雨滴: Cherry Blossom Child


Something different, written from the perspective of Masaru Hayato on his daughter. Set during the Tsunami anniversary when both his daughters are home. This song is the inspiration.

It had been five months since his youngest daughter was under the same roof as he was and usually it was because of family gatherings or matters of business. Never did his Amellade come back to Japan to pay a visit and to give him a simple hello or to catch up on what was happening. True she had her own life now though he still disagreed on how she treated herself in the presence of the man she merely mentioned as her ‘Patron’ but the choice was up to her. Little Ame was no longer and had prospered into a beautiful young woman.

Sitting in the privacy of his own tea room, Masaru cradled the porcelain tea cup in his hands, his eyes closing slowly as he heard a small voice squeak towards him “Tou-chan, Tou-chan! Did you see? I won!” A memory and a fond one as he opened his eye and before him a misty image of six year old Amellade Hayato ran towards him frantically waving her katana around in the air. Wearing the kendo hakama of red and white, her raven shoulder length bounced around her.

Masaru chuckled and nodded “I did see Ame-chan! Omedatou!” He congratulated his daughter, his hands reaching out to embrace. Normally open affection between family members was rare and saved for at home but the Hayato clan leader felt a sense of pride that day many years ago. His daughter had won her first tournament and gave honour to their clan. Who knew that her simple skills in katana wielding would transform her into a lethal killer.

Amellade had continue to win many tournaments but it wasn’t until she was thirteen years old did she make her first effective kill. Masaru wanted to show her the true nature when crossing a Yakuza and one night a man was brought to his knees in front of the assembled members. Standing behind Amellade who held onto her pink Hello kitty katana slightly raised Masaru murmured into her ear.

“This man is a traitor to the Hayato clan, he tried to steal our secrets and give them away to our sworn enemies”

Amellade had a calm and somewhat cold facial expression as she stared straight into the eyes of the quivering man who had a look of panic and pleading to be let loose. “What is the penalty Otou-san” Her voice was soft though it dripped with an edge, a need to use her katana in hand. Masaru patted her head before stepping away but not before mentioning “Death.”

He had watched his daughter raise her katana high as the man’s head was pulled forward exposing his neck. She did not taunt, she did not say how much pain he was going to be in. She merely swung her katana down, the metal slicing through the air and hitting flesh quickly. The sharpness of the katana made a quick cut of the man’s head whose cry was cut off immediately. The blood spurted up and tainted Amellade’s white yukata but her face remained stoic.

As she got older, Masaru had seen the change, his daughter was becoming much like her older sister Meiakane. A thrill in the chase, hunting, pursuing and killing. She was able to take down a group on her own and left the carnage skipping and whistling a song that Masaru did not know. Amellade had become deadly as her beauty blossomed and she had used that to her advantage. Masaru did not question his daughter’s tactics on how to kill but the reputation was spreading across Tokyo’s underworld and it made him proud.

Yet, he missed his daughter’s company when she left the country and went to pursue her own future overseas. He had recieved letters because that was the only way he preferred to have contact with his daughters and Amellade kept in touch until she suddenly went quiet. Her last letter was quick and frantic but he had remembered one name that spilled across the paper in katakana. An English name: Jacen

The pot of green tea had been finished but Masaru still cradled the tea cup in his hands. Yesterday was a good day to see both his daughters again but they did not linger for long. Meiakane had to return to her own clan and Amellade’s smile grew wispy as she mentioned she had to return to Him. The man Masaru had no doubt was the name written on the letter, two years ago.

Standing up from his table, Masaru walked over to the window where his tea room faced the inner garden. In the centre of the garden by the pond where many karp swam, the cherry blossom tree was in view. Smiling to himself Masaru knew- the Cherry blossom was in full bloom.

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