response was immediate. Yes, you may. I’m up here.

Suddenly bursting with anticipation, the girl dusted herself off and craned her neck toward the higher branches. What she saw took her breath away.

It took her eyes a minute to parce him out among the curtain of blossoms, but she knew he couldn’t be an illusion. Perched like a sparrow, stock still, was the form of a young man. He stood in a crouch, eyes closed, his elbows resting on his knees, hands hidden by the sleeves of an overly long striped sweater. His long eyelashes cast shadows on his pale cheeks, and his complexion, like the tree itself, glowed faintly. His hair was the same pink as the flowers, and he immediately reminded her of strawberry mochi—utterly squishy and cute. His clothing didn’t look too incredibly old-fashioned, either; she was expecting a centuries-old spirit from a fable, but the boy before her could be easily mistaken for a normal human.

“What is your name?” The girl asked, in awe of the being before her.

Upon hearing her voice, the boy tentatively opened his eyes. They were docile brown, staring down at her with a mix of curiosity and nerves.

I am Jimin, he answered. I am the spirit of this cherry tree. What is your name?

“Hana,” she replied, bowing low to show her utmost respect. “Thank you for saving my life, Jimin.”

Even though he was a spirit, Hana have sworn she caught a flush of rosy pink in Jimin’s cheeks at her gesture. C-certainly, he responded. This is why I exist.

~~

Hana had to hurry home to worried parents soon after meeting Jimin, but the next day, she returned to the cliff, carrying a picnic basket and a checkered blanket. That day, the sun shone brightly, Hana wore a wide-brimmed sun hat over her raven hair. The sea breeze was pleasantly cool on her face as she made the trek to the tree.

“Jimin!” She called, “Hello!”

Hana? Jimin’s voice still was still more of a feeling than a sound, but Hana could tell that he was confused. Why are you here?

“For a nice picnic lunch.” Hana grinned up at the cherry tree. “The weather’s perfect today.”

You want to have a picnic on a cliffside? Jimin was astonished.

“If it means I can visit with you,” she replied, letting her blanket flutter in the wind and settle softly on the rocks, in the shade of the tree. She neatly spread out her lunch and took a big bite of her onigiri. “Mmm, pretty good,” she mumbled through her food.

As she ate, she leaned against the tree’s trunk. She listened to the sound of the waves crashing against the cliffs, the faint sound of seagulls, and the ever-present rustling of the branches. She knew Jimin was a timid spirit, so she didn’t ask him any questions. Instead, she chattered merrily about her day thus far, her parents considering a vacation to Europe, her brother sharing news of his success at university, her best friend Chihaya announcing the birth of a baby girl. And eventually it came back to him, always back to him.

“Hiroki’s mother is planning a beautiful service under the cherry blossoms,” she found herself murmuring. “It’s kaika* already. We have to act quickly or they’ll be gone. Funny how nature works that way.” A lone tear trailed down her face. “And cruel.”

Hana composed herself, gathering up her things and folding the checkered blanket. “Thank you for listening, Jimin.”

As she was about to go, a powerful gust of took ahold of her hat, sending it careening up toward the highest branches of the tree, and Hana blinked in wonder as Jimin’s human form appeared frantically in a scattering of petals, grabbing at the hat in a veritable panic. His hand passed right through it, but the tree’s branches responded, snagging the it and dropping it gently at her feet. Jimin sighed with relief, and Hana burst into a fit of giggles, clutching the hat to her stomach, eyes watering.

What is it? What’s so funny? Jimin demanded.

“Your…face…” Hana managed. “You were in such a frenzy over my stupid hat. That’s amazing.”

Jimin’s eyes widened, and Hana could swear that, at least for a second, the cherry blossoms turned a rosy red. That’s not funny.

“I disagree,” Hana laughed. As much as she tried to, she couldn’t contain her laughter. Jimin, who had at first been sulking in embarrassment, eventually revealed a warm smile. This girl was certainly fun to watch.

Hana coughed, finally succeeding in calming down. She pulled the hat snugly onto her head and picked up her basket. “Now I owe you two life debts, one for me, one for my hat. Is there anything I can do for you?”

Jimin thought for a moment, and Hana noted he was cute with his brow furrowed in concentration. I never get visitors, He told her, So I wasn’t sure what to do when you came today.

“Never?” Hana frowned.

The cherry tree’s branches drooped a bit. Never those coming to see me, specifically. There are those who wish to photograph the sunset from the cliffside, and those who wish that their lives might come to a watery end.

“Wait, so when I first came here, did you think that I… Did you think that I meant to—?”

Jimin gave her a sad smile. We spirits are sensitive to the emotions of humans, and I am especially empathetic. I knew you were wavering, but you ultimately made the choice to live.

“I see.” Hana’s voice was barely audible. She met Jimin’s gaze. “If you’re alone all the time, don’t you get lonely?”

I can’t say I don’t. The tree’s leaves rustled wistfully. But this form was my choice, just as your life is yours.

“Then, I will visit again,” Hana declared. “Is that okay?”

Jimin gave her a blinding smile before his human form faded into a gust of flower petals. I would like that very much.

 

*the first opening of the cherry blossoms, followed shortly by mankai, ‘full bloom’.