A Warm Morning

The garden was quiet, bathed in the soft golden light of morning. The cherry blossoms stirred gently in the breeze, their petals drifting lazily to the ground. Tagitsa moved with his usual precision, tending to a patch of flowers near the koi pond. His hands worked methodically, but his thoughts were not entirely focused.

From behind him came a cheerful voice. "Morning, Mr. Guide."

Tagitsa didn't turn immediately, his hands still brushing soil around the base of a flower. When he finally looked up, the woman stood a few steps away, her auburn hair catching the sunlight. Her amber eyes sparkled with the same warmth she had shown since her arrival. She wore a faint, knowing smile, one that seemed to say she belonged there as much as the flowers themselves.

Without waiting for an invitation, she crouched beside him and began pulling a few weeds from the soil. "Figured I'd lend a hand," she said lightly. "Not much else to do, right?"

Tagitsa straightened slightly, his emerald eyes narrowing as he watched her work. "You weren't asked to help," he said, his tone calm but carrying a hint of disapproval.

She glanced up at him, undeterred. "Didn't think I needed to be," she replied, brushing dirt from her hands. "Besides, this place feels like it deserves some extra care. It's beautiful."

Her ease unsettled him. Most souls in Purgatory were overwhelmed—afraid, regretful, lost. Yet she moved through the space with the confidence of someone who had been there for years. She plucked a stray leaf from one of the bushes and smiled. "Don't worry, I won't mess up your masterpiece."

Tagitsa's gaze lingered on her for a moment before he returned to his work. "Why are you here?" he asked, his tone steady but probing.

"Still with the questions," she said, leaning back on her heels. "You're relentless, you know that?"

"It's necessary," Tagitsa replied, his voice firm. "You cannot pass on until you confront your regret."

She tilted her head, her smile softening. "Maybe. Or maybe I'm just here to mess with you." Her tone was light, but the words carried an edge of mystery that made Tagitsa pause.

"You treat this place as if it's familiar," he said, his emerald eyes locking onto hers. "Why?"

She shrugged, turning her attention back to the flowers. "Because it is," she said simply. "But don't ask me why. That's your job, isn't it?"

Her answers only deepened his unease. For centuries, Tagitsa had guided souls through their regrets, helping them find peace and move on. Yet this woman—so warm, so unshaken—seemed untouched by the weight of her own burdens. Her presence in Purgatory felt wrong, as if she were bending the very rules of the space.

As the day went on, her energy never wavered. She followed him around the garden, offering small bits of conversation as she helped him tend to the flowers. Her laughter, her easy warmth, her familiarity with the space—all of it chipped away at his usual composure.

"You seem uncomfortable," she teased at one point, brushing a petal from her sleeve. "Am I throwing off your whole stoic guide routine?"

"You're distracting," Tagitsa admitted bluntly, his hands pausing over a bed of cherry blossoms. "Souls are not supposed to interact with this place the way you do."

She leaned against a nearby tree, her arms crossed casually. "Maybe I'm not like the others," she said with a grin. "Maybe you're not either."

By the time the sun began to dip toward the horizon, the day's tension seemed to settle into the air around them. The woman stretched her arms above her head and yawned. "Long day," she said lightly, her voice softening. "I think I'll take a little nap."

Before Tagitsa could respond, she wandered to a patch of grass near the pond, lying down with her hands folded behind her head. The stillness of her presence contrasted sharply with the unease she had left in Tagitsa's mind.

He watched her for a moment, his gaze unreadable, before turning his attention to the garden. With a wave of his hand, the space shifted. The bowling alley, once alive with neon lights and energy, faded into nothingness, replaced by the quiet serenity of the garden once more.

As the stars began to peek through the twilight sky, Tagitsa stood near the edge of the garden, his emerald eyes lingering on the woman as she slept peacefully under the cherry blossoms. For a brief moment, he considered the weight of her words, her actions, her very presence.

Finally, he moved to a spot a short distance away, settling himself against the trunk of a tree. His scarf shifted slightly in the breeze, revealing a faint glimpse of the scars beneath, but he paid it no mind. Closing his eyes, he allowed himself a rare moment of rest, the stillness of the garden wrapping around him like a veil.

The garden was silent except for the occasional rustle of cherry blossoms falling gently to the ground. Tagitsa leaned against the trunk of a tree, his arms crossed over his chest, his gaze fixed on the figure lying a short distance away. The woman rested beneath the soft glow of the stars, her auburn hair spread out like a halo against the grass. She had fallen asleep easily, as though she belonged in the serenity of Purgatory.

But Tagitsa couldn't rest. Something about her unsettled him, a weight in his chest that he couldn't place. His mind churned with questions he had never needed to ask before.

"Who are you?" he murmured aloud, his voice breaking the stillness.

The woman stirred at the sound, her amber eyes blinking open. She stretched lazily, as if waking from a dream, and turned her head to look at him. "Couldn't sleep?" she asked lightly, sitting up and brushing petals from her sleeves.

Tagitsa hesitated, the words forming on his lips before he realized what he was saying. "What is your name?"

She tilted her head, her smile soft and amused. "Autumn," she said simply, her tone as warm as the golden leaves of her namesake.

Tagitsa blinked, her name stirring something faint and distant within him. It was an unfamiliar sensation—a flicker of recognition, like the shadow of a memory just out of reach. He didn't know why he had asked or why her answer seemed to resonate somewhere deep inside him.

"Autumn," he repeated, the word feeling strange and heavy on his tongue. "Why are you here?"

She laughed softly, the sound gentle but carrying an edge of mystery. "We've been over this, haven't we? I thought you were supposed to figure that out."

Tagitsa frowned slightly, his emerald eyes narrowing as he studied her. Her presence, her familiarity, her name—it all felt wrong. Or perhaps it felt right in a way he couldn't understand. Either way, it left him uneasy.

"Do you remember your past?" he asked, his voice calm but probing.

Autumn's expression shifted, her playful smile fading into something softer, more introspective. "Bits and pieces," she said quietly. "Enough to know there's someone I cared about. Someone important."

Her words sent a ripple through Tagitsa's mind. For a moment, he felt the faintest flicker of something—an image blurred and fleeting, a sensation just beyond his reach. His chest tightened as though an invisible thread was being pulled taut.

"Who?" he asked, his voice lower now, almost hesitant.

Autumn looked away, her amber eyes gazing at the koi pond as if the answer lay within its rippling surface. "I don't remember their name," she admitted, her voice tinged with sadness. "But I remember how they made me feel. Safe. Loved."

The words lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken. Tagitsa's mind churned with fragments of something he couldn't piece together—flashes of warmth, the faint echo of a voice, the touch of a hand. He closed his eyes, but the images refused to come into focus, slipping away like water through his fingers.

"Are they why you're here?" he asked finally.

Autumn's gaze flicked back to him, her smile returning but softer now. "Maybe," she said. "Maybe not."

Tagitsa's hands tightened slightly at his sides, the faintest flicker of frustration breaking through his calm. "You speak in riddles," he said, his tone steady but carrying a subtle edge.

She laughed again, though this time it was quieter, almost wistful. "Maybe I do. Or maybe you're just not ready to hear the answers."

Her words struck something deep within him, and for a moment, he didn't know how to respond. He stood there in the stillness, his emerald eyes fixed on her as his mind churned with questions he couldn't articulate.

Autumn yawned softly, breaking the tension. "You should get some rest," she said lightly, lying back down on the grass. "Tomorrow's another day, Mr. Guide."

Tagitsa didn't move as she closed her eyes again, her breathing evening out into a peaceful rhythm. The garden fell silent once more, but inside him, the faint echoes of her words and his own fragmented thoughts stirred like an unrelenting tide.

The garden was quiet except for the gentle ripple of the koi pond. The cherry blossoms drifted lazily in the breeze, their soft descent painting the ground with delicate pink. Autumn sat cross-legged by the water, her gaze fixed on the fish swimming just beneath the surface. Tagitsa stood a short distance away, his hands folded neatly as he watched her with his usual detachment.

"You've been here a long time, haven't you?" she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the stillness. She didn't look at him, her focus remaining on the pond. "But have you ever wondered why you're still here?"

Tagitsa's emerald eyes narrowed slightly, though his expression remained calm. Her words carried a weight that pressed against him, though he couldn't pinpoint why. For centuries, he had accepted his role without question, guiding countless souls to their peace. The question she posed, so simple yet pointed, lingered in the air like a challenge he hadn't prepared for.

"I'm here to guide," he replied finally, his tone even but quieter than usual.

Autumn tilted her head slightly, her auburn hair catching the soft glow of the fading sunlight. "That's not what I asked," she said, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "I asked why you are still here."

The weight of her words deepened, settling into the spaces between them. Tagitsa didn't respond immediately. His gaze drifted toward the cherry blossoms, watching as a single petal landed in the pond, causing ripples to spread outward. Her question clawed at the edges of his mind, a question he had never dared to ask himself.

"You guide everyone else," she continued, her voice softer now but no less probing. "But what happens when no one is left? What happens when it's just… you?"

Tagitsa's hands tightened ever so slightly at his sides, the faintest flicker of discomfort crossing his otherwise impassive face. "That isn't for me to decide," he said finally, his tone firm but lacking the conviction it usually carried.

Autumn turned to him then, her amber eyes searching his face. For a moment, the teasing warmth she so often carried was gone, replaced by something deeper—something almost sad. "Maybe it should be," she said softly.

The silence that followed was heavy, filled only by the faint rustle of blossoms falling around them. Tagitsa's mind churned with thoughts he couldn't fully grasp, fragments of questions and half-formed answers swirling together. For the first time in centuries, his certainty wavered—not about his role, but about his place within it.

"You ask too many questions," he said at last, his tone calm but with a faint edge of tension.

Autumn smiled faintly, the warmth returning to her expression. "And you give too few answers," she replied lightly, turning back to the pond. "Maybe that's why we're such a good match."

The sun dipped lower on the horizon, casting the garden in a golden hue. Autumn leaned back on her hands, her gaze drifting to the cherry blossoms above. "This place is beautiful," she murmured, her tone softer now. "But it's not forever, is it?"

Tagitsa remained silent, her words echoing in his mind. The thought of Purgatory as something impermanent, something with an end, felt foreign to him. Yet the way she said it—so sure, so certain—made it seem undeniable.

As the light began to fade, Autumn stood and dusted off her hands. She turned to Tagitsa, her smile playful once more but her eyes still carrying a trace of that earlier sadness. "Well, Mr. Guide," she said, her tone light again, "you've got some thinking to do."

Tagitsa's gaze followed her as she began to walk away, her auburn hair catching the last rays of sunlight. The cherry blossoms swirled around her, their delicate dance contrasting with the heavy tension she left in her wake.