The Kiss of the Cherry Blossom Petals

3 months, 6 days and 12 hours.

That's how long it's been since I heard her voice beckoning me to hold her, when the world felt dark. To hold her, when she was tired. To hold her, because she would miss her mother. To hold her, because she just wanted me close.

“Shoto,” she would whisper in my ear, “do you know what time it is?” would be how she summoned me when the house was quiet enough for us to be alone together like that.

I sit by her, with nothing but the sound of the ventilator hanging onto her every breath. I used to watch her sleep like this, to keep her safe. Now, I pray for her to wake up. For the first time in my life, I looked to a God I didn't ever believe in, hoping that she would finally open her eyes and see me.

The fear creeps over, with the possibility of knowing that even when she wakes up, she might not even remember me; as if those moments we had together, would disappear into the depths of my heart, and mine only.

I grasp onto her hand tightly, holding back my tears. If she woke up to see me crying, that is the last thing I would want. I would want her to see me smile, welcoming her back.

“Sakura,” I would say, “you look like a mess.” She would laugh, knowing that to me, that would be farther than the truth.

I don't want her to know that the nights have felt colder since her absence. I don't want her to know that, no matter how crowded the streets of Kyoto were, the emptiness inside me seemed louder. I don't want her to know that I lie awake at night, replaying the moments on how I could have saved her.

I have built my life around protecting her. Her grandfather entrusted me to do so. After he found me brutally beaten in an alleyway as a child, he welcomed me into their family without a question. I was assigned to be her Caretaker, and was nothing but confused at this request. We were both similar in age, and in a clan with more qualified men to protect her. Feeling my utmost respect and gratitude for my new Boss, I embraced that Yakuza life, knowing that it would keep me sane compared to the loneliness I felt. No orphanage had wanted me at the time, because of the trouble I caused through violence. I did not know what compelled me to be so angry, but I was tired of feeling like I didn’t belong anywhere.

But what followed for years were grueling hours of training, bitter trials and situations where I found myself covered in the blood of other men. When I wanted to quit, those moments had only been salvaged by seeing her smile.

The nights I would come home late after a raid, she would wait to see me and tend to my wounds even if she wasn't supposed to. She would hold my hand, and stay silent with me as I would absorb the darkness of the underworld, hating myself for the violence that consumed me. I would hold her close, and wish away the world; but running away together would have never been an option. Being part of this clan is and always will be my duty to protect her. Even if it means seeing her marry someone else.

“Excuse me sir, but visiting hours are now closed,” I hear the nurse come in, speaking in a very quiet voice. Perhaps my arms covered in tattoos is a dead giveaway that I could potentially be dangerous. I look at the clock and realize I have been sitting by her side for the last 6 hours, without moving from my seat. Time stood still the farther she seemed away from me.

I politely nod at the nurse, as to acknowledge her, but stay a moment longer until she leaves the room. I stand up from my seat, and kiss the top of Sakura’s head, not caring anymore if anyone would see us. This moment is mine alone.

I hop into my car, giving one last look at her floor from the parking lot. The light finally turns off, which means it’s my cue to go. As I drive through the city on my way home, I see the bustling streetlights and people locked arm in arm, laughing, being drunk fools or in the comfort of their family. I feel nothing but disgust, wondering how people can go on with their lives knowing that the world can be a dark place.

As I finally reach the house, I find a few of the Yakuza brothers smoking outside, laughing amongst themselves.

“Oi Shoto, where were you tonight? Don’t tell me you were at another club,” tease one of them.

I smirk, “What’s it to you? I’m a free man after all.”

The men cheered, patting me on the back. I let out a fake laugh. It’s better they think of me like this; a ruthless playboy without a single shred of fear of tomorrow’s problems. It’s better they don’t know that my whole world feels like it’s crashing down without Sakura.

I walk towards the back of the house and into the garden. I see that the cherry blossom trees are finally taking shape, towering beautifully over the tiny pond that stretches across the neatly kept grass. I close my eyes and take in the evening air, as I take a seat on the back porch. For a moment I picture her standing before me, leaning over and flicking my forehead to stop looking so sad. I smile at this and feel a gut-wrenching feeling in my stomach that I don’t know what it will take for her to wake up again.

Suddenly, as if on cue, one of the brothers begin to yell my name. “Shoto! Where are you?”

I turn my back to see tears filling his eyes, “Sakura is awake. The hospital just called.”

And suddenly, my own eyes are clouded with the tears of relief that I had held in for so long. A gust of wind hit as I stand up, determined to rush to my car without hesitation. The cherry blossom petals fly my way, as if to say: It’s time to welcome a new beginning, Sakura is coming home.