Sakura: Dorei

Snowflakes, like ash, drifted down past the hospital room's window into the black Tokyo night, settling silently on the cold ground below. Kinuyo's fingers dented the metal railing of the birthing bed, her knuckles white against the chrome. Each breath came as a ragged gasp in the sterile air, her otherworldly composure fracturing with each contraction. The cold from the nearby window slipped through her thin hospital gown, prickling her pale, almost translucent skin with goosebumps. Her body tensed with another surge of pain, dark and deep, mirroring the intermittent snowfall outside. Yet, something like satisfaction flickered across her face at these human sensations—these anchors to a reality that had slipped away centuries ago. Her eyes caught the dim fluorescent light and reflected it back too brightly, too intensely—like a predator's in the dark. The shadows in the corners of the room seemed to retreat from her gaze.