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Minho was alone. He was walking with slow, careful steps through the foliage, his eyes and ears focused on his surroundings. Every single noise or movement, no matter how small and insignificant, made him stop and nock an arrow in his gakgung. His Ojang had sent him to track the tiger deep in the mountain in hopes of finding its lair, but so far the beast had been elusive. For days, he'd followed the trail without issue, but after the morning's drizzle, it was as though the tiger had vanished into thin air.
To say Minho was frustrated would be an understatement. He had already been moving for days, and any provisions he had taken with him were nearly exhausted. The least he could do before he was forced to get back to the camp would be to at least figure out where the beast would rest between its hunts. Unfortunately, he was no closer to it now than he was two days ago.
Sighing in an attempt to focus, he crouched through another thicket of bushes and froze once more. There was a new sound that reached his ears this time, one that should be nowhere near this place. From somewhere further ahead, he could hear the soft melody of a song, drifting through the trees as if pulling him closer.
“The blossoms have fallen.”
Minho ducked under a tree branch hanging lower on the ground.
“Spring returns each passing year.”
He hid behind a big rock and peeked over, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
“Yet the footsteps I await,”
He finally left his hiding place and walked closer.
“have forgotten the road to this hill.”
The arrow was once more nocked in his bow.
“Beneath the branches I shall wait,”
Minho could finally see the clearing just a few steps ahead and slightly drew his bow but still held it low.
“until…”
The song ended just as Minho entered the clearing. In the middle of it stood a tree, a cherry tree by the look of it, that was completely bare, despite it already being spring. A quick glance around revealed no fallen blossoms on the ground, suggesting the tree had not bloomed at all.
“Beneath the branches I shall wait,
until…”
Minho’s gaze shifted upwards to the thickest branch of the tree, where a young man was sitting, oblivious to the fact that Minho was standing almost directly beneath him.
“Until what? Why can’t I never remember this part?”
Tilting his head to the side, Minho studied the man more carefully. He was wearing a traditional minbok that looked so old and faded that it was impossible to tell what color it originally was. The paerangi on his head concealed his hair and most of his face, but Minho had already noticed the distress in the young man’s voice. Still, nothing was stranger than him being alone on a mountain that was the known hunting ground of a tiger, perched in a tree as if nothing were wrong, and singing.
Minho wasn’t sure what to make of this peculiar situation. In the end, he decided to just make his presence known.
“Are you lost?”
The young man yelped and looked down at him with wide, dark eyes. He seemed just as surprised to find another person there, but there was also a glint in his eyes, as if he were curious about the newcomer. A moment passed, and the young man didn’t reply, remaining instead completely still on his branch, staring down at Minho. Realizing how threatening the drawn bow must have looked, Minho let the string down and lowered the weapon, hoping it would put the stranger at ease. The young man watched the movement carefully before offering the hunter a bright, heart-shaped smile.
“That’s an interesting weapon you have there. Do you need it for something?”
Minho glanced down at his gakgung before once more turning to the other man.
“I’m a Chakhogapsa. I need it for my hunt.”
The young man blinked a few times before finally nodding.
“I see. You’re after Min-hee, then?”
Minho’s confusion must have been evident in his face, because the man on the tree giggled softly and started swinging his dangling legs slightly.
“The tiger, Min-hee. She rules over this part of the forest.”
Minho was dumbfounded.
“The tiger has a name?”
The young man nodded and looked around him at the trees of the dense forest with a soft smile.
“We all have names. You have a name too. As do I.”
“Then what’s your name?”
There was a short pause before the young man replied, a distant look in his eyes.
“She used to call me ‘Jisung-ah’. I guess that’s my name.”
The reply was phrased in a strange way, as if the younger man weren't really sure about his name. Minho chose to push the weirdness aside and bowed his head slightly.
“Nice to meet you, Jisung-ssi. My name is Lee Minho.”
Jisung stared at him again, studying him as if he really saw him for the first time.
“Lee Minho… A good name.”
The familiar smile was back.
“It suits you!”
Minho couldn’t fight the slight tint that decorated the tips of his ears and looked away, lowering his wide-brimmed military hat a bit to hide behind it. He couldn’t understand why that smile affected him so much.
“Thank you…”
His voice sounded strained, and so he cleared his throat a bit before continuing. He finally asked the question that had been eating at him since he first laid eyes on the younger man singing on a tree.
“Why are you out here on your own? You are aware of the tiger, so you obviously know it’s dangerous.”
Jisung hummed for a while, as if pondering the question, before once again smiling openly.
“I’m waiting.”
“For what?”
“I’m not really sure…”
Another strange answer. The more they spoke, the more questions Jisung seemed to raise. Sitting high among the branches, he looked less like an ordinary man and more like a riddle begging to be solved.
Minho wanted to ask more, but duty called. He had been sent to track the tiger, and his Ojang would not appreciate his returning empty-handed. When he looked up again, he found Jisung watching him, sadness lingering in his big, round eyes.
“You’re leaving, aren’t you?”
The sight made Minho's chest ache, and the quiet sorrow in the young man's voice tightened around his heart with a force that felt almost physical. Without thinking, he pressed a hand against the armor covering his chest, but the pain refused to fade.
“I have to. I have orders to follow.”
He felt Jisung’s eyes trailing over his body again, lingering on every piece of armor he was wearing with a sobering expression. For some reason, they made him look sadder.
“I… understand. Please, be careful. Make sure you come back to me.”
The request came out of nowhere. Under any other circumstances, Minho would have ignored it, but there was so much warmth and hope in the young man's voice that he couldn't. Nodding sharply, as though he had just received an order from his superior, he turned and walked toward the trees. The moment he stepped into the foliage, the melodic voice rose in song once more.
“If the moon remembers your face,”
Minho once more prepared his bow.
“let it shine where you wander.”
He passed the big rock again.
“Mine has forgotten everything,”
And ducked under the lowly hung branch of a tree.
“except how to wait.”
Finally, Minho was back to his hunt. A few feet away, he spotted claw marks carved into the trunk of a tree and slowly made his way toward them. He seemed to be closing in on the tiger's lair.
As he ventured deeper into the forest, though, he realized the song had fallen silent.
❀
Minho limped into the clearing again the next morning, clutching one of his arms close to his torso. He knew he should have returned to his camp instead of coming here, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it all the way there without collapsing.
The encounter with the tiger was short, but none of them got out of it unscathed. When the beast had ambushed him, he managed to fight it off with his swords, but not before it clawed at his thigh and bit his arm. The wounds were bleeding heavily, and he was already feeling lightheaded from the blood loss. It’s what forced him to take a detour and come to the clearing with the barren tree.
That, and the desire to see Jisung again. Even though he was strange, the young man seemed kind and friendly. Minho didn’t have many such people around him. Growing up in the military taught him discipline and duty. The friendships he built there were based on those principles, so he never felt like he could unwind around them. The few moments he had spent with Jisung, though, were different. Somehow, even while he had still been on duty, he had been able to feel lighter when speaking to the other man. As if a weight from his heart had been lifted and forgotten.
The moment he reached the tree, Minho leaned on it to catch his breath, his blood painting the smooth bark red as he slowly slid to the ground. Closing his eyes, he focused his attention on the ongoing song that led him back here, only to open them again when it stopped. Looking over the brim of his hat, Minho saw Jisung crouching next to him, his expression twisted with worry as he glanced from his leg to his arm before his eyes landed on his pale, sweating face.
“Are you alright?”
The voice that a minute ago was singing so melodically was now soft as Jisung reached to peel away the torn cotton from his leg and revealed the deep cuts underneath. He let out a gasp at the sight, his round eyes now wider as he stared right into Minho's.
“Did… Did Min-hee do this to you?”
Minho chuckled weakly and took off his military hat to rest his head properly against the tree, a shaky breath escaping his lips as he finally allowed his body to relax.
“Yes. She ambushed me near her lair. I wouldn’t have escaped alive if I hadn’t stabbed her in the shoulder.”
Jisung somehow seemed taken aback by his explanation.
“You stabbed her?”
Frowning slightly, Minho nodded. His eyes didn’t leave the young man’s face, studying every shift in his expression. He noticed his worry give way to fear, then disappointment, then anger, before finally landing on acceptance.
“Min-hee was only trying to protect her cubs. They managed to survive a harsh winter in the mountains with little to no food. She’s worried about them.”
Minho’s eyes opened wide at the new information Jisung just threw at him.
“The tiger… is a mother?”
Jisung nodded, and a soft smile returned to his lips.
“Have you seen the cubs?”
“No, she doesn’t allow them far from her nest yet.”
Minho frowned slightly at the explanation.
“Then how do you know they exist?”
Jisung froze for a moment, his eyes getting this far-away look they had done once before when Minho had asked him about his name.
“I just… know…”
Then, suddenly, he snapped out of it and focused his attention at Minho again, his smile bright and heart-shaped once more.
“Wait here; I think I know how to help you a bit.”
“It’s not like I can go anywhere.”
Minho watched with a soft smile tugging the corners of his lips as Jisung gave him a look before turning around to start climbing up the tree. He reached for something from one of the branches before he jumped down and ran away towards the opposite side of the clearing. He returned a while later with a handful of mugwort and a flat flask hanging from his shoulder. Kneeling next to Minho, he placed the mugwort in his lap and started moving the bloodied cloth away from the wound in Minho’s thigh. Once his view was unobstructed, he opened the flask and used the cold water to wash away the blood and dirt, being as careful as he could to avoid causing further damage.
“She got you good, didn’t she?”
There was amusement in Jisung’s voice, and it made Minho scoff.
“It’s my fault. I was distracted.”
Jisung didn’t speak for a while. Instead, he took his time to chew the mugwort a bit before applying the newly formed paste directly on the wound.
“What could have distracted you so much that you failed to notice a tiger stalking you? By the way, do you have any bandages with you?”
Minho pointed at the pack on his hip as he considered the young man’s question. He knew why he had been distracted deep in the beast's territory, but he was unsure if he could just admit it out loud. Since he had met Jisung, the man had been a constant presence in his thoughts. He was an enigma Minho couldn’t unravel. Every question he thought he had answered only led to details that didn't add up, raising even more questions. Maybe he would make more progress if he asked Jisung directly.
“You. I was distracted thinking about what might have brought you so deep into the mountain.”
The long fingers finished wrapping the bandage against Minho’s muscular thigh, making sure it was properly secured, before their owner looked at the hunter with a warm smile.
“I told you before. I’m waiting for the tree to bloom.”
A frown instantly appeared on Minho’s face. The last time he had asked Jisung that question, he had said he wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but now he mentioned the tree. Looking up, Minho noticed that the bare branches had turned ashen, with moss and lichen creeping on them. This tree was dead. There was no way it would ever bloom. Couldn’t Jisung see that? He wanted to ask, but he was afraid it would upset the young man tending to the wound on his arm. He was thankful that his forearm guard had lessened the damage; otherwise, he would likely have lost the arm.
“Where are you from, Jisung-ssi?”
The other man smiled but didn’t look up from his work cleaning the wound.
“A nearby village.”
There were no villages nearby, not for miles. This area had been abandoned to the wilderness for decades after a war led to the deaths of most of the men, and the women and elders had to move to larger settlements to seek work.
Minho’s sharp eyes fell on Jisung again, watching carefully as he covered the puncture wounds with mugwort before dressing his forearm. Once again, Minho took note of the faded clothes the young man was wearing, and an unnerving thought surfaced in his mind. He shook it away instantly. It made no sense, not unless… He looked up at the branches again, dead for decades, and closed his eyes. He opened them when he felt Jisung’s touch on his arm, warm and tangible. Alive.
“Jisung-ah?”
The hands froze, and the young man blinked up at him, waiting. Minho tilted his head slightly as he studied the other man’s face, his big, dark eyes, full, round cheeks, and naturally pouty lips. Jisung was beautiful in a simple kind of a way, different from the men Minho had seen at court or in dance troupes. It was the beauty of someone who could love and be loved without limits, someone everyone could share an everlasting love with. Could it be…?
“What do you remember of that village?”
Jisung was tying two thin branches from his tree to Minho’s arm, splinting it in case the tiger had fractured or broken any of the bones, but stopped at the question. Minho noticed how the distant look settled over, just as the young man started talking.
“I remember a young woman and a young man in love. I remember their meetings under the blossoming cherry tree and the loving words they exchanged.”
A grimace of pain crossed his face, but Jisung continued, his voice now somber and low.
“I remember a war, and one final promise spoken under the same blossoming tree.”
Then, Jisung fell silent for a long time. If not for the tears slowly running down his cheeks, Minho would have thought he had frozen in time. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back against the tree and smiled sadly. As absurd as it was, there was only one explanation that answered every question about Jisung. The next time he looked at the young man who had tended to his wounds with such care, Minho noticed a deep sadness in his eyes. Slowly, he brought his uninjured hand to stroke Jisung’s cheek and to brush his tears away. As painful as it was, the next question had to be asked.
“Jisung-ah, do you remember that final promise?”
The other man closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. Minho noticed how his hand reached to touch the ashen bark, stroking it as if seeking comfort and support from it, but also offering it back.
“I remember it was broken. The young man never came back. The young woman waited, returning to the tree every spring, waiting for it to bloom. Waiting for him. He never returned, and neither did the blossoms on the branches.”
A single tear slipped from the corner of Jisung's eye, and Minho brushed that one away too. When the dark eyes met his once again, Minho's heart broke at all the emotions that seemed to dance across them. Pain, fear, and sadness were there, but the most prominent, the one that made his heart ache the most, was love. Jisung's lips parted in another bright, heart-shaped smile, and he lifted a hand to cup Minho's as he leaned into the touch.
“Lee Minho, I think I was waiting for you.”
The hand on the tree kept stroking the bark as Jisung turned to look up at the barren branches.
“All this time I had forgotten who I was. You helped me remember. You were always the answer. It’s because of you that the tree has a chance to bloom again.”
Minho followed Jisung’s gaze to the branches, his mind contemplating the implications. What kept the tree barren for so long was the promise of a love that couldn’t be. A promise that couldn’t be fulfilled because death got in the way, yet a promise that stayed alive for years by taking another form.
“Only the meeting of two lovers can make this tree bloom again. Neither of us has someone they love to be able to fulfill the promise.”
Jisung looked back at Minho, his expression hopeful but his smile shy.
“I know I love you. What I don’t know is if you also love me…”
The confession took Minho by surprise. He had only met Jisung once before, and that was for a short time. With the exception of the time they were currently spending together, when Minho was wounded and Jisung cared for him, they had no other chance to get to know each other or bond. How could Jisung say he loved him when he knew nothing about Minho? Memories of all the things Jisung seemed to know when he shouldn't have came to the hunter’s mind alongside Jisung’s simple answer that he just knows things. Was it possible that Jisung simply knew who Minho was and had fallen in love with him? Is this something spirits could do?
The most important question he had to answer, though, was whether he felt the same. Minho couldn’t deny to himself his lack of interest in women but the sometimes great interest he showed towards some of his fellow soldiers. Most of them also weren’t that much different than Jisung in their physique, yet none of them had managed to plague his thoughts as much as the man in front of him. Maybe what he felt for the young man wasn’t exactly love, but maybe that was the case because his feelings didn’t have enough time to grow as much. Was he willing to take that leap of faith, though?
“Jisung-ah, I can’t tell you with certainty that what I feel now would have bloomed into something as strong as what you see in your memory. I know that since the first time I left this clearing, I wanted to hear your song and your voice and that I wanted to see your face. Is this what love is?”
The smile Jisung gave him was the biggest and brightest he had ever seen in his round face. Leaning closer, the young man cupped Minho’s face and ran his thumbs across his sharp cheekbones.
“Let’s find out.”
Their lips met softly at first, with uncertainty, but after a few moments, the kiss deepened. Minho’s healthy arm rose until his hand curled around the back of Jisung’s head. Jisung, as if responding to an unvoiced command, straddled Minho’s unwounded thigh and leaned against him, opening his mouth for the hunter to explore. They kissed until they ran out of breath, their hands still holding the other tightly as they pressed their foreheads together.
“That was… amazing.”
Minho’s voice was low, and his pants filled the air between them. Jisung didn’t seem to mind. Instead, he leaned in for a quick peck on his lips.
“It was. Thank you, Lee Minho. For everything.”
Involuntarily, Minho's grip on Jisung tightened as he realized the true meaning of the words. If the promise was fulfilled, Jisung would have to leave, and Minho wasn't ready to say goodbye. As tears welled in his eyes, he hoped that he had failed, that his love wasn't enough to make the tree bloom. Jisung, seemingly sensing his distress, tried to soothe him. His long fingers stroked Minho's face and chest as he nuzzled against his neck.
“Hush now, no need to cry, jagi. Just close your eyes and rest. When you wake up, you won’t remember any of this.”
A sob escaped Minho’s lips, and he even brought his wounded arm around Jisung, holding him as tightly as he could with both hands.
“No… Don’t go… I don’t want to lose you!”
The spirit smiled again and leaned in for one last kiss. Minho fought hard to keep his eyes open, but they grew heavier the longer the kiss lasted. By the time it ended, the hunter was already slowly falling asleep. The last thing he heard before succumbing to exhaustion was a soft, whispered promise.
“You won’t. I promise to be with you. Always.”
❀
Minho woke up with a start. Looking around, he noticed that he was in a clearing deep in the forest, lying under the shade of a tree. Glancing up, he saw long branches covered with thousands of cherry blossoms softly swaying in the wind. He watched them for a while, wondering why the sight made him feel both happy and sad at the same time, before he decided it was time to get up and return to camp. As he put his weight on his legs, he felt a sharp pain coming from his left thigh, and, looking down, he noticed the dressed wound on it. Had he done that himself? Another pain on his right forearm got his attention, and he shifted his gaze there. There was a second dressed wound there, this one also splinted. Minho frowned. He remembered the tiger’s attack but couldn’t remember tending to his wounds. Shaking his head, he reached for the helmet at his side and put it on before gathering the rest of his things and started to limp towards the trees. The way back to camp was long, especially with a wounded leg, so it was best for him to cover enough distance while there was still light outside.
Before he took the final step out of the clearing, he turned to give the blooming cherry tree one last look. The feeling from before came back at the sight, this time stronger. His heart clenched as if in intense pain, and his eyes watered, but Minho couldn’t understand why. He couldn’t understand why he felt like he was leaving part of his soul in that clearing.
That was something Minho would never come to understand. Even many years later, he wouldn’t be able to explain why the sight of cherry blossoms hurt so much he cried or why, every time he touched one, he could see the echo of big, dark eyes and a heart-shaped smile accompanying a song about a promise made in love.