Sakuran Tears

Chapter 1

Light splashed unevenly on the ground through the gaps of the barred window. Unnatural opaque eldritch-like walls stretched for miles, icy blue eyes belonging to a snow-white head, scanned the room in a parallel manner.

The boy wondered — was it a fool's gambit to hope, to dream of a better life, he had heard tales from the orphans of a world not so dark– if one could live with the constant threats of invasion from an alien species and their cultist collaborators– He looked down briefly to his tattered clothes, its yoke reddened by bloodstains. Then he turned to the wall, noticing the innumerable tallies laden within a few meters.

How many days has it been, to be honest, it gets a lot harder after the triple digits — 1063, no 1097. what life had been stolen away from him? Was it one that he'd regret ignorance towards?

"Hiba, you haven't eaten, have mine, it's still warm."

He looked at Hiba, idealistic as ever — he smiled at his brother, inching his soup toward him.

Hiba opened the wooden bowl with a shaky hand, taking a spoonful of the warm broth. It made his mouth watery as he ate the contents of the bowl, licking his lips afterward before looking up at Nagasaki who was watching him intently. His pale brows were slightly furrowed, making his small nose appear more prominent than usual.

"Why do you look so worried?" He asked, handing him back his bowl.

"You're still weak, your fever hasn't gone down yet." Nagasaki replied, leaning forward to get a closer look at his face.

Hiba shook his head, waving him away.

"It's fine, really." He said, trying to avoid eye contact. "I'm just tired."

Nagasaki sighed, his expression softening.

"That's no good," Nagasaki added quietly, averting his gaze. This wasn't how siblings acted together-it felt ... unnatural and almost jarring to witness when he'd lived his entire young childhood growing into a teen surrounded entirely by orphans under the same grueling circumstances as he.

"...But it probably isn't too late... for the Kansen to save us." Hiba stated. Nagasaki stared at him blankly as he raised an eyebrow meaningfully — Hiba shrugged internally without explaining himself any further, though, recalling exactly what prompted those words of sympathy in the first place. For some reason — a lackadaisical explanation coming to mind, even in retrospect, that seemed ludicrous based purely upon observed fact or rationality.

Ships. Ships crashed every day, lost from navigation despite perfect visibility with precise knowledge regarding position. Lifeboats were launched and liferafts deployed, but inevitably, it often wasn't enough, either due to malfunction or improper use-something that's happening right here in the present.

This, however, went out the window with mirror seas. If one went in, it was essentially crossing the rubicon line. You may be suddenly met with a rough shore, deadly seaquakes, or even a typhoon. And say that by some god-sent miracle it ceased to exist. The prison was hidden very well, say, for a few crevices and recon drones that passed by. The only way anyone would find out about it was if the Sirens handed the information to them on a silver platter.

There weren't many ways to get here. After all, they were essentially cornered by mirror seas. Nagasaki could only fall upon one point, they knew the odds, and if everything else failed ... If Azur Lane couldn't save them, that's what being a true brother meant– giving all the comfort you can muster until, eventually, whatever awaited passed along with the stars themselves

Unbeknownst to the two, however, fate had other plans in store.

***

Riggings surfed against the angry white foam of the Pacific. The once golden Sakura blossom was now tainted with macroalgae and coral — the blue kimono surrounding it, however, was fine for the most part, say, for a few minor tears.