Information

Hazakura
Legacy Name: Hazakura

The Glacier Antlephore
Owner: Kimono

Age: 16 years, 8 months, 1 week

Born: July 11th, 2009

Adopted: 16 years, 8 months, 1 week ago (Legacy)

Adopted: July 11th, 2009 (Legacy)

Statistics

• Level: 5
   
• Strength: 8
   
• Defense: 10
   
• Speed: 6
   
• Health: 10
   
• HP: 10/10
   
• Intelligence: 6
   
• Books Read: 0
• Food Eaten: 0
• Job: Unemployed

She was supposed to be a cherry tree in bloom, for all eternity. her only fond memory was of her mother brushing her elegant, blonde hair, singing quietly. It was quiet then, before He came.

They had a fatal attraction, a dangerous spark of love. It was so utterly cliche, the princess loving the rebel, but she couldn�t help it. He was irresistible. A magnetic personality, they would say later, with the seed of madness sown in the pits of his soul. But still she loved him. It was the tentative budding of her affection, the hesitant hugs and chaste kisses he gave her that did her in. She couldn�t leave him, for all the nasty rumors they said about him. 
It was spring, and he was still there, still so gentle and sweet, still so rough and intimidating. He swore to never hurt her in the beginning of their romance, and he held true to that oath. She was reaching her prime, where all girls become adults. She was ready to blossom into a gorgeous flower, and she was ready. She loved him so much.

He was ready to leave, bag hoisted over his shoulder. She looked on with tearful eyes, silently pleading him to stop, to stay, to be with her forever. They had spoken, argued, and cried over his parting, yet he was resolute. He would serve his country in the only way he could. Long gone was the rebellious child that had run into her while she was oh so young. Standing before her was a man, ready to fight, ready to die. She had grown up to be a beauty, golden tresses catching the sun, rosy cheeks rosier than ever in the harsh cold of the winter. 

She waited, ever faithful for him. It had been six months, and he hadn�t replied to her letter. Endless worry gnawed at her, and she began to grow sick for him. She needed him. But she still held true to their promise, and rejected numerous advances. She would stay faithful to him, as he promised to stay faithful to her.

He died protecting another woman and his team, the man told her somberly. Their guide, an old woman, led he and his team accidentally into a danger zone, filled with civil strife and frequent shootings. He had helped them escape, but was shot brutally in their place. He was a hero, the man said, and will be duly awarded. She was numb, so numb. She dimly registered a faint cawing in the air, the rustles of the tree leaves, the dropping of petals onto the ground. But for her, time stilled. He was dead. He was dead. He was dead. There would be no more secret kisses, no small smiles, no hidden glances. There would be no comforting hugs, no gentle assurances, no fierce passion smoldering in his eyes. He was no more.

She remained the same, trapped in that day forever. Though time passed, though she did not. She became immortal, encased in a heavy shell of ice. Life no longer existed for her, but Death did not either. She loved him. But he died. She relocated to a small cottage near his grave, and she stayed there, continuing her ever silent, frozen vigil. She would never change, for he could never change. And while the seasons passed, and it was warm spring once again, it would always be forever winter for her.

And as she lay by his grave one final night, she smiled gently, for the trees rustling and the wind blowing made the night air sigh again and again, �Fuyuki... Fuyuki..�

And there she passed, lying next to him. Hazakura and Fuyuki, a blooming cherry tree and a snowy winter.

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