The Sakura Tree

Dianna sat underneath the sakura tree in early spring with great anticipation and anxiety. In her hand was a letter with a single sentence written on it. “I will come back,” it read. Maroku had given it to her three summers ago when he left Japan with his father.

At times like this, when the cherry blossoms were just about to bloom, Dianna often came to this tree and dreamt about the many adventures Maroku and her encountered long ago. The tree brought back those many memories.

Before that last summer, Dianna could hardly remember a time in her life Maroku hadn’t been there. As she sat underneath the tree, she remembered the first time they ever met. It was here, right were she was sitting.
Dianna had been exploring the fields behind her house. She was new to the neighborhood and wanted to get to know her new home when a stray dog came up to her and started growling.

He barked and chased her when she ran. Before she realized it, Dianna lost her way in the narrow roads and ended up heading past the houses and into an open field. It had a couple of trees but the one that really stood out was a sakura tree on the hill. She sprinted for it with her last effort and began scrambling up the branches. She had never seen a tree like this before with its pink blossoms.

Other sakura trees were small with tiny limbs; this one towered over the surroundings. She would have admired its beauty if it wasn’t for the beast waiting below her. The dog barked at the base of the trunk as she climbed higher. Now she was trapped.

Ready to cry, Dianna suddenly heard a scream coming from across the field. When she looked over, she saw a young boy charging toward the tree. He looked small and rather wimpy to Dianna. He had a large branch in his hand and was waving it around like a mad man.

When the dog saw him, he first growled and looked ready to pounce. But when the boy didn’t back down, it ran. With the beast gone, Dianna climbed down from the tree. On the last branch she slipped but instead of hitting the ground, the boy caught her with his body and cushioned her fall.

“Daishobu desu ka?” Dianna asked if he was all right. Her English accent shot through the language.

“I’mmmmmmmm a-okay!” He shot her a wink and a thumb’s up. It was obvious she was more confident with English than Japanese.

The boy was as wimpy and small as Dianna originally noted. It was hard to think such a small boy could be so heroic. “That was very brave of you,” Dianna commented, “Fighting off that dog like that.”

“It’s no problem. That old mutt is all bark.” The boy waved his hand gesturing no effort.

“My name’s Dianna.” She smiled warmly.

“Hajimemashita,” he greeted her and plucked a cherry blossom from a dangling branch. “My name’s Maroku.” He then held out the flower to her and suddenly the wind blew all sorts of pedals out of the tree and into the air. It looked like they were dancing. It was a magical rain of pink and red as the children starred innocently at each other.

That had been the first time she ever made a real friend. She could still remember the flower he had given her. Before it could die, she dried and pressed it into a locket she now wore around her neck. Dianna wasn’t sure if he ever noticed as time went on but she cherished the gift everyday.

That same, familiar wind blew through the branches as Dianna sat there now. Tiny pedals trickled down on to her shoulders. She looked up. The sun was penetrating the shade in little beams that spotlighted the ground. It was warm for spring, but it was a pleasant warmth. Dianna pulled her long, silky hair from the back of her neck. It fell straight now. Dianna remembered how it use to curl and twist into knots as a child. When she and Maroku first met she always wore it up in a tight little braid that fell down the spine of her back. They were five when that dog chased her up the tree but now she was seventeen and very much grown up.

It was difficult without Maroku by her side. Sometimes she didn’t know how she did it. She didn’t have to worry about that anymore, he was coming home. In the pocket of her Sunday dress was another letter. It arrived last week and she hadn’t let it go since. It was a beautiful letter from Maroku about where he had been and what he was doing. The part that caught Dianna’s attention though was the last sentence. “I’m coming home next Tuesday.”

Maroku was such a funny boy when they were young. He was short and scrawny in the arms and his face was very round. The wimpy arms that swung that branch around so freely looked like plain bone. But his eyes, they were the deepest and most intense shade of black and brown she had ever seen.

Half of what made Maroku so great was that he could never back down from a challenge, despite his rather small body. He was a short but quick boy with a clever tongue. He use to talk himself out of all sorts of situations; he talked himself into a couple as well. This one time, when they were eleven, Maroku had instigated some high school boys after school and they had had enough of his mouth.

Two guys head been teasing Dianna about her red dress. They said she looked like a cupcake with barrette sprinkles. He walked right up to them and made some sort of wise-crake like “Back off sweet-tooth,” or something like that. Dianna only remembered laughing a little at it.
He then started making fun of anything he could about them.

He somehow managed to learn their names and where they went to school and used that as the butt of his joke. They didn’t catch on to his ploy at all. Then he told them he was the son of a hex witch and that he was going to put all of them under a curse. They didn’t take too kindly to that and almost beat the stuffing out of him then and there.

But he just stared at them, straight in the eye, and they backed off. His dark eyes were the reason that so many people believed his stories about being born from magic and have supernatural powers. Dianna would have believed his stories too if she didn’t know for a fact that his dad was a corporate president and his mother a baker. On the way home, he had this silly little grin on his face. His stories about witches and curses put him in a good mood every time he tricked somebody, especially when they deserved it.

“They won’t bother you anymore,” he promised her before dropping her off at her front door. He took her hand like a gentleman escorting a lady through a waltz and bowed. Then he departed in the same manner.

Every time he’d do something like that it made Dianna laugh. She admired how brave he was and powerful. He was like the branches of the sakura tree, strong and dependable. He would always support her no matter how high she climbed. Dianna often wondered what he was like now. Did he still remember their little secret, or the promise he made her all those years ago?

Everything was different now; what if being away for so long changed him? What if she was different too? But no matter what, they made a promise. Right here, underneath the sakura tree, they swore that no matter how the times changed, they never would. Had being in France for so long changed him? What if he returned to Japan and saw only a foolish child waiting for him. She looked over at a mount of dirt elevated from the land around it.

That was partially why she sat here today. If he wanted to find her, he would come here, to their special place. There was a time, long ago, when they would come to this spot and sit in the comfort of the tree for hours. It was there secret spot where they could share everything. They found comfort sitting under the swaying branches of cherry blossoms. There was something about this place that comforted them, even during the harder parts of life.

One time, when Maroku’s great aunt passed away, the only thing Dianna could think to do was to bring him to the tree. They were about thirteen at the time and he was very close to his aunt. She would come and visit him all the time and tell him stories about her many adventures around the world. That was where Maroku got all of his witch ideas. Those stories would fell back on Dianna’s ears whenever Maroku would retell them over and over again.

When she died of a traffic accident, he was beside himself in grief. For days, Dianna had not seen him, and when she did he was a cloudy gloom of depression. She couldn’t stand to see him like that. One day Dianna retrieved him from his house and brought him out to the sakura tree. They always met here and it was a feeling of security that Maroku needed right now. The tree was lifeless at the time because it was an icy winter but you could tell there was still life in its sleeping branches.

As Maroku took a seat under the tree, Dianna stood in front of him like she was about to put on a show. But instead of talking, she kneeled down and began collecting pebbles. There were all sorts of different colored and shaped rocks half embedded into the dirt. After she gathered a few, she laid them all down in a pile and began to make some weird patterns and outlines with them. It was rock art and Maroku had created it the year before.

After about two or three of Dianna’s trips, Maroku crawled over and began to help. He took a small, sandy pebble and stuck it in the center of a big circle of rocks. He then began digging up dirt and collecting it into a mound. Dianna watched him closely but continued to make her own rock designs.

Before long, he had a lump of dirt a good foot off the ground. He patted it down so that it was a solid canvas on one side and pressed rocks into it. He took the rocks and laid them with delicate care in a pattern that spelled out his aunt’s name. While he worked, neither of the kids said anything. Then Maroku leaned back and observed his final product. Dianna came over and rested her hand on his shoulder. He had constructed a burial mound. The pebbles on the mound spelled out Aunt Seikio. \

“They can’t bring her body back,” Maroku said to nobody in particular. It was the first time Dianna heard his voice all week. “A trucker hit her car. Mommy said it all blew up. She said the body was lost in the fire.” Little tears formed around his pupils. “I couldn’t even say goodbye.” The tears streamed down his cheeks in even rows. As he cried, Dianna just stood there with him.

With his eyes beet red he wiped his face clean and looked back up at the great tree. He started climbing into its dark branches. He climbed higher and higher. Dianna followed him. When he was as high as he could go, he stopped and looked out over the neighborhood.

From where he hung on the branch he could see all the way to forever. He looked older sitting in the fading sunlight. His eyes fazed in and out as if his mind was gliding across the sky. As she climbed up beside him, Dianna reached for his hand and squeezed it tight. They floated in the calming breeze of the late afternoon air as it started to get dark. It was like they were flying.

“It all seems so small from up here,” Maroku commented as he watched the people pass on the streets far off. “They’re like little ants just trying to survive another day.”

“They’re totally unaware that there’s someone looking over them right now.” Dianna added.

The last bit of sunlight outlined the rim of the world and Maroku looked at Dianna, “Thank you,” he smiled in only a way that a dear friend could. Dianna was sure it was the first time he smiled since the accident.
On their way down, Maroku stopped at the base of the tree and took one of the larger pebbles they had gathered that afternoon. In a matter of minutes, he had chiseled the letters M and D in the bark. Below them he imprinted a large eye.

“So you know there’s always someone looking over you,” he explained before he took Dianna home.

She looked back at the trunk now. While it was withered, she could still see the eye staring straight at her. There initial were swallowed by the bark but she remembered where they were. Dianna had never felt so close to anybody as she did that day. In the sakura tree they were like one being watching the neighborhood drift into the night.

Then it happened, Maroku’s dad’s business went international and he was assigned to run the company based in the north of France. The news came the day before school let out on break. They had been walking home like any other day. Then he had sprung it on her.

“You’re what?” Dianna asked in shock and horror.

“We’re moving,” Maroku mumbled.

“What? When? Why? How?” she was frantic.

Maroku was avoiding eye contact. He had a secret.

Dianna wasn’t long deceived. “When are you leaving?” she asked.
He scuffed his feet as they walked home from school. “Three days,” he murmured.

“THREE DAYS!?” Dianna screamed. “When did you find out?”

This is where Maroku froze up.

“How long have you known about this?” Dianna asked.

“He told me two months ago.”

“TWO MONTHS? And you didn’t bother to tell me?!” She was furious, “Some friend.”

“I’m sorry,” he tried to wipe the tear escaping her eye. She smacked his hand away and ran off. “Dianna? DIANNA!” He called her but didn’t give chase. He wouldn’t have known what to say if he caught her.
Dianna didn’t know where she was going; she didn’t care. Her heart was breaking. She ran down one street and then turned left at another.

Without realizing it she ended up at the sakura tree. Its branches were covered in thick walls of flowers and buds. Without hesitation, she climbed up into the protection of the tree. It’s endless pink and red patterns shielded her from the outside world. She hid herself where nobody could see her and there she waited. Her tears leaked out uncontrollably.

All of her memories plagued her mind about the days they played together. Every moment froze as if time was standing still. How could he do this to her? She was a fourteen-year-old girl about to lose the most important person in her life and he didn’t even bother telling her. She had no one else like Maroku. He was everything to her. Dianna was so lost in thought she didn’t hear the footsteps approaching.

“Dianna?” Maroku called. She was pulled back to reality. “Dianna I know you’re up there,” he called.

He stood at the base of the tree and while Maroku couldn’t see her hiding above him, he knew she was there. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you Dianna. I just… I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to make you sad.”
“Well thank you for being so considerate,” a voice from the trees replied sarcastically.

“Dianna I’m sorry. Please don’t let it end like this.” He asked her whole-heartedly. “I didn’t want to tell you because I thought if I didn’t tell anybody it wouldn’t be real.”

There was a brief silence and then a ruffling of the branches. Soon after, Dianna leaped down from the tree and looked point blank at Maroku with stubborn eyes. She was trying very hard to put on a strong face. It wasn’t affective considering her blood-shot eyes.

“This isn’t fair,” she stated calmly.

“I know, it stinks.” Maroku agreed. They both sat against the trunk of the sakura tree and looked up into its branches.

“Am I ever going to see you again?” Dianna asked. She was level headed and trying to stay that way.

“Maroku looked at her. “Of course we will.” He said it with absolute certainty but Dianna was doubtful.

“Listen,” he tried to convince her. “This can’t be how it ends.”

“Why not?” Dianna asked trying to stay strong.

“I will come back Dianna. I promise.” He rolled around the trunk and grabbed her hand. He held it up to their initials carved into the tree. “I swear on this tree, our tree, that I will come back for you and we’ll be together again.” He looked her in the eyes. “Wait for me.”

He had made the strongest promise either of them could ever imagine. A few days later he was gone. Dianna went back to the sakura tree about the time he would have been on the plane. There, tied to the trunk was a little note. “I will come back,” it read.

She hadn’t had the courage to say it before he left, but Dianna had wanted to tell Maroku something that day. She just couldn’t after hearing he was leaving. She had figured it out a while before hand that she loved him.

It was more then a stupid schoolgirl’s crush like the ones she had for other boys, but she never had the courage to tell him. The few months after he left, Dianna went to the tree everyday just to feel close to him. The first week he was gone was like a strap on her heart getting tighter and tighter with each breath until she was suffocating.

It hadn’t occurred to her just how much she cared about him as kids. When she did figure it out, he was gone. He never knew she secretly wanted more then the friendship they shared. Dianna considered dating other people since Maroku left but despite how she liked them, nobody could compare to Maroku.

Now fate was giving her a second chance. Maroku was coming back and they could be together like she dreamed. Their meeting played over a thousand times in her head. She created a vast variety of scenarios about the whole thing.

Maroku would walk up to her by the tree and he’d look deed into her eyes. Then he’d whisper gently “How beautiful you’ve become. The years have been kind to you.” He would look exactly the same only a little taller. Then he’d pull her close and hug her with the utmost care and then rest his chin on her head.

“I love you,” Dianna would whisper weakly.

Then Maroku would reply, “I know.” Then lightly kiss her.

Dianna blushed a little. That one was a little farfetched. For one thing, Maroku didn’t talk like that. Then again, maybe being in France changed how he talked. Or maybe …

Maroku would come up to the sakura tree and stare at the branches and flowers for a minute then he’d see her sitting there. He would be good-looking and very grown up. When he noticed her sitting there he’d look at her but not recognize she was Dianna.

He’d point up at the tree and say “Somebody I use to know use to play with me here.” He’d talk longingly about Dianna like she was a phantom. After he was done, Dianna would stand up. “She waited a really long time for you to come back too.” She would say. Then he’d look at her for a moment and his eyes would shake. “Dianna?” He would ask, seeing her in a new light.

“How have you been Maroku?” She’d ask all innocent like.

There was no doubt in her mind that their reunion had to be under the sakura tree. That wasn’t the problem. What bothered her was Dianna didn’t know how to address him after all this time. At first, she and Maroku sent letters back and forth but as time progressed, letters came less and less. They both blamed it on their busy lives but six months had separated his most recent letter from the others.

Overhead, a helicopter interrupted the quiet of the afternoon. It’s blades echoes through the air and Dianna looked up. “I wonder when Maroku’s plane gets in.” It’s vibrating sound waves beat through the air like Dianna’s heart in her chest. The thoughts of just throwing herself into his arms were almost enough to make her heart jump. But not all of her thoughts were pleasant ones. What if he didn’t feel the way she did? He wrote her those letters so he would come but what if everything wasn’t as picturesque as she imagined?

What if he came but he was a completely different person who no longer thought of her that way. France could have corrupted him and turned him cold. For all she knew, he would be a stranger to her.

She would see him coming across the field and run out to meet him with a warm and loving smile but he’d just look at her like she was a child. “What are you doing?” He’d ask in a rude French tone. His eyes wouldn’t have that hypnotic stare and he’d be distant and unattached.

“It’s just, I’m so happy to see you.” Dianna would explain but Maroku would brush her off and tell her to grow up. Then he’d look at the tree and say, “Wow, it’s still here. Can’t believe I wasted so much time lounging around here.”

Then he’d leave.

She shivered at that thought. He may come back to the tree as some rebel delinquent with pricings everywhere and a bad attitude. Or he could have a girlfriend in France that was waiting for him. Maybe he was just coming back to visit and really say goodbye so he could move on with a clear conscious.

The two images of a jerk and a French girlfriend loomed over Dianna like ghosts and she wasn’t sure which image frightened her more.

Her heart ached to be with him and now she was so close that it hurt. She wanted to tell him how she felt. She wanted him to know she was waiting for him. There were plenty of guys who asked her out during the school year that she respectfully turned down because she was waiting for him. It was love and she wanted to share it with him. But what if he didn’t feel the same way?

He would come up to the tree and see her right away. Immediately, he would smile and they’d run to each other and hug like old friends. Then they’d talk about his stay in France and her Japanese high school. Then the two would reminisce about old times and how they missed each other so much. Finally Dianna would turn to him and say, “It was torture not having you here with me Maroku.”

He would nod too, “Yeah, it was hard not having you in France too.”
“I really missed you.” She’d then get really nervous, “I always wished I could have told you something,” and just blurt out, “I love you Maroku.”
She’d wait for a moment before looking at him and then shoot a glance his way. When she’d look he would have this stunned look on his face. After a brief recovery he’d put some distance between them and then stutter. “Oh, wow, um… listen Dianna,” he’d rub the back of his neck and look away. “I’m sorry, I just don’t feel that way about you. You’re my best friends.”

Dianna almost preferred him being a jerk then thinking of her as only a friend. With the scenarios racing through her head, Dianna tried to think about what she’d say when she saw him. It didn’t matter what happened if she couldn’t even start the conversation. So she practiced.

“Hi,” She smiled with a childish wave. That looked dumb.

“S’up?” She tried a more relaxed approach.

“Hey there,”

“Long time, no see.”

“You look good Maroku.”

“Hey. Heyyyy. Hey there. Hello.” She tried a bunch of different combinations and all of them sounded stupid. She tried being extremely polite and formal and then slouched to the common greeting. Nothing sounded right.

She sighed and fell against the tree. “It shouldn’t be this hard.” Her mind was racing. She was even starting to wonder if she should tell him how she felt at all. It might be easier to simply let it go. A cherry blossom fell from the tree and landed on her leg. She picked it up. The flower had a lot of tiny petals. She started to pick each petal off one at a time.

“I tell him, I don’t tell him, I tell him.” With each pluck of a petal her destiny swayed like a metronome. Eventually, the last pedal stood alone on the stem. “I tell him,” she held the flower up. Did she have to tell him the truth? If she didn’t tell him it wouldn’t be like lying; would it?

When they were eight, Maroku had lied to her once. He had been playing with this other boy at school and Dianna walked up, “Can I play?” she asked. The little brat stuck out his tongue at her. Maroku looked at him for a moment and then Dianna. The little boy only snarled and laughed. “Girls have cuddies. They’re stupid heads.” He then looked at Maroku. “Right?”

Maroku looked at Dianna then the little kid again. “Yeah!” He agreed and laughed. Then the two ran off to play by themselves, leaving Dianna alone. Later that day she was at the sakura tree playing dolls when Maroku came up. At first she was cold toward him and ignored anything he said.

“Dianna?” He asked in a pitiful tone. “I’m sorry I said you had cuddies. I know you don’t.”

She broke her silence for one second. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are friends,” Maroku reassured her. “I just said that cause Chintsu said it. But I’m still your friend. Even if I say mean things like that, I don’t mean them.”

“Then why did you say them?” Dianna asked, braking her silence again.

“I still wanna play with you. It’s just that if I’m nice at school Chintsu will make fun of me. We can still play here.”

“NO!” Dianna was very firm. “Either all the time or not at all,” she commanded. “Friends shouldn’t have to pretend with each other. If you want to be my friend then you have to be nice at school too.”
Maroku didn’t know how to respond to this. He looked around and pondered over it. “I’m sorry,” he eventually said. “Will you be my friend Dianna?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “We’re the best kind of friends. Lets promise always to be honest with each other and about how we feel. Deal?”

“Deal.” Maroku shook her hand on it. “We’ll never lie to each other ever again.”

That was one of their biggest promises. Dianna had all but forgotten it. They promised each other to always be truthful. Thinking back, that was the first promise the two made each other. It was the promise that all other promises were made on. That meant not telling him how she felt would violate everything that their friendship was about.

She had to tell him the truth, and the truth was she loved him. She loved him so much that nothing in the world could be better than the feeling inside her right now. She was going to tell him and if he didn’t feel the same way then oh well. At the very least, she could say she kept their promise. Because no matter what happened, will happen or hasn’t happened yet, they would always be friends.

The day was growing late. Dianna hadn’t realized how long she’d sat there. She stood up and patted the dirt from her skirt. Across the field a person started walking toward the tree. The sun was behind whoever it was so all Dianna could see was the outline of the person. It came closer and closer. She stood there and waited.

Finally, the being came into the shade of the sakura tree and his face was revealed. He was not the same as before, but Dianna recognized Maroku in an instant. His child-like round face had formed into a strong and proud chin. A blue ring dangled from his left ear. His scrawny arms were now replaced with broad shoulder and carved out muscles.

He was taller and lean in figure, but his eyes were the same. His dark, hypnotizing eyes were as inspiring as they’d ever been. They burned with his familiar intensity of confidence and strength.

“Hey,” he smiled in a way only a dear friend could smile.

“Hey,” Dianna replied.

They stared at each other under the sakura tree as its petals rained down around them in the last rays of the setting sun.