#project sakura

   Because spring brought forth with it too many advancements of time’s perpetual march. It would be a brand-new school year, but it would be his first away from his dear friends—Yuga, Romin, Rook, and of course his beloved assistants, Ranze and Rinnosuke. Per the knowledge that later times would become now, Gakuto of course had a plan for the school once he left. He had entrusted Ranze with the position of president that he had left behind;, and he had asked Yuga to fill the vacant vice-president position as Rinnosuke was uninterested in it. He knew that the school would be in good, safe hands with them.

   Leaving them behind was going to be difficult. There were more blues yet still ahead of Gakuto when this snow melted into spring. At the year’s finale, at the last address that he would give to the school, his voice cracked. Even now, Gakuto could feel his face flush with the absolute embarrassment of it.

   He wasn’t ready for all things that would come in the spring, even though he endeavoured to be ready for it and so easily lied to assuage the concerns of his friends and his parents. That everything would be alright. That his studies were going to progress with perfection. In honesty as raw as tree bark splintered with ice, Gakuto was, actually, not ready for all the changes that would ensue in the coming months as he went onto middle school.

   He wasn’t ready for how his voice would crack, nor was he ready for how there would come to be hairs on his chin, of which there were already a few that he felt ashamed of. Gakuto did look forward to meeting new classmates and he knew that his elementary school friends would not be too far behind, but that did little to alleviate the swelling anxieties that he felt.

   From every angle that he looked, it felt like there was immense pressure coming down on him. His friends were counting on him to leave a legacy at the elementary school that was as pristine as snow. The way he went above and beyond expectations was going to be missed; even now as he tried not to freeze whilst having breakfast was proof of that, even in the dead of winter, there was so much to be done and to be of help with.

   Whilst Gakuto was confident that Yuga would not only exceed his expectations and also find a way to incorporate his own uniqueness—such as his Roads—into the role of Goha 6th Elementary Student Council Vice-President, Gakuto worried anyway. He worried that the role might stifle Yuga, for example, or that he might step down prematurely, that some horrid and depressing disaster may happen.

   And then there was the pressure that his parents were putting on him.

   Like a good heir apparent, Gakuto pored over the family history like nothing else. The glorious battles, the shameful mistakes, all and every bit of it as presented in the rich tapestry of time. He had rehearsed roles from successful plays that his ancestors had written and also from the unsuccessful ones. He was taught to see and understand context and the internal workings of playwrighting, not just the steps on stage but going through the motions and crystalising them with kernels of his own, true emotions analogous to the joys and miseries that he was portraying.

   In self-assessment of his own skill as a budding thespian, Gakuto would say that he was better at portraying the former than the latter. He enjoyed the endeavour of trying. Of stepping outside of his usual mindset and following through the actions of a character rather than himself. Some roles he played better than others, others were best forgotten, such as his portrayal of Gakuting, but even the clumsiest of ideas often taught at least a kernel of valuable experience. He could thank Romin for that lesson, specifically, as well.

   But progressing, going forward, meant leaving certain things and certain roles behind. The role of the eldest friend in the group, the role of the student council president, and many others too. Being young afforded him certain allowances and leeway in between roles, though more suited to the stage. Including ones which were entirely unlike his own person, allowing him to peer into different roles, including feminine ones.

   Take the image of the moon, the very one in which had a motif in the family name of Sougetsu: just as there could be a rabbit pounding mochi up there, others have seen the kindly face of a man as well as the beauty of a woman. Fittingly so, actors of the Sougetsu family have often bent interpretations with men playing women, women playing men, and both and neither portraying animal characters too.

   As a child apprentice to acting, it was easy for Gakuto to play any of those roles. From getting down on all fours to impersonate the finicky rabbit to more serious roles of a warrior or a maiden, it was easy. But then his voice just had to crack, didn’t it?

   That was truly the moment that made Gakuto realise that he was not going to be a child for much longer. He had always felt the weighty feeling of responsibility as the lone heir to the Sougetsu name and always felt drawn to leadership positions: he wanted to grow up and grow up quickly, but he wanted to grow up well. To be a well-rounded person, but it was a lot scarier in actuality with how time progressed so swiftly. Just like snowmelt becoming a watery beginning to spring, he supposed.

   Gakuto took a levelling breath, and he reached for his bowl of miso soup. In one fell gulp, he drained the last of it and took little time to savour it as his mind clouded with lukewarm thoughts of what his schedule would be today. There was very little to do, and that was more daunting than a day which was scheduled down to the very last minute. He was letting go more and more of the reins that he had over the school, and though he was eager to help, the impression that he had left on his fellow pupils and underclassmen was that they wanted to make him proud.

   They had watched, and they had learned. For example, they learned to darn holes in soccer balls, but they had also been allured by all sorts of Roads that Yuga was coming up with to help aide in the achievement of having a peaceful and idyllic school life. It was bittersweet, more akin to the pickled plums in Gakuto’s lunchbox of packed rice balls than to the umami flavour of his miso soup he was having with his breakfast.

   And so, Gakuto finished his breakfast. He thanked the staff of his household for his meal and dabbed at his mouth with a napkin most politely as he did so. It was delicious, perfectly reinvigorating in this cold weather, and he got up. He would do his best like he would any other day, even on a schedule which was not that of a middle schooler’s nor that of an enthusiastic elementary school council president but rather that of a thirteen-year-old who would be hanging out with his friends today. He was looking forward to that, even if what laid beyond that—days, weeks, even months—down the track was a bit harrowing for him.

The boy continued quickly, It’s a flower from my home! It doesn’t usually grow here, but I found it in the city, and—

Oh, Yubel breathed, a smile forming around the boy’s name. It’s beautiful.

It’s a promise, the boy corrected them. His other hand joined the first, folding around Yubel’s fingers with the flower at the center. No one’s ever done as much for me as you. I didn’t think it was possible to love that much. But now that I do, I promise, Yubel—I love you, too. I’ll always fight to be with you, like you fought to be with me. You’re my most important person.