He’s always disliked them. Even as he stands beneath them, blooming, beautiful; the streets lined and lit up in a vibrant pink, the sun’s light pouring through each small gap it can find - he still can't shake that feeling. The lives of cherry blossoms are fleeting; they fall at five centimetres per second, and once they reach the ground, their worth has come to an end. They lie on the ground only to be trampled over and forgotten, their beauty and significance lost after they fall from grace. And humans, humans are the same. It's said that beneath a cherry blossom tree are the bodies of humans. Maybe that explains why the lives of the blossoms, no more than ten days, are so short. They follow in the footsteps of the beings six feet under.

 

He doesn't like them either.

 

At least, not all of them.

 

“Chikage-san!” The call of his name is gentle, but loud enough to drown out the bustling crowd here to view the cherry blossoms before they fade. He turns to acknowledge the presence, slowly, easy, and tucks his arms into the sleeves of his haori.

 

Chikage Kazama might not like cherry blossoms, but the woman making her way towards him looks picture-perfect among them.

 

“You're late.” He says, having waited here more than long enough.

 

She pouts, “you were just early.” And there's a chuckle, a low rumble in his throat, that has her pointing a finger at him accusingly. “You know you were early!”

 

“Yes, yes, but who can blame me when it was my bride who told me to meet her here?”

 

“I-I'm not your bride yet, Chikage-san!”

 

He hums thoughtfully, grabs the wrist of the hand with a finger pointed at him, and pulls her toward him. His other hand settles upon her waist. “But you will be. So you are.”

 

People around them glance in their direction, and the pouty frown on Chizuru’s face doesn't last long before it's accompanied by a small flush - missable in this pink-hued environment, but undeniably visible in his eyes. Letting go of her wrist, he uses that hand to press his fingers to the side of her cheek and leans down to kiss her before she can catch on to what it is he wants to do. After that, he pulls away entirely.

 

“So, you called me out here saying it was important, what do you want?” He turns his head and looks upward, once again towards the cherry blossoms, and this time he thinks of Hakuouki, the one human man he deemed worthy of gracing with a name reserved for demon-kind. The essence of his demonic powers may have been fake, but with their blades crossing so many times, with their final encounter taking place beneath the cherry blossoms, even he had to acknowledge the pride and will of that man was unlike any other. It was almost like his own. Maybe, many years ago, Chikage too might have been just as reckless. Time and age worked so much differently for demons after all.

 

“--viewing.”

 

“What?” He shakes the distracting recollections from mind.

 

There's a pout again. “You weren't listening. I wanted you to come cherry blossom viewing, I said.” Before he can respond, however, she holds up her hand; palm facing him, in order to silence him. “I know you've said you don't like them, but… I want to try and change that.”

 

If anything - anyone - can change his mind, it would be her. Though he would never deign to admit it aloud, she knows. And he knows she knows, because it’s always used to her advantage. His pride may make him petty over it, but he never outrightly denies it either. She is special, and he accepts that wholeheartedly - because despite differences and discrepancies, it is him that she chose. And he would chose no other than her for himself.

 

So, though he makes an indignant sound, he doesn’t deny her the opportunity. He doesn’t think this is something so easily overcome; but perhaps the same could have been said of the time he hated all humans for their greed and filth, so he is willing to try. Being with her, admittedly, makes him far more happy than he had ever expected. And he’s not a boor, nor a heartless villain; he isn’t so selfish that it’s only his pride and joy that matters - if something as simple as this will please her, who is he to reject?

 

He unfolds his arms as he turns around, and extends the hand at his right side. “This is what you want to do, isn’t it?” he doesn’t look back, just waits patiently. Just as he had expected, she joins him at his side, lacing her fingers between his - her small hand is just as precious as the rest of her, and he catches himself smiling about it. She is also sharp, and giggles beside him at the sight of it. She won’t comment, because she knows she will only receive a petulant response, or some dishonest snark that they both know to be lies as he tries to save face over being some mushy romantic. Which is most definitely is not, in the slightest.

 

There is a quiet as they walk hand in hand, both watching the blossoms as they fall around them. “Chikage-san.” Her voice is gentle as always, soothing, as she calls for his attention. “I made lunches.” she announces, drawing his attention to the neatly wrapped material she is carrying in her free hand. “Shall we find somewhere to sit?”

 

Chikage remains silent for a minute, and then lets out a sigh. “You don’t always have to ask.” he mutters, “you’re my bride, Chizuru Yukimura, if you want something, you can demand it. If it’s you then… It’s fine.” He feels oddly tense, especially when she chooses not to reply instantly. It’s easier to toss stupid remarks between one another (full of affection as they may be) than it is to be open. And then Chizuru starts laughing, and Chikage holds her hand tighter, looking nonchalantly in an entirely different direction.

 

“Hehe… Chikage-san… You were finally honest.” She says, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes with the fingers she can spare.

 

“I don’t see why that’s so funny.” He tries to snap back, but the malice is totally missing from his tone.

 

“Sorry, sorry,” she grins, “you just never are. The cherry blossoms make you think a lot, don’t they?” she leans in closer. “But, if what you say is true…” she lets go of his hand and dashes a few paces forward. She stands ahead of him, and he comes to a stop, forced to look in her direction. “Then,” she places her hands on her hips. “You’re going to have lunch with me out here, under these cherry blossoms, and you’re going to tell me your feelings. About them, about me… I want to know more about you.”

 

This time, it’s Chikage’s turn to laugh, though it’s far less an explosion of amusement and more a resignation to his fate at the hands of this woman. “You’re insufferable.”

 

“I learned from the best.”