The Girl in the Cherry Blossom Story
It was 11:39 in the evening when I read the poem for the fifth time.
The old book lay open on my desk, its yellowed pages curling slightly at the edges
The cover had become soft with age, and the spine was barely holding together
Whenever I turned a page, it made a quiet cracking sound, as though the book itself disliked being disturbed.
I should have stopped reading. Honestly, I wanted to
My eyes were tired
My brain was begging me to close the book
But there was something about that poem that kept pulling me back
Maybe it was the story
Maybe it was the strange girl in the illustration
Or maybe it was because my grandfather had once told me that I should never read it after midnight.
I had always thought that was ridiculous
Until tonight
I stared at the illustration again
A girl stood beneath a cherry blossom tree
She looked young
Too young to be called a princess
Her long dark hair fell over her shoulders, and pale petals surrounded her like snow
Her face was beautiful, but there was something unsettling about her expression
She wasn't smiling
She wasn't crying
She simply looked... empty
Underneath the illustration was a name
Princess Sakura
The story claimed she had appeared centuries ago during a winter when the cherry blossoms bloomed despite the cold.
According to the legend, she was a princess who possessed a strange body
She never became sick
She never complained of hunger
She could walk barefoot through snow without trembling. She could endure freezing temperatures without feeling cold.
And supposedly
she could not feel pain
The villagers believed she wasn't entirely human
Some called her a blessing
Others called her a curse
The legend ended differently depending on who told it
Some versions said she disappeared beneath the cherry blossom tree
Others said she simply walked into the forest and was never seen again
But my grandfather had always insisted that the original story had a different ending
One he refused to tell me
I turned another page
Then stopped
There was something written beneath the printed text
A sentence
Tiny
Almost invisible
I leaned closer "She will return when the last child remember" I frowned
That wasn't part of the poem
I ran my fingertip over the handwriting
The ink had faded, but the words were still readable
"Who wrote this?"
No answer
Of course
I glanced toward the empty chair beside my desk
For half a second, I imagined my grandfather sitting there
He used to sit beside me whenever I read
He would bring tea
He would complain that I was staying awake too late
Then he'd tell me stories about things I wasn't sure were real
He had died in 2013
Sometimes, I still forgot
Sometimes I would turn around expecting him to be there
Then reality would quietly remind me that he wasn't
I swallowed
"Grandpa..."
The room remained silent
I looked back at the book
There was another line beneath the first
I hadn't noticed it before
I reached for the small magnifying glass beside the lamp
The words became clearer
"Sakura"
Then another
"Hinami"
And beneath both name
H-01
My stomach tightened
I stared at the letters
H-01
What did that mean? A character designation? A page number? Some forgotten code? I flipped backward through the book.
Nothing
Forward
Nothing
I checked the margins
Nothing
Then I noticed something strange
The pages before the illustration were numbered normally
But the pages immediately after it had no numbers at all
I turned one
Blank
Another
Blank
Another
A faint symbol appeared near the bottom corner
It looked almost like a thread twisted into a knot
I touched it
The lamp flickered
I froze
Then the light returned
I laughed nervously
"Okay"
I closed the book
That was enough
I pushed it away from me and stood
I was halfway toward my bedroom when something fell from between the pages
A photograph
It landed face-down on the floor
I stared at it
I hadn't seen any photograph in the book before
Slowly, I picked it up
The picture was old
Black and white
A woman stood in what looked like a hospital room
She was holding a newborn baby
Her face was blurred by age
But the child was clear
A small face
Eyes closed
Wrapped tightly in a white blanket
On the back of the photograph, someone had written: "H-01" Nothing else
I turned it over again
The baby stared back at me
For some reason, I couldn't breathe
It wasn't because the baby looked strange
It was because I knew that face
Not literally.
Not logically
But somewhere inside me, something recognized it
I dropped the photograph
Years earlier, another girl had been born
Her name was "Sakura Jhazara Okinawa"
She was not born into an ordinary family
She didn't even know who her parents were
The only person she had ever truly called family was her grandfather
He raised her
Protected her
And lied to her
At least, that was what Sakura would eventually discover
When she was young, she realized that her body was different
She didn't get hungry the way other children did
She rarely became sick
Cold temperatures didn't bother her
Heat didn't either
And injuries that should have hurt... didn't
At first, she thought everyone was like her
She learned otherwise at school
Other children cried when they fell
Sakura simply stood up
Other children complained when the classroom became too cold
Sakura didn't notice
Other children became pale when they were sick
Sakura remained perfectly calm
The adults noticed
They always noticed
Eventually, the whispers began
Monster
Demon
Psycho
Not human
Sakura learned not to react
Her grandfather always told her: "People fear what they don't understand"
She had believed him
For years
Until one night, when she overheard him speaking on the telephone
"You promised me the project was finished"
Silence
Then: "No."
Another pause
"You don't get to call her a subject anymore"
Sakura had been standing outside his study
She was only thirteen
She didn't understand what he meant.
She only understood one thing.
Her grandfather was afraid.
And he was afraid "for her"
Sakura grew older.
The strange things continued.
She couldn't remember ever feeling genuinely warm.
Not from sunlight.
Not from blankets.
Not from hot drinks.
Nothing.
Warmth was something she understood intellectually.
Not physically.
She knew what it was supposed to feel like
. She had watched other people experience it.
She had seen them hold cups of coffee between their hands.
She had seen people stand under the sun and close their eyes.
She had seen children hug their parents when they were cold.
Sakura understood the concept.
But her body didn't.
Until one winter evening.
She was sitting beside an open window.
Snow fell outside.
She didn't feel it.
Then a cherry blossom petal drifted through the window.
Sakura watched it descend.
Slowly
Almost deliberately
It landed against her palm.
Nothing happened.
Then warmth.
Sakura froze.
Her eyes widened.
The sensation lasted less than a second.
But it was real.
Warm.
Soft.
Alive.
She immediately pulled her hand away.
The petal fell onto the floor.
"What..."
She stared at her palm.
Nothing.
Cold.
Normal.
She touched it again.
Nothing.
Her heart began beating faster.
For the first time in her life, she wanted to understand something she couldn't explain.
She picked up the petal.
And suddenly a voice whispered inside her mind.
"H-01"
Sakura dropped it.
She stumbled backward.
The room was empty.
Nobody had spoken.
Yet she knew what she heard.
That same night, hundreds of kilometers away, an old underground facility powered itself back on.
Most of its systems had been abandoned for years.
Dust covered the corridors.
Machines stood beneath white sheets.
A security light flickered.
Then another.
One computer screen turned on.
A password prompt appeared.
"PROJECT HINAMI"
A series of numbers began appearing.
"01" "02" "01" "02"
The system paused.
Then displayed: "SUBJECT H-01: STABLE."
"SUBJECT H-02: ACTIVE"
"Compatibility status: UNKNOWN"
"Contact prohibited"
A warning appeared beneath it.
"DO NOT ALLOW THEM TO MEET"
The boy knew nothing about the facility.
He knew nothing about Project Hinami.
He knew nothing about Sakura.
As far as he knew, his childhood had been ordinary.
His mother had raised him.
She had loved him.
She had never told him that, before he was born, she had agreed to participate in a medical project.
She had never told him that another child had once been carried inside her.
A child who was not biologically related to her.
A child whose existence had been hidden.
A child named Sakura.
The boy had no reason to know any of this. But sometimes... he dreamed.
He dreamed of a girl standing beneath cherry blossoms.
He could never see her face.
He only knew that she was cold.
And somehow he was warm.
That night, he woke suddenly.
His room was dark.
His breathing was uneven.
He sat up and pressed a hand against his chest.
His heartbeat felt strange.
Too fast.
He looked toward the window.
A single cherry blossom petal rested on the sill.
He stared at it.
Then reached for it.
The moment his fingers touched it warmth spread through his hand.
He pulled away.
His expression changed.
"What was that?"
He looked around the room.
Nothing.
Only silence.
Only darkness.
Only the faint scent of something floral drifting through the air.
He didn't know why.
But for one impossible moment, he felt as though someone somewhere had just remembered him.
Sakura was still awake.
The old notebook lay open on her desk.
She hadn't touched it.
Yet a new page had appeared.
She stared at it.
At the center of the page was the same strange thread-like symbol.
Beneath it: "H-01" Sakura's hands went cold.
Then another line appeared beneath the number.
Not written in ink.
Not written by a hand.
It simply seemed to become visible as she watched.
"H-02 IS AWAKE."
Sakura stopped breathing.
She read it again.
Then again.
Who was H-02?
Why did the number feel familiar?
Why did she suddenly remember the warmth of the cherry blossom petal?
And why for the first time in her life did she feel as though someone was waiting for her?
She turned the page.
There was only one sentence.
"The first thread started before either of them knew the other existed"
Sakura stared at the words.
Outside her window, another cherry blossom petal drifted through the darkness.
She reached for it.
This time, she didn't pull away.
Because somewhere beyond the city, someone else was holding the same warmth.
Someone who didn't know her name.
Someone who didn't know why they were connected.
Someone who had been kept away from her for reasons neither of them could understand.
And somewhere in a forgotten laboratory, an old system continued counting.
"H-01."
"H-02."
Two subjects.
Two lives.
One secret.
And a thread that had never truly been cut.
—End of Prologue—