Sakura
[ Home ]To my dearest sister Sakura,
A few days ago, I learned from a book that in Hokkaido, sakuras bloom in late April. Do you want to go to Hokkaido and have a walk in the sakura rain, when everything happening now is done and dusted？
I sincerely hope from the bottom of my heart that day will come.
Love,
Brother Haruto
I used to hate sakuras.
According to Brother Haruto, I was born on a rainy night. The wind was whistling and sakura petals from the sakura tree in the yard of my house were dancing in the turbulent storm. The soft petals were drenched by the rainstrops, but they remained their pride and nobility in the rhapsody of the raindrops. Brother Haruto might have been impressed. It was probably the reason I was named "Sakura" by him.
It was 1942, and Japan was in total danger. The fire of wars and battles already spread inside the country. People were living in fear and worries, starving and praying for victories. More and more men stood up and joined the armies; they left with pride in the expectations of others, and that was the end of the whole story.
Brother Haruto became one of them.
I used to hate Brother Haruto, not less than my hatred for sakuras. He was eight years older than me and was always described as a"perfect person" : handsome, intelligent, gentleman, helpful, understanding... He was everyone's dream, but a nightmare to me. How was I supposed to compete with such a person? Although it was what I was always asked to do.
Compared to him, I was far too ordinary, just like sakuras, which never deserves to be in the middle of the stage of life. My name was a chain, deciding my fate since the start of the whole play. I hated my destiny, and consequently hated Brother Haruto.
Brother Haruto did not seem to sense that, though. He loved sakuras as usual, and also me. Anytime he heard about sakuras, his eyes brightened. He even planted a sakura tree in the yard of the house, and I, although unwillingly, could do nothing with that. I was just not good enough when compared to him, so I would never have the privilege to stop him from doing anything I did not want him to do.
I did not understand. I did not understand why he could be so excellent; I did not understand why my fate was destined to be a replacer. Sakuras are not born to be replacers, but why am I?
At the time I had not realised that one day, there would be nobody for me to hate or replace.
Brother Haruto left. He joined the army abruptly and suddenly, and he soon disappeared. He left an invitation in my drawer with a piece of sakura petals: "Do you want to go to Hokkaido and have a walk in the sakura rain, when everything happening now is done and dusted？"
I took it as his promise, but he broke it.
1945, Japan unconditionally surrendered to the pressure of its lack of productivity and the ruinous catastrophe caused by the atomic bombs. Everyone was waiting for Brother Haruto to come back, but he did not.
I have never imagined that my "perfect" brother would also be defeated one day.
Two years later, when I was packing Brother Haruto's belongings, I accidentally discovered a pile of letters in his old desk. They have been covered with dust for so many years, together with our past.
During the progress of my reading, I slowly and carefully uncovered the dusty past before his leaving, and started to know my brother again. Those old letters, surprisingly, were all writings to me. His love for me, which I have never appreciated, was revealed clearly in his words.
I have never imagined to be loved by someone so deeply, especially by someone as "perfect" as him. I always thought no one loved ordinary sakuras, but I was wrong.
To my dearest Sakura,
Everything will end peacefully. When can we watch the sakuras again, together?
Warm tears ran down my cheek uncontrollably, drenching the tiny, creased and withered sakura in the envelope.
I never knew how much he loved me, just like he never knew how much I used to resent him.
Everything was too late, though. We would never be able to walk in the sakura rain in Hokkaido, spending our time together. We even did not have time for a formal farewell.
Dear Brother Haruto,
Sakuras have bloomed again.
But in the world without you.