Footprints
Vast lands outstretched for miles with nothing in sight. During the winters, the snow fades into the sky and it’s like living within a dandelion. The only color that gives this atmosphere life, is the lone Sakura, that resides in the middle of these lands, far from society. Some who are lucky to see it from the road or pass by it during a blue moon, call it the ‘Blush of Winter’.
However, the Sakura tree does not stand alone, for at the bottom of its trunk, sits the god that resides in it.
He sits and stares out into the distance to wait, as a habit. He no longer notices when the sun rises or sets- it’s all the same. Winter is the only season he comes out of the tree because it’s when he met her.
Yuuki.
He’s forgotten his own name, but hers remains burned into his being. If only she could have lasted longer.
“Humans are such fragile creatures,” he mumbles.
A gust of wind hazes his vision. With one sweep of his sleeve, the snow settles onto its blanketed landscape. He frowns and huffs as he dusts off snow from his face, there isn’t supposed to be a storm today.
Then, in the distance, he sees a silhouette coming towards him. A gleam of hope flashes by his russet eyes. It gets closer and his expectant expression contorts into irritation.
No, that’s impossible.
A phantom hand reaches out to his cheek to turn him. He widens his eyes as he stares at the youthful face of his lost beloved.
“Yuuki?”
She smiles tenderly and the dimples he loved so much appear. Yuuki presses her forehead against the god’s. The warmth he craved for centuries returned in that small touch of affection. He felt the snow where her skin touched. The hollowness inside him fills with butterflies as laughter rises in his chest.
“You made me wait too long this time,” he teases.
A tear falls down his cheek, one for happiness and one for relief. As she wipes it away with her thumb, the god leans into her touch, basking in its comfort.
He reaches out his own hand to feel the supple skin he’d shower with kisses. But as soon as his fingertips touch her cheeks, she vanishes with the wind. His hands freeze midair, the heat from her touch has been sucked out of his body, and the hollowness returns. The wind howls, snow piles up, and a single pink petal falls on his knee.
“Ah, how could I not notice?” he thinks out loud. “She didn’t leave footprints on the snow.”
