Chương 21: A Lamentation of Petals & Memory in 'Cherry Blossoms, Cherry Blossoms' — Final Part

As the song's final note faded, Galan severed the connection. The dark sea of memories gave way to the warm, dim light of the theater and the sound of quiet sobbing. He glanced over at Masahiko, who was staring intently at the stage, his usual composure tempered by the weight of the moment. He was a man bearing witness to a sorrow he had been fortunate enough to never know firsthand. The shamisen fell silent.

A new spotlight bloomed at the center of the stage, revealing a singer draped in a gold-white, twelve-layered robe. Her sweet, motherly voice rose, taking the place of the strings. Sakura, sakura Yayoi no sora wa Then, as Galan listened to the meaning brought over by his mindcast, the song continued in Godlang.

Stretch as far as the eye can see The shamisen returned, all while the spotlights revealed the other musicians: a hand drummer whose heavy beat gave the song weight and a shrine maiden whose sharp claps punctuated the melody. Is it mist? Is it clouds? They're releasing their fragrance Come, come Let's go see them As her voice faded, a flute player took the lead, the long, measured notes a calming balm that soothed the audience's raw sorrow. Galan watched the emotions wash over the crowd.

Some wept freely, undone by the music. Others sat motionless, lost in contemplation. He glanced over at Sho, whose wife was nursing their sleeping daughter, her own eyes glassy with unshed tears. Two sections over, Kazue was crying, her shoulders shaking as a stranger next to her offered a comforting hand. Galan's mindcast brushed against her grief and found the source: a younger brother, lost in the Izumo-Yamato war.

A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. The singer's voice returned, now weaving seamlessly with all four instruments. Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms Falling upon everything Leaving their branches Fleetingly, swaying Forget your sorrow Now they are here Listen to their song The song began to loop again, and this time, the entire front row joined in. Paid singers, Galan realized with a flicker of amusement, his mindcast confirming his suspicion.

They were there to guide the audience's grief into a shared chorus. Soon, other voices in the crowd joined in, hesitant at first, then growing stronger. Cherry blossoms, cherry blossoms Upon the spring wind Painting the village Into those hands, those homes Receiving warmth Behold, behold They shall be protected The song came to an end with a long, lingering note from the singer. For a moment, there was silence.

Then, the hall erupted in applause, cheers, and whistles, the sound lighter now, cleansed of its earlier grief. The singer waited for the applause to settle before speaking.

"Thank you so much, everyone," she said, her voice warm.

"Today, we sang not just to welcome spring but also to honor those who are no longer with us. Their absence is felt, and their memory lingers."

"But even in sorrow," she resumed with a melancholic tone.

"We must remember that they would want us to live, to smile, and to find warmth in one another. May their spirits find peace, and may you all find strength in the days ahead. From the bottom of our hearts, thank you for listening." The musicians bowed deeply once more as the crowd roared its approval, their sorrow replaced by a newfound sense of peace. The curtain rolled shut, and the lights brightened.

"That was a wonderful debut of Amaterasu Oomikami's new song. We at the Soaring Heights Theater wish for the best in the musicians' musical careers. Now, we will take a ten-minute break to prepare for the next performance and to give you, our esteemed guests, time to enjoy the meals we have prepared." She continued after taking a breath.

"If your food has not arrived by the end of the break, rest assured that our kitchen staff are working diligently and that your orders will be prioritized for the next interval. Thank you, and may you enjoy the rest of your afternoon."