Notes

This is my personal pet project that I've been working on for a while, and I'm really excited to show you Peach Garden! It was originally prose practice that got out of hand...

It's set in (fantasy) Ancient China and follows Yuuya's adventures through a growing civil war in his country, and the mythical beasts that he encounters on the way.

This is cross-posted from AO3 (I am AO3 user mizael). The story on AO3 also includes art, so I encourage everyone to find the AO3 link on my profile and go check them out! This is also mainly the reason why I don't delve too much into description of characters; there is already art.

春天

Spring comes in a soft frenzy of color, a sudden blossoming of reds and pinks and blues, where the whole world is smothered in gentle petal caresses and cotton sceneries, warm forests and living gardens. It's around this time of year when they pick up their winter-woven wicker baskets and trot along the gardens, inspecting fruit on trees for those ready to be picked, eaten, and devoured for that is all the purpose they serve. They'll pluck them from the bushes, each berry or hanging fruit picked too early for their time. That's fine, they say, they'll last longer.

There is always one tree they don't touch in their routine, tucked in the center of their garden like a masterpiece on display, and when spring comes it's a fusion of pastel pink and glutted green. It's the peach tree, their only peach tree, and instead of tearing fruit from its branches like hungry wolves on fallen elk, they bring out a blanket and place it on grass underneath. When the fruit falls naturally from their branches, they'll go and pick it up, and place it in a separate pile from the rest.

"It's so that we ensure the peaches are fully ripe and juicy," his mother says when he asks, braiding locks of red under her fingers, weaving patterns like the wickers. Sometimes she adds in his tufts of green, like he's some sort of twisted colorway of the peach tree. "The blanket prevents them from cracking."

"Does it matter?" he remembers adding as they watch the falling petals in the garden, the lone peach tree in the center surrounded by soft fluffs of red and white. The other trees have been stripped bare, the bushes have been cleaned, and the only spots of edible color are the smaller ones left behind, deemed not worthy of picking. "Why can't we take them now?"

"They say that if you pick a peach tree too early, it's an invitation to misfortune," she hums. His mother finishes braiding the hair in her hands and pushes it out onto his chest, where it hangs awkwardly over his shoulder.

He huffs at her explanation, cheeks rounded with air like the child he is. "But I want to eat peaches, mom."

"In due time," she leans down to kiss his hair. They stay a little while more on their perch under one of the numerous red canopies dotting the lake. The blossoms of other trees fall gently into the water, where they float peacefully in the invisible current, until the water weighs too much and they drown.

"When will they be ripe?"

His mother hums again. "In a few weeks, hopefully," she says. He makes another whine but she shushes him with another kiss, and then a chuckle. "Good things come to those that wait, Yuuya."

He remembers his eyes shifting over to the tree, staring hopefully for one of its fruits to drop, but the scenery does not change and he does not see what he wants to. Instead, a faint wind blew, rustling the leaves and the trees until his mother commented on the weather and went to fetch blankets for them both. He was left there, under the red canopy, red like his hair, hands gripping the edge of the railing as he waited with baited breath for one of the peaches to drop.

"It's bad luck if they drop early," his mother adds when she gets back, a lack of blankets in her arms. She tucks a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and gestures for him to stand up. "And besides that, it's going to rain soon. We have to get back inside the palace."

"That can't be right," he stands up anyway, the red and white silks around him dropping to the floor in a flourish as he ascends. "The sky's still clear."

"The wind blows rain clouds," she echoes with a smile. Yuuya is ushered from the garden by his mother until they're just about out of the cement bridge on the lake. She stops then, looks back with a worried face, eyebrows knit together. "I think I forgot my hairpin there."

"I'll get it for you," Yuuya volunteers, and she laughs.

She pats him gently on the back in the direction of where they came from. "Well then, I won't stop you," her eyes dart to the sky, and then the blowing leaves, and hums an approval. "It won't rain for another ten minutes, but be quick about it."

Yuuya treks off back to the section of the lake they stayed at and his eyes light up as he sees the hairpin resting on one of the cushions they had the servants bring outside. He's over in two steps, body bent over to pick it up, and then set to leave when the wind picks up again, blowing the long silks of his sleeves into his face. Yuuya blanches, and swats them away, but the wind blows the hairpin out of his hands until it knocks with a loud clang against one of the poles and drops onto the ground.

He goes over to pick it up again, huffing. "Aaah," he sighs. He twirls the perfect gold pin in his hand, laiden with emeralds and rubies like his hair. His mother rarely wears red. "But it's pretty."

Another gust of wind blows his flowing hanfu all over and Yuuya pouts as his vision is obscured by soft red and whites again. This time, he just waits for the wind to settle until he can push his hair from his face and smooth out the rest of his clothes. They are unnecessarily expensive, just a token to his status as Prince, but Yuuya doesn't mind the multiple layers he has to put on everyday when he's seen the work that goes into them.

"Right, hairpin," he looks down at his hands, but the pin is gone. A thorough search of the nearby area doesn't reveal anything remotely resembling his mother's gold hairpin. Yuuya frowns, tries to upturn the cushions again but comes back with empty space and empty hands. "Mom's gonna kill me."

The air breathes a quiet breeze in reply, and he huffs. "It's your fault," he accuses the blowing wind. The wind just picks up again, makes the pillars around him howl in a mocking laughter. Yuuya rolls his eyes, but accepts his fate. "I just have to go and tell mom, then."

He gives one last halting look at the peach tree across the way, bundles of red and white fabric in his hands so that he doesn't trip over his flowing robes. He doesn't remember why he had stood there for a while, staring back at the pink and green tree, as if hoping and waiting for one good thing to happen, for the peaches to drop.

He had sighed and turned around to go back, and understandably his mother had been disappointed, but she told him that it was fine, she could get another one. They trekked back to the palace together, hand in hand, and took shelter when the rain hit as she said it would. And then they'd had dinner together, watching the rain pour from their rooms in the height of luxury.

When Yuuya went to sleep that night, he looked out towards the peach tree again, now farther away than his view from the lake.

He remembers squinting, leaning out the second floor of the palace to check for a dropped peach, but nothing was on the blankets underneath. He'd sighed, pouted, grumbled, but shed his dressy hanfu and went to sleep.

(In the morning, he was greeted with a peach on the ground, split in two.)

End Notes

The first two chapters will be uploaded at once. The third chapter will be uploaded anywhere between two weeks to a month, depending on my mood and forgetfulness. The version you see here on FFN will always be behind the one on my AO3.

Please leave a review if you liked it! I'm mostly cross-posting because I'm hoping to get more readers.

I would really appreciate your feedback~