Maria sat in her usual spot along a terraced walkway overlooking the beautiful gardens of Mahoutokoro. Her soft eyes scanned the trees admiring the ever present always blooming blossoms. Her posture, as perfect as ever, with folded hands sat comfortably on a bench, belied the melancholy of the moment. She appeared as more doll than human, her make up done just so, and her kimono always pristinely pressed, creased, and tied.

Two years at this school already and she felt like she still knew no one, or perhaps, no one really knew her. Japanese customs and their ways continued to both astound and allude her. Sometimes too casual, and sometimes far to formal. The students were eclectic in a way that offered no small mount of consternation for the girl who wanted everything as she liked it. She wondered silently if she was ever really meant to come here at all. She loved the food and culture of her home so much and even though she tried to accept Japan after a rocky start, things just didn’t feel right to her.

The only movement that would let any onlooker know she was indeed alive was the sigh that escaped her lips. What was she going to tell her parents? She loved the teachers here and especially the garden. She had grown to tolerate the thing that Japanese tried to pass off as tea too. Though she still kept her own private reserve of select teas from China when she was feeling especially homesick.

The school year was ending and soon it would be time to face the other schools from around the world in several competitions - herself a racer. She had no fear of competition and no nerves, ever trained to be confident in all her endeavors and stubborn enough never to back down. There was a summer camp she was especially looking forward to. She had struck out in France in February, aside from one student who seemed to captivate her one moonlit night, and chose not to attend the Spring Ball at Hogwarts though she would have been its queen as regale as she surely would have looked. She wondered silently, as she continued to trace the tree tops with her gaze, whether a certain boy she met once would be there as well. Maybe she’d also finally make new friends. She had a feeling this year though would close having gained nothing new yet again from Mahoutokoro.

Mentioning in a memory: @Arno Dorian

Open to anyone who’d be brave enough to snap her out of her melancholy.