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BETWEEN FOUR JUNCTIONS
the girl herself replied, “Sakura. Shimada Sakura.”
“Sakura. Such a precious name for a woman of the same token.” All those witness to the event could see as clearly as they could the streets they stood on that it was a true love for the ages.
The star-crossed lovers would never be seen apart, cherishing a bond that would never break. The young prince asked for Sakura’s hand in marriage, and, of course, she accepted.
The esteemed Emperor resented these events, as to allow a jewel of his kingdom to be stolen by a foreigner was to surrender all respect from his allies. War was declared.
After the wedding, after the celebrations and the congratulations, the couple heard an uproar in the streets. On gazing outside from the marble palace in which they lay, Corinth saw his beloved city of Caecus in flames. Blood poured in rivers down the streets. Screams filled the city. Soldiers marched on, slashing their blades without mercy. The prince defended his legacy, but one final life had yet to be claimed by that savage night. Sakura lay on the ground beside Corinth as though sleeping, as though undisturbed by the blood in the streets on which she lay. But the blood on the ground told all.
In a fit of sadness, rage, and vengeance, Corinth cursed the Emperor sleeping in bliss with an unending guilt, that the murderer would never forget what he had committed.
The prince’s wife’s blood seeped into the ground, flowed to her home, and it fed the earth, growing trees from which grew blossom the same colour as her makeup, with her same fragrant aroma, flowers many as her admirers –a peaceful memory of a stolen soul.