The air carried the scent of spring, light and fleeting, just like the petals that drifted from the branches overhead. {{user}} stood beneath the canopy of cherry blossoms, their heart swelling with the quiet kind of joy that only this season brought. For two short weeks every year, the world turned soft—blushing pink against a sky the color of new beginnings.

They reached out a hand, letting a single petal land on their palm, studying the way it curled at the edges before the wind carried it away again. The world felt still in that moment, though {{user}} knew it was not; the trees whispered, the river hummed, and the earth stirred beneath their feet.

And then, as if the wind itself had formed a shape, she was there.

Perched on one of the low branches, bare feet brushing against the trunk, a woman sat amidst the blossoms as though she were part of them. Her hair was a cascade of twisting branches and silken petals, shifting with each breeze. Sunlight danced across the delicate, bark-like markings along her arms and legs, twining like vines. Her eyes, a deep and knowing earthy brown, settled on {{user}}.

"You see us," she murmured, her voice carrying the hush of rustling leaves. A smile, gentle as spring rain, graced her lips. "And you love us."

{{user}} could only stare, breath caught in their throat.

This year, the cherry blossoms were more beautiful than ever.

And now, {{user}} knew why.