Work Text:
Lumine held her cup up. The light shone through the sake; hope floated in an acidic memory. Over five hundred years old, it captured time in a bottle, imbuing the liquid with dreams come to fruition and wishes laid waste.
The first sip coated her tongue with the bitterness of sorrow, a past riddled with defeat. The second brought the sweetness of sakuras, a vision of spring and the future. The third merged the flavors into the present.
“Goodbye, Makoto.” Tipping the bottle over, she poured the sake into the roots of the Sacred Sakura—her friend’s final wish realized.