When Petals Turn to Blades
Spring deepened.
The sakura trees surrounding Sakura High School bloomed brighter with each passing day, their petals falling like fragments of a dream too beautiful to be real. Students admired them, took photos, laughed beneath them—unaware that something ancient was awakening along with the flowers.
Hijuku felt it.
From the moment he stepped onto school grounds that morning, his chest felt tight, as if something invisible was pulling at his heart.
Thump.
Thump.
His heartbeat didn't feel like his own.
He stood near the classroom window, watching petals drift past the glass. Each one seemed to glow faintly before fading into nothing.
"Oi!, Fujita."
Ren leaned over his desk. "You okay? You've been spacing out since morning."
Hijuku blinked and forced a smile. "Yeah. Just didn't sleep well."
That wasn't a lie.
Last night's dream still clung to his mind—the crimson sky, the endless petals, the girl with eyes full of sorrow.
Sakura…
His gaze shifted unconsciously toward the back of the school.
Toward the tree.
The final bell rang.
Students poured into the corridors, their voices echoing through the building. Hijuku packed his bag slowly, his movements hesitant.
"Hey, wanna head home together?" Ren asked.
Hijuku shook his head. "Sorry. I… need some air."
Ren raised an eyebrow but shrugged. "Suit yourself. Don't get lost under the sakura tree."
Hijuku laughed weakly.
If only you knew.
The back of the school was quieter.
The massive sakura tree stood tall, its branches stretching wide like open arms. The air around it felt warmer, heavier—almost alive.
Hijuku approached slowly.
Each step sent a strange sensation through his body, like invisible threads tightening around his soul.
"Don't."
He froze.
Sakura stood a few meters away, her expression unusually serious.
"I told you not to come here alone," she said.
Hijuku turned. "You didn't say why."
She clenched her fists. "Because this place isn't safe for you."
"That's funny," Hijuku replied quietly. "This is the only place where I feel… calm."
Sakura looked away.
"That's exactly why it's dangerous."
Before Hijuku could ask more, the wind changed.
Petals stopped falling.
The air went cold.
Sakura's eyes widened. "Get back."
"What—"
A sharp crack split the ground.
Black symbols flared across the sakura tree's roots, glowing like burning ink. Shadows twisted unnaturally, stretching and merging until they formed three human-like figures cloaked in dark robes.
Hijuku's breath caught.
"Who… are they?"
Sakura stepped in front of him without hesitation.
"Bloom Hunters," she said. "They shouldn't be here yet."
One of the figures tilted its head.
"So the heart has finally awakened," it rasped. "And the Guardian still clings to her emotions."
Hijuku felt a sudden pressure slam into his chest.
Heart.
Awakened.
Guardian.
His knees buckled—
—but Sakura grabbed his wrist.
Her hand was warm.
"Stay with me," she whispered.
Something inside Hijuku snapped.
The ground trembled.
Petals exploded into the air, spinning violently around him like a storm. The Hunters staggered back in surprise.
Sakura stared at him. "Hijuku…?"
"I don't know what's happening," he said, his voice shaking. "But they're trying to hurt you."
The lead Hunter laughed. "How touching."
It raised its hand—
A blade of condensed shadow shot toward Sakura.
Hijuku moved without thinking.
He stepped forward.
And caught it.
The blade shattered into glowing petals upon contact with his palm.
Silence fell.
Everyone stared.
Hijuku stared too.
"…I did that?"
The Hunters hissed in alarm. "Impossible. He hasn't awakened fully!"
Sakura grabbed his shoulders. "Listen to me. Whatever you feel—don't let it control you."
Their faces were close.
Too close.
Hijuku's heart raced—not from fear this time.
Her eyes… they weren't cold or distant now.
They were scared.
For him.
"I won't let anyone touch you," he said.
The words came out before he could stop them.
Sakura's breath hitched.
"Idiot," she whispered. "That's not how this world works."
The Hunters attacked together.
Shadow blades. Chains. Screams in the air.
Sakura moved like lightning, seals flashing beneath her feet as she struck back. But there were too many.
One slipped past her.
Straight toward Hijuku.
Pain ripped through his chest.
A memory flashed—
A man holding him as a child.
Warm milk.
A gentle voice calling him son.
"Dad—!"
Something ancient roared awake.
The sakura tree blazed with light.
Roots burst from the ground, wrapping around the Hunter and crushing it into nothingness.
The remaining figures retreated instantly.
"This isn't over," one hissed. "When the tree blooms fully… you will belong to us."
They vanished.
Hijuku collapsed.
Sakura caught him before he hit the ground.
She held him tightly.
Too tightly.
"Don't scare me like that again," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Hijuku looked up at her, dizzy but conscious.
"You were crying."
She froze.
"…I don't cry."
"Liar," he murmured, smiling weakly.
Her grip tightened.
"Hijuku," she said softly, "if you stay close to me… your life will
never be normal again."
He reached up and touched her sleeve.
"That's fine."
She looked down at him.
"For some reason," he continued, "I feel like I've been waiting to meet you."
The sakura petals began to fall again.
Slowly.
Gently.
From the school rooftop, a figure watched silently.
"So the heart chooses to protect," the figure murmured.
"Interesting."
The game had begun.
The Cherry Blossom Cafe was quieter than usual.
The soft chime of the bell above the door rang as customers came and went, their laughter mixing with the faint aroma of coffee and freshly baked bread. Outside, petals drifted past the wide glass windows, clinging briefly before sliding away.
Behind the counter, Hideo Fujita wiped the same spot again and again.
He had already cleaned it.
Still, his hands wouldn't stop moving.
"Your coffee, sir," he said with a polite smile, placing a cup down for a regular customer.
"You look tired today, Fujita," the man said casually. "Your son keeping you up?"
Hideo chuckled lightly. "Something like that."
But as soon as the customer turned away, Hideo's smile faded.
His chest felt tight.
Uncomfortably tight.
It was the same feeling he'd had years ago—seventeen years ago—when he had found a crying child beside a dustbin as cherry blossoms fell around them.
Hijuku…
Hideo glanced at the clock.
6:42 PM.
Hijuku should've been home by now.
He shook his head. "Calm down. It's his first day. He's probably just slow."
Yet the unease wouldn't fade.
A sudden clatter echoed as a cup slipped from Hideo's hand and shattered on the floor.
"Ah—sorry!" he muttered.
One of the part-time workers rushed over. "Boss, are you okay?"
"Yeah. Just distracted," Hideo said, forcing a laugh. "I'll clean it."
But as he crouched to pick up the pieces, his hand froze.
The cherry blossom charm tied around his wrist—something he'd worn for as long as he could remember—was glowing faintly.
"…Huh?"
He stared at it.
The glow faded almost immediately, leaving the charm cold in his palm.
Hideo's heart pounded.
"That hasn't happened in years," he whispered.
He straightened abruptly.
"Close the cafe early," he said.
The worker blinked. "Eh? But—"
"I'll handle things here. You can go."
There was something in his voice that discouraged questions.
---
The walk home felt longer than usual.
The streetlights flickered faintly as Hideo moved quickly, his footsteps echoing through the quiet neighborhood. The petals on the ground crunched softly beneath his shoes.
With every step, memories surfaced—memories he never fully understood.
A sakura tree.
A promise.
A night that refused to stay forgotten.
"Hah…" He exhaled sharply. "Why now?"
When he reached the house, the lights were off.
"Hijuku?" he called out as he unlocked the door.
No answer.
The unease turned into fear.
He stepped inside—and froze.
Hijuku lay on the futon, unconscious.
A girl knelt beside him.
Hideo's instincts kicked in instantly.
"Who are you?" he demanded.
The girl turned slowly.
It was Sakura.
She met his gaze without flinching.
"He'll be fine," she said quietly.
Hideo's eyes dropped to Hijuku's face—pale, exhausted, but breathing steadily.
"…What happened to my son?" Hideo asked, his voice low.
Sakura hesitated.
For a moment, the room felt unbearably heavy.
"There are things about him," she finally said, "that even you don't remember."
Hideo laughed bitterly. "Then start talking."
Sakura looked down at Hijuku, her expression softening.
"He protected me," she said. "Even though he shouldn't have been able to."
Hideo clenched his fists.
The charm on his wrist grew warm.
"I don't know what kind of world you belong to," he said slowly, "but Hijuku belongs here. With me."
Sakura looked up.
"I know."
Silence filled the room.
Outside, the wind picked up, scattering petals against the window.
Hideo knelt beside his son and placed a hand on his forehead.
"You've always been like this," he murmured. "Running toward danger… even when you were just a baby."
Sakura's eyes widened slightly.
"You remember?"
Hideo closed his eyes.
"No," he admitted. "But my heart does."
Hijuku stirred faintly.
"…Dad…?"
Hideo smiled instantly, all fear melting away.
"I'm here, big boy."
Sakura watched them quietly, something aching in her chest.
This warmth… she thought. This is what the sakura was trying to protect.
But warmth never lasted forever.
Somewhere beyond the city, beneath roots older than time, shadows began to move again.
And this time—
They were coming for the father too.