Everyone is different. Different thoughts, morals, actions, looks and lineage, but there was one single thing that united a plethora of people. The love the Japanese people had for their cherry blossoms.
Kiku was, without a doubt, loved the cherry blossom (or in other words), the saukra more than anyone else. The sakura symbolized the fragility and short existence of life. It also meant purity and a time of renewal. However, nothing could mean more to the Japanese man than Sakurai (Y/n).
Sakurai (Y/n). Oh how he adored that name. It seemed to roll off his tongue whenever he said it. He had been (Y/n)'s friend since they were in pampers. Their fathers had been old friends way back during their school days.
They were both the only children of their respective families. He was shy and loved his personal space while she, seemed to mirror him but yet was so, so different than he. She was reserved but knew when to let her voice ring, she knew when he needed a hug even though he did not.
He fell for her when he was barely six during the Hanami festival. He remembered the day clearly. It was evening and both the Honda family and Sakurai family had decided to go together to a local park to celebrate. They laughed and ate together (while the adults got to drink sake) under the cherry blossom trees. He was watching some of the petite, beautiful blossoms rain down when some got caught in (Y/n)'s hair.
They seemed to land intricately in her hair. As if some ordained god was watching and wove the petals perfectly into her hair to form an almost-crown of sakura blossoms in her soft, shiny (h/c) hair. She laughs as the wind catches her hair and makes it billow softly. The sun sets behind her, giving her an angelic glow upon her skin. In his mind, even at his young age, she is a goddess.
The goddess of the cherry blossoms.
His sakura.
Over the years, they continued to grow closer. As she grew prettier, he grew more infatuated. Everything he did, was for her in his mind. Kiku remembered that one day while she learned to brew tea, said that she liked boys who were smart. So Kiku did what he could do to become that; He read day and night and constantly went through Hell to get good grades that went beyond the norm.
Anything she looked for in a man, he molded himself to be. The only thing about Kiku that could not possibly change was his shyness, love for his own personal space, his patriotism for Japan and of course, he's adoration for his sakura.
By the time they grew older, Kiku was enrolled in military school, much to (Y/n)'s dismay. With the second World War going on, there was no doubt that soon after Kiku would join the Imperial Navy. Kiku hated that he had to leave her for such a long period of time just to learn about how to control a ship.
One day however, Kiku had gotten the day off and hurried off home as quickly as he could. When he approached the house of his dearly beloved, he saw a most horrendous sight. A young man sat next to his sakura, and by the way she was blushing and shyly looking away; he was trying to seduce her from him.
Kiku was seething with anger as he watched. He saw red as the man slipped his hand over her own delicate one. He wanted to shout in fury, knock the man's teeth in, but most importantly;
He wanted him dead.
So he waited, and waited, and waited. He waited until the sun started its descent when the young man decided to leave his sakura's company. He walked behind him silently and far away so that he would not be noticed. He stalked the young man till he he was alone and there were no people in sight in the rural area.
