Shirayukihime

                                                                                               Prologue                                                                          

“For two-thousand six-hundred years, our Empire has never known a defeat. The key to success is our faith in victory.”

-Tojo Hideki, 1941.

Iwaizumi, Iwate, Empire of Japan

The snowstorm only got worse, the wind chilling straight to the bone. The flurry of white was blinding, the cold biting into flesh. The forest was buried in the snow, the bare skeletons of the trees stripped of their leaves were blanketed in sheets of pure white. Sometimes a branch would snap, ripping of the towering trunks and crashing onto the snow-covered ground with a muted thud. The sky was a grey canvas, low dark clouds hanging precariously above the land. Not a single sound of life could be heard: no cries of the animals, no chirping of the birds. The howling of the wind concealed everything.

The girl stopped by a tall tree to catch her breath. Her left palm on the rough, icy bark, she exhaled in shallow breaths. Her right hand clutched the collar of her pink coat. Mists of white wafted out near her face with each and every breath she took. She looked around her through the snow-covered woods, and felt the relief in her chest when she saw no one in the distance.

The curtain of snow had lessened in intensity, and the snowflakes were just falling lightly now, drifting in the light wind. The girl rubbed her hands together, and paused to take a look at her surroundings, before setting off again, treading slowly in the snow. The wind had died down, and had made way for an elegant silence.

Faint rays of the winter sun finally pierced through the clouds, shining and scattering through the branches and icicles above. It was beautiful, the girl thought. He was right, the forests around the mountains of Iwaizumi were spectacular, it was just her who had not noticed it. A faint smile curled up her lips, echoing the faint crunch of snow underneath her boots.

It was then when she straightened herself and tried as firmly as she could to tell herself that she needed to get to the station. But where would she go? Her faint heart could not help but worry, cowering in fear of the afternoon. Many a times had she walked through these very same woods, through the winding paths cutting through the maples and oaks, past the jagged rocks, but she had never felt so fearful and anxious.

She checked her coat pocket, searching for any money she could use to buy a train ticket. Rummaging around, she found a something hard and flat. Wondering what it was, she fished it out into her palm and took a good look at it.

It was the ticket that he had bought for her in their hurry to leave Tokyo for Osaka. She recalled that trip as they were in the train, the towering snow-capped peak of Fujiyama and the glimmer of the blue sea. She remembered his peaceful face as he slept on the seat beside her, his head nodding up and down as the bullet train sped past the peach orchards of Shizuoka. She knew fully well that the ticket was for the Tokaido Main Line, but what choice did she have? Perhaps she could exchange it with a kind soul at the station for a ticket to Tokyo. The train from Otoda Station near the coast would take too long, so she had to get to Morioka in the west. But it would take forever on foot, so she had to hitch a ride on the highway, if anyone was kind enough to lift her all the way to Morioka.

Morioka. The last time she went there was the time when she begged him to take her out of the town. She wanted to see the sea, Fujiyama, the skyscrapers of Tokyo. She wanted to see Japan. Of course, back then she didn’t even have a clue what her innocence and curiosity would bring, but she had no regrets. All of the memories, from the sweet to the most bitter, were all very precious to her, and she promised to herself that she would always cherish them all. She will always remember them all.

Slowly, she made her way west, where she hoped to be able to reach the highway. She walked for a while, slowly treading through the snow, when she came across the wooden hut in the middle of the forest. It was dilapidated, just like it was a year ago. Nothing had changed. From the partially collapsed wooden roof, the little shed by the side of the yard, and even to the wooden fencing. The place was untouched. The girl smiled to herself, thinking of all the sweet memories that took place there.

It was then when she heard a noise behind her, people shouting her name. She heard the voice of her mother, frail and weak, the booming voice of her father, as well as the hoarse yelling of the shrine priest. Gasping in shock, the girl quickly fled, making her way to the back of the shed. She knew they wouldn’t look for her there, they never would. Only she knew about the small area behind the shed.

Crawling underneath the frozen thicket surrounding the dilapidated structure, she managed to lean against the wooden wall, propping her body up, trying desperately to lean against the wall. In front of her was a shallow ravine, the rocks there caked in frost and snow.

She heard the footsteps of the group nearby. She heard the father suggesting the group to search the building for her, but the priest intervened in his croaky voice that it would be too dangerous, and that the girl could not possibly be in there. She heard her mother weeping, sobbing in short breaths. She called out her name repeatedly, again and again, hysteria overcoming her. The girl could almost smell the tears pouring down her mother’s cheeks. People in the group started murmuring. The girl held her breath, her heart thumping in her chest, praying silently that they would not find her.

Then, a voice of a young man, crisp and clear suddenly voiced out, suggesting that the girl might have turned east, towards Otoda. The group discussed in hushed voices for a moment, before they decided to head for the coastal town of Otoda. The girl still heard the mother’s weeping. One last time, she heard her mother scream out her name, shrill with worry and sorrow. Her mother’s screams echoed against the mountains, long after the sounds of their footsteps disappeared. The girl silently thanked the beholder of that voice, who without him knowing, had helped her.

The wind blew gently, caressing he girl’s hair. Gracefully, she ran her fingers through her hair, removing the snowflakes tangled within the strands. Her hair was originally black, but she had dyed it a light shade of ochre when they were in Tokyo. Her lips curved up into a gentle, sad, smile as she reminisced how he would run his fingers through her hair, commenting on how beautiful it was. He would comment on how sweetly-scented her shampoo was, then laugh. Sometimes, he enjoyed teasing her. His laugh, his smile, they would stay with her forever, eternally etched in the decaying depths of her sorrowful, broken heart.

The girl moved her right foot, reaching for the edge of the shed, near the thicket where she crawled under earlier. Now, she thought, she had to make her way to Morioka. It was not the time for tears. She had to start heading east, and hopefully she would end up back in Tokyo.

Nobody could know for sure how she ended up at the clearing at the bottom of the ravine. She might have slipped on the snow-covered rocks, or the loose rocks and frozen soil might have given way beneath her. Perhaps it was divine intervention, a mercy killing to end her suffering.

The girl lay on the snow-covered ground, snowflakes falling from the heavens, covering her frail body. She could not move. She could feel the warm blood seeping from her head, where the hard ground had hit her. She breathed her last raspy breaths, crimson blood trickling from between her cold dry lips. Her eyelids were heavy, and the snow, the trees, the rocks, they all seemed to gradually disappear, swallowed in darkness.

She could only see him amidst the pitch black. A red scarf wrapped around his neck, over a grey coat. Just like what he wore that day, the morning they left together for Morioka, the day she fled the little town nestled in the mountains. He smiled at her, the warm smile of his, revealing those white teeth of his. The smile that had always made her feel safe. The smile that she had promised to forever cherish. He laughed as he extended his hand.

Before her last breath was taken away from her, she managed to curl her lips into a sweet smile.

“If this fate, then I shall gladly accept it,” her whimpering heart whispered, before it stopped beating. Forever.

In the field of pure white, red flowers bloom.