Tsubaki Nara didn't know why things happened, only that they did. Thrust in the middle of political power struggles, agonizing conflictions of the heart, and discovery of world-shattering revelations, Tsubaki must learn for herself where she belongs...
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TSUBAKI'S POINT OF VIEW
The snow has stopped falling since the festival. The white mounds once packing the front yard are beginning to melt, making room for tufts of green grass to sprout. Cold winds still passed through, forcing many in Konoha to have to wear baggy sweaters and long scarves for a bit longer, but no one seemed to mind the crisp breeze. My entire room felt like an icebox with every window and door open, creating a highway of shivers. Before spring came in, Mom thought it perfect timing to air out the house, and allow for it to breathe one last breath of the old year.
She had everyone in the family working hard. Dad was in charge with the heavy lifting, moving around shelves and desks wherever his wife ordered them to be replaced. Meanwhile, Shikamaru and I got stuck with cleaning the rooms. My job was supposed to be airing out the futons. But when I saw signs of the stout tsubaki tree in our backyard beginning to bud, a sheen of ice encapsulating each little bulb like a clear protective coat, I couldn't stop myself from risking a moment to stare.
They are always so lovely. Sometimes they came out as a red dawn, other times their petals remained soft white with only a hint of a blush dusting its center. Mom said the tree has been part of the Shikaku estate for some time. Long agi, when the village was still young, there had been a patch found growing at the top of the Valley of the End. It withstood billowing winters, dry falls, and sweltering summers. Because of its endurance, the tsubaki growing at that Valley became part of a myth. It is said that if you take a branch, and it grows, your family will be blessed with longevity and a prosperous health.
It was a pretty story. One that I enjoyed thinking about. But for some reason, staring at it made my chest ache in an unexplainable way. Maybe it is not the flowers that were weighing down on me. It was perhaps the events that had happened at the festival. Much of what occurred still feels unreal. Almost as if I were simply watching a movie every time I went to bed at night, running it over in my head, trying to make sense of it all.
Something suddenly taps me from behind, causing me to jump slightly. I lean my head back, flinching when the warm bottom of a cup is placed on my forehead, prominently obscuring my view of Shikamaru. I quickly grab hold of it to avoid having the hot liquid inside from spilling all over me. As I slowly move it down into my lap, Shikamaru takes a seat beside me on the patio, lying down on his back with his legs hanging off the side.
He releases the loudest sigh yet, expressing all of his exhaustion, annoyance, and building boredom. "How much more is the old lady making us clean?"
"Careful she doesn't hear you. Or else you'll be cleaning the gutters next," I warn teasingly, taking a careful sip of the delicious hot cocoa. Shikamaru grunts. "Where is she anyway?"
