March 23, 2008 flash fictionCherry blossoms perfume the air, decorating it with the fall of their petals. I stand before her, my katana soiled with the blood of her enemies. Her rescued family is my wedding offering.
I have read the tales of heroes. I fashioned my armor, my habits, my life in imitation of them. I completed their trials, their feats. I am the greatest of them.
I smile at her. I have read the tales of heroes, and I know how this will end.
She turns, walking away under the cherry blossoms.
As in all the tales of heroes, a nightingale sings.