The next morning, the valley was too quiet.
No birds sang. No breeze moved the branches. Only the blossoms drifted — slow, deliberate — as though some unseen rhythm guided them.
Sakura stood near the river, her reflection rippling in the water. But the face that looked back wasn't hers. The reflection smiled when she didn't. Its eyes glowed a deep violet — far brighter, far colder.
> "You're trembling," the spiritwalker said softly, coming up beside her.
She didn't answer right away. Her gaze was fixed on the water. "Do you see it?"
He leaned closer — and froze. The reflection wasn't just hers. His own stood beside it, but its eyes burned gold, and its mouth moved though he hadn't spoken.
> "We are what was forgotten," the reflections whispered. "And what must return."
The air cracked. Water rippled outward in concentric circles, and suddenly the world bent — trees stretching upward like spears of glass, petals turning black as they fell.
Sakura staggered back, clutching her chest. "It's starting again. The cycle's bleeding through."
> "What does that mean?"
> "Our memories… our past lives. They're trying to merge with this one. If we can't contain it, this world will collapse into the reflection of the old."
The ground shimmered. For a heartbeat, the ruins looked whole again — the shrine rebuilt, divine light spilling from its arches. Then it flickered, half-present, half-forgotten.
Sakura pressed her hands together, summoning faint glows from her cracked spirit lines. "There's something calling us deeper — beneath the roots, under the shrine."
The spiritwalker nodded, steadying her. "Then we go."
---
They descended into the earth through the remnants of an old stairway hidden behind the shrine. Each step echoed like a heartbeat, and faint whispers followed them down — fragments of voices, laughter, sorrow.
As they walked, the walls began to shimmer with moving images — flashes of the past.
> "That's us," he said quietly.
> "Fragments," she replied. "Echoes of what the gods wanted us to forget."
They stopped before a vast chamber — a cavern of mirrors carved from obsidian, glowing faintly with golden cracks. At the center stood an ancient altar entwined with the roots of the oldest cherry tree.
On it rested a mirror — fractured but still whole enough to reflect.
> "The Mirror of Memory," Sakura whispered. "This is where it began."
> "You mean… where we were cursed?"
> "Yes. When I chose you over eternity."
Her hand trembled as she reached for it. The mirror pulsed, and the reflections within came alive — showing countless versions of them: warrior and goddess, human and spirit, lovers, enemies, strangers reunited by fate.
Each reflection moved slightly out of sync, as if struggling to merge.
> "If we touch it," she said, "we could remember everything… or lose ourselves completely."
He looked at her — truly looked — at the exhaustion in her eyes, the cracks of divine light crawling along her skin, the way her spirit flickered between human warmth and celestial power.
> "I'll do it with you," he said simply. "We started this together."
Sakura smiled faintly, tears glimmering. "You always say that."
Together, they touched the mirror.
---
The chamber exploded with light.
Every lifetime flooded back — laughter, tears, battles, deaths, promises. Every version of them collided in that single instant. They saw each other through every age: a samurai and a shrine maiden; a scholar and a forgotten spirit; a soldier and a dying goddess beneath a rain of petals.
> "We've done this so many times," he gasped.
> "And each time, I fall," she whispered. "Each time, you find me… and each time, I forget why."
The mirror began to crack further, light spilling from within like blood.
> "The cycle must end." The voice wasn't theirs — it came from everywhere, from the gods themselves.
Sakura screamed as the divine light surged through her, lifting her into the air. The petals around her turned crimson.
> "No!" he shouted, reaching for her.
Her voice broke through the storm:
> "If this is how it ends… then let me fall knowing we tried again."
The mirror shattered.
Light and darkness burst outward, consuming the cavern in a wave of petals. The last thing he saw before the world went white was Sakura — eyes glowing, hair whipping like a storm — smiling through tears as everything broke apart.
---
When he awoke, the valley was silent once more.
The cherry trees still stood. The air smelled of rain. But the sigil on his palm was gone.
And beneath the largest tree, a single pink petal lay glowing faintly — pulsing like a heartbeat.
He knelt, picking it up. It was warm.
> "Every spring," he whispered, "until the last blossom falls." 🌸