In Bloom

Winter

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.