(A/n: I recommend to read it while listen to Yae Sakura Double cherry blossoms)
Mizuki approached the shrine slowly, each step guided by an uneasy instinct.
Something about it felt off.
She turned her head slowly, scanning the space. Trees swayed gently in the breeze, cherry blossoms floating through the air like memory fragments. Lanterns hung from wooden beams, unlit. The shrine stood in the distance—old, beautiful, and hauntingly pristine. Despite its outward serenity, Mizuki's intuition told her this wasn't the same space that held Kallen's nightmare. No anguish clung to the earth here. No echoing cries. No choking void.
In fact, if Mizuki had to compare it to the real world, it was nearly identical—only… emptier. As if the world had been painted on rather than lived in.
A dream, she thought. Maybe even a happy one… or the remnants of one.
She took another step.
A faint sound—footsteps—echoed from behind a paper screen near the shrine entrance.
Mizuki turned.
A woman emerged, her movement as fluid as drifting silk. She wore the robes of a shrine maiden, but the details were too intricate, too deliberate. Crimson shimenawa ropes coiled around her waist, and a stylized Inari fox mask hung loosely at her hip. Long, pink hair flowed down her back, swaying with her steps. What struck Mizuki most, however, were her ears—long and upright, not human.
Mizuki blinked.
Donkey ears? No… fox ears? Some kind of yokai?
The woman's gaze met Mizuki's, sharp and composed. She tilted her head ever so slightly, sensing the scrutiny.
"Outsider," she said, her voice calm yet commanding, "what is your purpose here at Yae Shrine?"
Mizuki hesitated.
If this woman was only part of Kallen's dream… why did she feel so aware?
"I… I'm sorry for coming unannounced," Mizuki replied, her tone respectful. "I'm looking for someone."
The shrine maiden held Mizuki's gaze for a moment longer, then gave a small, knowing nod. "If that's the case, I believe you may be in the wrong place."
She turned, walking toward the main hall of the shrine, her footsteps whispering across the stone path.
"But," she added, without turning around, "you're welcome to look."
Mizuki exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
"Thank you… and—I apologize for not introducing myself sooner. I'm Yumemizuki Mizuki."
The woman stopped, then turned her head just enough to speak over her shoulder.
"I am Yae Sakura."
Yae…?
Mizuki narrowed her eyes. Now that she could see her more clearly, there was something oddly familiar—her name, her presence… even the way she carried herself. It stirred a memory, faint but persistent. Almost like someone she'd know.
Before she could inquire further, a streak of pale light zipped toward the shrine maiden.
"Sister!" a youthful voice cried out.
A small figure flung herself into Sakura's arms—a fox-like spirit no larger than a plush doll, her tails flicking excitedly.
Yae Sakura caught the spirit mid-air and cradled her gently.
"You're awake, Rin," she said with a soft smile.
With a brief puff of spectral light, the spirit shimmered and transformed into the form of a young girl—perhaps fourteen years old—still with fox-like features and a glimmering aura.
"Yes, sister," Rin murmured, pressing her face into Sakura's robes, eyes still half-drowsy.
Mizuki watched in silence, absorbing the gentle scene.
So… they were sisters.
Rin glanced up and noticed the unfamiliar face beyond the shrine gate. "Sister, who's that?"
Sakura turned her eyes toward Mizuki. "She's an outsider. She's searching for someone."
Rin stared for a moment longer, her eyes curious but not hostile.
"If you don't mind…" Yae Sakura said, turning back to Mizuki, "would you like some tea? You seem like someone in need of rest."
Mizuki blinked in surprise, then offered a faint smile of agreement.
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The scent of warm tea wafted softly through the air, mingling with the faint perfume of aged tatami mats. Mizuki sat cross-legged, the delicate porcelain cup warming her palms. Across from her, Yae Sakura mirrored her pose with a composed grace, her own tea untouched for the moment.
They sat in silence for a while, the quiet of the shrine deep and comforting—like a pocket of stillness preserved in a dream.
"The last outsider who came to this place…" Yae Sakura spoke at last, her voice distant, touched by memory. "It was a long, long time ago. So I fear the one you're looking for might not be here."
Mizuki glanced up. "If you don't mind… could you tell me who that outsider was?"
A faint smile curved Sakura's lips, though her gaze turned inward, chasing a moment long buried in time.
"She was a knight. From across the sea. Brave. Foolish. Endlessly kind." Her voice softened. "She looked at me not with fear, not with suspicion or disgust—but with compassion. As if she saw through all the darkness that clung to me, and believed there was still a light worth saving."
She paused, the memories clearly vivid.
"Her smile… I still remember it. Like sunlight filtering through sakura petals. It was warm. Gentle. The kind of smile that makes you believe the world might still be beautiful, even after everything you've lost."
Mizuki, watching her, couldn't help but feel the weight in her words. This woman loved her, she thought. It wasn't difficult to see.
"Do you mind telling me her name?" Mizuki asked gently.
Yae Sakura's expression brightened faintly, touched by something fragile and reverent.
"Her name? Her name was Kallen…"
Mizuki blinked.
"Kallen Kaslana?"
At the mention of the full name, Yae Sakura stilled. Her eyes sharpened, narrowing with sudden caution. Her hand moved subtly to the side, reaching for something out of Mizuki's view.
"How do you know that name?" Sakura asked, voice tight, eyes like a blade drawn halfway from its sheath.
Mizuki quickly raised both hands, signaling peace. "She's the one I'm searching for," she said calmly. "I don't mean any harm."
Sakura's grip loosened, the tension in her shoulders slowly fading.
"…What is she to you?" Mizuki asked.
Sakura didn't answer immediately. She lowered her gaze to her tea, as if looking into it might give her the strength to say what needed to be said.
"She was… my everything," Sakura finally said.
Her voice barely rose above a whisper.
"Back then, I was drowning. In hatred. In guilt. In the blood I'd spilled with my own hands. I thought I was a monster—unworthy of warmth, of forgiveness… of life itself."
She inhaled slowly, exhaling like it hurt.
"But she gave me hope. Not through words alone, but through action. She stood up against injustice, even when it cost her everything. She fought for others… and she fought for me, even when I no longer knew how to fight for myself."
"She stayed."
Her hands trembled slightly as she set the tea cup down.
"And I—" Her voice broke. "I wasn't there when she needed me most. I should've been at her side. I should've saved her… like she once saved me."
She closed her eyes.
"They took her. The very people she tried to protect turned on her. And I could do nothing. Nothing but watch as the only light left in my life was stolen."
A long, aching silence settled between them.
Even Mizuki didn't speak. Some griefs were too sacred to interrupt.
"…Even now," Sakura continued, her voice steadier, "after centuries have passed, I remember her. Her voice. Her ideals. Her unshakable courage."
She looked up at Mizuki, and in that moment, her expression softened—not with sorrow, but with pride.
"I still walk the path she showed me. Every life I protect, every injustice I stand against… I do it because she once showed me what it means to care. What it means to love."
A faint smile flickered at the corner of her lips.
"She wasn't just my savior. She was my heart. My guiding star. If this world still holds even a sliver of her warmth… then maybe it's still a world worth protecting."
"So… if you want to find her," Sakura began, then stopped herself with a quiet shake of her head. Her expression shifted—serious, searching.
"Then may I ask you something?" she said.
Mizuki gave a calm nod. "Of course."
"What is your relationship with her?" Sakura's eyes narrowed slightly, gauging every twitch in Mizuki's face, every hesitation in her voice.
Mizuki didn't flinch. "She was one of my clients."
Sakura stared for a few moments longer, then slowly relaxed. Mizuki's words bore no trace of deception—only professionalism, and perhaps a thread of concern. But there was no closeness. No history.
"I see," Sakura said, voice quiet. "Then… I'm sorry to say this, but you won't find her anymore."
Her gaze dropped, shoulders slumping slightly. There was something final in the way she said it—too heavy for mere doubt. Too raw for indifference.
Mizuki watched her carefully. The more she spoke with Sakura, the more surreal this entire encounter felt. The woman across from her wasn't some imagined fragment of a dying dream. She felt real. Her grief was too genuine to be fabricated.
"…Why?" Mizuki finally asked.
Sakura bit her lower lip, the pain flashing in her eyes as if reopening a centuries-old wound. "Because… she passed away. Long ago."
She stood abruptly, turning away. "I'm sorry. I… I need some time alone."
Mizuki didn't stop her right away. She sat in silence, processing the weight of those words.
Dead…?
She remembered Kallen's words—the way she had smiled, so faintly, and said she didn't deserve to live. She remembered Sakura's grief. The scenery. The space. None of it matched Teyvat.
No. That's when the pieces clicked.
This wasn't a vision of Kallen memory in Teyvart.
Kallen didn't belong to this world at all.
"…She's from outside Teyvat," Mizuki whispered.
It made sense now. The inconsistencies. The dreamlike qualities. The guilt. The fractures in memory. Mizuki stood, a sense of urgency propelling her forward.
"Sakura—wait!"
The pink-haired woman kept walking, her pace quick, her sorrow still heavy in her footsteps.
"I need to tell you something important!" Mizuki called out.
No response.
"It's about Kallen."
That stopped her.
Sakura turned, slowly, cautiously. Her expression remained guarded, but behind her eyes there flickered something else—hope.
"…She's alive," Mizuki said, voice steady.
Sakura's eyes widened.
"That's not possible," she whispered. "I heard it myself. From her descendants… they told me she died."
"Please," Mizuki said gently, stepping closer. "I know how it sounds. But I'm not asking you to believe me yet. Just… hear me out."
Sakura hesitated. Her lips trembled slightly, and her fingers curled at her sides.
"…It doesn't hurt to hear a lie," she said at last, "If for just a moment I can imagine she's still out there."
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Somewhere else...
Kallen's eyes fluttered open.
The world around her was no longer dreamlike serenity—but chaos.
Her wrists were bound, her body bruised. Two hooded figures dragged her roughly forward toward a raised platform. She struggled to lift her gaze—and saw them.
Crowds. Masses of angry people, their faces twisted in rage, judgment, fear.
Tomatoes, spoiled fruit, and rocks flew through the air, some striking her shoulders, one landing square against her head.
"Give me back my daughter, you bastard!"
"Because of you, my family's gone!"
The words struck deeper than the projectiles ever could. Kallen stumbled forward under the weight of it all—grief, regret, and guilt crashing down on her.
She didn't fight back.
She couldn't.
Maybe this is what I deserve, she thought bitterly. If only I'd been stronger…
If only I'd made the right choice.
Blood trickled from her forehead, the coppery taste of shame thick on her tongue The platform loomed closer—a nightmare made real, a place steeped in fear… or perhaps, a place to finally let it all end and find rest in death. This would be her end.
Her knees buckled as she was dragged up. The noose was already prepared.
She barely heard the murmurs now.
Just one name echoed in her mind.
"…Sakura," she whispered, eyes brimming. "I'm sorry."
Her vision blurred. Her breath trembled.
Father… I couldn't live up to the Kaslana name.
The trapdoor creaked beneath her. The world fell away.
And just before the darkness took her, a memory—soft and warm—rose to the surface.
Sakura's hands over hers, shaping onigiri beneath a cherry tree.
"One day, when the world is kind again… let's make this together, alright?"
The platform dropped.
(A/n: My friend said it's still not enough—that it's just gloomy... I will try again later)