Ordinary - (Dabi x OC)

You & Me.

Violet POV: - a few weeks later -

Cherry blossom season had returned, and the pretty pink petals showered over the streets of Japan.

Life, death, renewal-all things that cherry blossoms signify, and never have I felt it more true than on this day. I remained sitting in the green grass, smiling softly as the pretty pink petals kissed the ivory of my dress and veil, looking to the tombstone of my mother.

The blossoms were also atop her grave, as well as flowers and trinkets from die hard, anonymous fans from her hero days. I was thankful to whoever these people were, still coming to sit with my mother and talk with her when I couldn't, making sure she was in good company.

But, this morning was quiet and I was thankful for it. I was the only one in the graveyard, the sounds of busy life had slowed down to nothing, except for the morning hoot of the owls, and the breeze rustling through the trees. It was the start of a new day, and for me, so much more than that.

'The first step is the hardest.'

That's where we began the story, so it's only fitting that we end here, too. And, for as long as I can remember, my mother was right. The first step was always the hardest when it came to everything, my timid feet always felt so incredibly weighted with dread, cowardice, and a lack of courage to truly live my life.

But, for the first time today, my legs are light, the shackles around my ankles have been lifted, and the future is bright.

Today, the first step is actually the easiest. It's the last step out of my old life that's hard.

I've spent decades mourning my mother, grieving her and never moving forward. Whether it was hoping for her return, or being angry with her for leaving me behind-or even just pushing her aside and ignoring the pain, the grief was like a disease, a tumor stuck to my heart and slowly draining the life out of me.

But, as I hold her unopened letter in my hand, the letter that was found among her belongings all those year ago-the one I always refused to open, I realize that now...

It's time.

Why did I never open this letter that my mother wrote me? Well, it's a good question, one I haven't been able to answer myself. But, as I sit here in the grass, running my fingers along the creases that ages of time imprinted into the envelope, I realize why.

This letter is the only thing I have left of my mother. Leaving it unopened keeps a certain sense of her preservation-a denial, even if I know the truth of her demise. Opening it means I'll have nothing new to experience from her anymore. It means I've accepted that she's gone. That she's a memory and never coming back.

That's a hard pill to swallow. It's why I've waited so long...

But, I want to enter this new stage of my life with renewal, just like the cherry blossoms. I want to start fresh, with nothing holding me back. Not even my own grief. It's time to say goodbye to the very last piece of my past. It's time to leave the grief behind and focus on the future.

The future. The blissful future that is anything but ordinary.

And so, grazing my fingers along the paper one more time, I carefully tore open the side of the dated envelope, letting all the reminiscence and preservation of the past whisk into freedom, catching on the wind and swirling up to the heavens with the cherry blossoms.