BELLFLOWERS

The first time she met her was on that forest; that twelve-year-old girl who came to his aid. That was the day she came to know her name.

"Hana"

Though he left without notice after his injuries fully healed, he still watched over her from afar. Every after three years, he would return to her village. After the day she helped him, he never showed his face to her again. Was it because he was the enemy and it will be dangerous for her to be spotted making friends with him? After all, she too has a life and he doesn't want to take that away from her.

So there he was in his usual spot every after three years, near the forest, just in the branches of a tree where he could look at her from afar. He would always be there and he would watch her grow.

He knew that when she turned thirteen, her parents died. He watched from afar when she wept. He watched when her once lively eyes turned pale and she nearly lost hope to live on. He watched when she had to take care of her younger sister- the only family left to her. He watched as she tried to forget her grief by taking three roles to her little sister – mother, father and older sister. He watched as she suppressed her sadness and her emotions so she can be strong for someone else.

He watched from afar during all that and couldn't bring himself to go near her. He hated that decision he made every time he saw her suffer. He regretted it now. He regretted the fear he felt for her then, when he was about to run to her, fear that people would see her with him, an enemy and fear that she would be in deep trouble because of it. He never knew it then but he already fell for her. He already was sympathizing for her. He already had tried to understand humans, his enemies. He failed to notice it then but he was denying his feelings for a very long time.

He watched as the little flower bloomed. After seeing her lost her family, he left. One day, when dawn came and the little girl woke up, she spotted bellflowers left at her doorstep. They were purple in color and looked like they have been freshly picked by someone. "But who could've left it?" she asked herself. Bellflowers are her favorite and so are her mother's. Who could possibly know such a personal fact about her? But her curiosity is very shrouded by grief. It's been two months since her parents died and her sister had just turned six years old. "If only they were alive," she thought, she could've given them to her mother. That was the first of the visits and that was the first of the flowers in her doorstep.

When she turned sixteen, he came back on that same usual spot. On that same tree that is tall enough for him to watch. He expected the flower to have grown. When he arrived, he spotted the flower's little sister who had already turned nine years old. But the flower he was looking for is nowhere in the village. He later learned that she has gone elsewhere. To her training in the mountains, there in the temple where she was taken to be a priestess.

He watched again. He went to where she was at to visit. He did the same thing. Look after her. Watch. See if she's alright. Ensure her safety and watch. Day after day, he watched. He knew then that the girl she met at the forest that day had died. For the girl had lost the sparkle in her eyes and there were no longer joy in her face. Her smiles were gentle but somehow they're sad. Yes, she's breathing and is very much alive but her heart was not there. She is suffering and he noticed it. Those cold and pale black eyes that lost their luster. She lost a part of herself when she lost her parents. And now she's losing bits of herself to that consuming sadness she has hidden deep within.

On that temple. At dawn, when she woke up again. She found strange bellflowers near the temple quarters where the priestesses slept. They were laid down carefully and are freshly picked. She recognized them and took them in her hands. Then she ran. She ran as fast as she could in hopes to find whoever it is that left those flowers. She didn't forget. She recognized the bellflowers three years ago and they're here again. "Who was it?," she asked herself. Who brought her the flowers she so loved?

In the mist of the mountains, she failed to find him. But he was there, watching again as she tried to look for someone. Does she maybe remember their first meeting? Maybe not but he felt a faint feeling of joy knowing that she recognized the flowers, seeing her genuine smile spark bright again even for a second's time. He knew her mother's favorite were the purple bellflowers. He heard her speak on her parent's grave the day they died. He overhead the bellflowers. How she loved them and how her mother loved them as well and how she loved them very much and hope that in the afterlife, they get to live happily as always.

And that was the second of the visits. The second of the flowers.

When he returned after three years, the flower had withered. All those years. Every after three years, he told himself, he shall go and see her or at least watch how she's doing. He will always live. He'd remain young and alive for thousands of years but she will not. So no matter how strong his feelings were to meet her again or to show himself to her again, he just cannot. Because he was afraid. Afraid that the more he gets attached to her; the more their paths would meet, he might not be able to take it when they would diverge. If he met her and she met him, he would not be able to take the pain if she left the world first before him.

So he suppressed himself. He told himself not to care. And so despite his heart's longing to care for her, he hid them in a stiff, cold face that he himself has mustered. After three years since the second visit, he went back to the village. She might have been a priestess already and she would've chosen to be the guardian of the place where she herself has grown. But when he returned, the flower had withered. She's already dead. And there was no Hana to give flowers to anymore because now she lay cold in her grave.

Now, he finally came face to face with her. Finally, their paths, which he so feared would converge has met once again. But what he faced now is her dead body buried in the ground. Before him is the flower which he so genuinely loved and cared for, the only person he so much adored. But she's already dead.

"I couldn't protect you," he whispered as he knelt before her grave and with a heavy howl, he watered the Earth with waters of tears. His usual emotionless and stricken face now outpoured a face of pain, deep sadness and agony as he grieved heavily with a broken heart.

That was the third of the visits. And the third of the flowers he gave her were carefully laid down on her grave.