Dev Shadows of Atrisia

[Junko Ike]

The path descended gradually, steps carved directly into living rock and worn smooth by centuries of careful feet. Overhead, the canopy thickened ancient banyans giving way to groves of perpetual cherry trees whose branches arched in graceful vaults, heavy with blossoms that never fully fell. Unlike ordinary sakura, these trees bloomed year-round, petals cycling in soft waves of pink and white so that some branches always carried full flower while others bore the delicate green of new leaves. Sunlight filtered through in pale rose-gold shafts, painting the ground in shifting patterns that danced across Junko's bare feet and the hem of her silk robe. The air grew cooler here, moist with the breath of hidden springs, and the distant murmur of the main waterfall softened into a steady, soothing whisper.

They emerged at last into her private enclave a secluded hollow cradled between towering red-rock cliffs whose faces were softened by hanging gardens of trailing ivy and cascading orchids. At the center lay the private pool, fed by a single slender cascade that spilled from a cleft high in the stone wall. The water was impossibly clear, its surface a perfect mirror reflecting the perpetual pink canopy above. Year-round cherry trees encircled the pool in a near-perfect ring, their trunks rising straight and silver-gray before spreading into wide crowns that met overhead like a living dome. Petals drifted constantly, some settling on the water to float in lazy spirals, others catching on moss-covered boulders that lined the edges or clinging briefly to the broad leaves of water lilies.

 

[Junko Ike]

Junko paused at the pool's rim, where a single flat ledge of polished granite extended slightly over the water like a natural throne. She slipped the jade robe from her shoulders, folding it carefully and setting it aside on a low stone bench carved to resemble a curled lotus. Beneath she wore only a simple linen shift of palest cream that clung lightly to her slender form, the fabric translucent where mist from the cascade touched it. At five feet two and one hundred ten pounds, her girlish figure moved with quiet grace as she stepped onto the ledge, toes curling over the warm stone. Her light golden skin caught the rose-tinted light, the natural crimson flush of her cheeks deepening slightly in the intimate warmth of this hidden place. Large, lustrous eyes black with shifting flecks of green and blue gazed into the mirrored depths, framed by jade rings and tiny crystals that shimmered like dewdrops.

She lowered herself to sit cross-legged at the ledge's edge, letting her calves dip into the cool water. Ripples spread outward in slow circles, disturbing petals that had collected near the shore and sending them spinning gently. Her coal-black hair, loosened now from its earlier updo, fell in loose waves over her shoulders; the mood-responsive oils within caused the strands to lighten toward soft chestnut as profound calm settled over her. Force beads threaded through the waves dangled forward, brushing her forehead and catching stray glints of pink light like tiny lanterns. She breathed deeply, drawing in the mingled scents of cherry blossom, wet stone, and faint jasmine carried on the mist.

 

[Junko Ike]

Around her the trees stood in silent vigil, their blossoms a perpetual celebration of renewal. Some branches dipped so low their tips trailed in the pool, petals falling directly onto the water's surface to create fleeting islands of pink. Tiny fish silver with iridescent fins darted beneath, occasionally rising to nibble at floating blooms before vanishing again into the depths. The cascade itself was gentle, a thin silver ribbon that struck the pool with barely a sound, yet its steady rhythm provided a heartbeat to the enclave. High above, where the cliffs met open sky, a single hawk circled lazily, its cry distant and solitary.

Junko closed her eyes for a long moment, letting the garden's quiet energy flow through her. Here, far from throne rooms and diplomatic courtyards, no titles or expectations pressed upon her. The perpetual cherry trees reminded her of resilience of beauty that endured regardless of season or siege. Memories of Atrisia flickered briefly the smoke, the clash of steel, the choice her war wife had made but they dissolved like mist in sunlight, replaced by the simple sensation of cool water against skin and petals brushing her arms.