Chapter Text
Summer, in the flourishing vast lands of the west, the sun was at its peak, high above the trees. The sky was in a clear blue shade with a handful of clouds passing by, gently being blown by the wind, the same element that was descending and swaying the leaves of the green woods below.
On land, somewhere in the forest, under the shades of wild trees, a young taijiya stopped on his tracks and released a deep breath, finally relieved of the pressure he had suppressed for a long time in the castle that morning. In his hands were three scrolls bundled together by a silk magenta ribbon. The golden insignia of the inu clan was pinned in the middle.
A smile surfaced from the taijiya's face, eyes on the document. "The start of a new era," he muttered to himself, chest swelling with warm positivity, really pleased to what he had accomplished. Although the agreement was for the western lands alone, the taijiya felt like he had acquired a change for everything.
The great daiyoukai had agreed to the terms the young man had offered, and had signed on it. Yes, the Lord of the Western Lands remained cold and proud but deep inside, the young man knew, the great demon lord had changed. And, that same change had led him to agree to make peace and have terms with humans.
The process wasn't easy, of course. It had taken the young man a year and a half of back and forth to the castle and to the human council in order to create terms to which both humans and demons would agree.
Indeed, no human in the right mind would volunteer to do such task, facing demons, especially a daiyoukai. But, yes, this young taijiya had volunteered at once. After all, he already had met and had travelled with the demon lord before, and thus, had sufficient experience interacting with him. Also, he was skilled enough to survive in the midst of the hungry demons in the daiyoukai's domain. He was a remarkably talented demon slayer and could purely defend himself. Of this, he was confidet and proud of.
Back to the scrolls in his hands, the young man felt rather proud and honored and, in many ways, felt like he had finally found a new purpose to continue and live his new life. A way of creating peace between youkais and humans was already at the horizon, being offered and merely within reach. If he ever had a chance to make it happen and build one, he was fully determined to do whatever he could.
"Finally," he stated as he ran his fingers to his demon companion's light-colored furs. The demon, in its true form, nodded in agreement and then, rubbed the young man's cheek with its head. The taijiya laughed, "Thanks, Kirara."
It was time for him to leave the place.
He placed the scrolls inside his satchel. He was about to mount over the demon when he heard someone called, "Kohaku-kun!" He stopped.
Knowing the girl behind the voice, Kohaku turned to her direction and shot a smile, "Yes, Rin-chan?"
The girl was slowly arriving from the air to land on the ground near him via two-headed dragon-like youkai. Once alighted, Rin jumped off from the creature to the ground. There, beside the youkai, she stayed, a few feet away from the taijiya.
Bathed with the sunlight under the shade of a tree, Rin's face was glowing with the familiar beam of hers. Her smile had not withered. She had the same innocence and freshness in her spirit. However, she was not totally the same either. Ten years since Naraku was defeated and time, as expected, had taken its ways of changing the people involved in the aftermath. The two of them were not exceptions.
"Anou, Kohaku-kun…" she started, hesitating. "Is this the last time you will visit the castle?"
The young man, on the other hand, didn't hesitate, "Yes, I'm afraid." He answered truthfully. However, as the words escaped his mouth, he could not help but mull over the implications. He recalled his days in the inu castle:
The days the dayoukai had taught him about the right way to draft a contract, from clever wordings down to intent, may it be his intention or simply his drive to perfect everything;
The vacant hours, the daiyoukai had given him sparring lessons, may it be his intension or simply he was bored to the core;
The strange days the daiyoukai had let him venture through his precious sunflower field with Rin and Jaken (just like the old days) and give him pieces of advise occasionally, may it be his intension or simply he was irritated by the young man's way of thinking, he felt the need to correct him.
The daiyoukai's words in one of those strange days, had etched his heart and cut through his soul. This, he would never forget:
"Redemption is never without an action. Unless acted upon, regrets are nothing but whines of cowards and weaklings. You feel so indebted of the world you have taken innocent lives from, guilty of sins unforgivable on this earth and beyond. Then, you should be ready to serve it with your life, and your next."
Back to the present, the taijiya laughed shortly, "I don't think I have any more reason to meet Lord Sesshomaru again." He felt rather sad stating the obvious. "Unless we violate the agreement, which we won't dare do, I hope." A pause, and then, he added with a shrug, "And, the demons don't like me that much here."
Rin's brows wrinkled at this, "That's not true! Sesshomaru-sama likes you."
The taijiya sweat-dropped, "Yeah?" He could not tell, really. There was something about the unchanging stoicity in the demon lord's face that tells him that, he might like the company of the daiyoukai, but it would never be mutual on his part.
Seeing him unconvinced, Rin insisted, "Sesshomaru-sama does! Jaken-sama too."
The latter, he was sure.
"Yes, I know," he nodded as he agreed. He smiled at the thought of the clumsy toad. "That's very sweet of him. I like him too. Please, do tell him, Rin-chan."
He beamed at the girl. However, she did not return the gesture. Silence. Her worries and uncertainties were palpable on her face. He could really tell that she was sad about him leaving. Well, he was feeling the same. Sad, because leaving the castle means leaving Rin, the only living human in the demon domain. That, and another personal reason. He simply did not want to be apart from her.
The girl had grown dear to her, especially when she had accepted everything about him. Her words back then still echoed in his mind, along with the image of the summer sun above and the field of flowers around them:
"Bad people spew excuses of their bad deeds. And, you are not one, for you feel sorry even for the things you should not be. You are a good person, Kohaku."
"Anou, Kohaku-kun…" Rin started again, and he was dragged back to the present. "Is this the last time we will ever meet?" Her eyes were hopeful, waiting for his reply.
Once again, he didn't hesitate. He spoke from his heart, eyes softening, "I hope not, Rin." This time, the girl smiled widely. He smiled just as much. He continued, "Until we meet again?"
"Yes, of course, Kohaku-kun!" she quickly replied as if it was the most obvious and truest thing in the world.
"Until we meet again." He bade goodbye, temporarily.
The same wind blew. Leaves swayed and fell around the two figures standing with demons beside them. In silence, they knew that they would, yes, meet again. Little did they know that aside from the promised change of the scrolls inside the young taijiya's satchel, another promise of a prophecy had started as well.
And, not all stories start with good and happy ones. This tale started with loss. And then, there was grief.
FIFTEEN YEARS later.
Behind a straw hat's shadow, mahogany eyes scanned the people that were camped outside the village. They were all participants of the early-hours battle that day. At the first rays of sun, they had charged their enemies with a full heart, and now, only remnants of that bravery had survived the dusk. A quarter of them were currently suffering from battle wounds, with the injured ones aiding those who were worse. The greater rest were less fortunate, lying cold and stiff on the ground, covered in straw mats.
The war had ceased. Yet, had not ended. What was happening was only a give-away moment to mourn and weep for losses.
This scene was already familiar to her. She had already witnessed many of these conflicts for over the past years. Every one of them had led to deaths. This one, however, was worse. Before, they always get back after losses, returning to battles with renewed hope. This time, it was as if they had drained all the fire within them, never to return again.
Her eyes narrowed, 'They became more ambitious and went beyond their limits. This is simply the result.'
She heaved a sigh at the thought, and then, focused ahead. It wasn't the right time to think about anything other than the business as to why she had bothered to come to the dreadful-looking village in the first place.
She pulled her horse towards the gate, but the guards before it, as expected, stopped her on her tracks.
"STOP!" Two personnels pointed their arms at her, "STRANGERS ARE NOT ALLOWED BEYOND THIS GATE!"
They had yelled out louder than usual. The people around had caught of her arrival at last, their hopeless eyes landing on her figure and her horse. She ignored all the glances thrown at her, and told them calmly, "I wish to see your chief."
But, the exhausted guards unheeded. They seethed, "LEAVE!"
With this, she told them aloud with a commanding tone, "CALL YOUR CHIEF AND TELL THE MIKO FROM THE PAST IS HERE TO SEE HER!" She glared at them, hard and cold. Her presence turned too intimidating that the guards took two steps behind from their posts and the spectators around became unable to form a word. When they became too silent, she reminded them, "NOW!"
Finally, one guard spoke, although shaking in fear, "Y-you need to wait here, and," he paused to clear his throat, "we need a name."
With the hostility gone, her features softened. She sighed and replied at them, "Kikyou." Next, she removed the hat off her head and the rug off her shoulders, revealing herself to the guards and to the people around. The crowd gasped as they took in her full features; pale skin, long raven hair, mahogany eyes, all dressed in white and red common priestess garbs.
"Isn't that her?" The people murmured. They had heard of her: The miko, the guardian of the Shikon no Tama, who was once a walking corpse but had attained an immortal life.
Unaffected by the people's reaction, she continued, "Tell her that the miko Kikyou is here to retrieve the jewel."
"Hai!" With a nod, the guard took his leave and went inside to call for their head.
Kikyou waited. The crowd waited. An eerie and uncomfortable, almost sickening, silence ruled outside the walled village. But, the people, no matter how quiet they were, were judging her with their eyes, accusing her of not being human anymore. Her immortality is pure anomaly in nature. She was odd, and humans tend to dislike things they cannot understand.
Kikyou was used to this, and so, she remained as stoic as always.
Five long minutes after, the guard came back. He stopped before her horse and straightened his posture, "My apologies, Lady Kikyou. They are waiting for you inside. You can proceed." With that, he guided the horse inside and left the gates, leaving another soldier to replace his post with the other guard.
Inside the walls was not too far from the outside scenery. Dead bodies were laid everywhere with mourning relatives on the sides. The sound of weeping was overwhelming, drowning the place with too much grief and sufferings.
The miko kept her eyes focused on the path that the guard was leading to. Further up ahead was another wooden gate of a lower wall. It was the entrance for the inner part of the village. They stopped before it and the guard knocked three times in a rhythmic pattern. A small opening was revealed from the face of the gate, and then, a pair of eyes appeared.
"Is that her?" the owner of the eyes inquired to the officer.
"Yes, this is Lady Kikyou."
The eyes disappeared as the opening closed. Clicks and turns have been heard before the gate finally opened, revealing another guard who seemed to be the owner of the eyes. He said, "From here you'll walk, Lady Kikyou. We'll take care of your horse."
The miko nodded and alighted from her horse. The guard from the first gate took her horse and, from there, the new guard of the inner wall guided her inside.
There were no corpses inside the inner wall. All the same, the sorrow was still present, and even worse. The place felt like a cemetery itself. Lifeless.
They came across a rich, green, and fireflies-lit garden before having to see a large single-storey building of traditional wooden carpentry and dark-colored clay shingles as roof. It was obviously a place for the chief of the village and a place to hold meetings and some ceremonies.
They would continue their way undisturbed when they heard a cry. It said, "NO! She can't take it! That's the only hope we have to have him back!" Not too far from them, standing just outside the building, were two figures. Both were unaware that the miko was already present on site.
The other one countered, "GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, SANGO! DON'T YOU HEAR WHAT YOU ARE SAYING? Kohaku is dead and we can't do anything about it now."
The woman, Sango, seemed to be losing her air already with how she was crying unceasingly. She was wearing a long robe over her kimono. Her injuries on her body were already covered with bandages. Her wounds and scratches on her face, however, remained obvious. She had come from the previous battle that morning as well. She was the chief of the village after all.
The other person, a monk, continued, "Let him go, Sango. Let him go now." He was pleading, his voice was the same as those who were still mourning.
The chief shook her head, "No, the jewel once took him back. It might as well – "
This time, with steady and firm voice, Kikyou interrupted, "Do you really want him to suffer one more time as a living corpse?!" Hearing her voice, the two turned to her direction at once, surprise on their faces. The miko continued, "The jewel had already given him a life, a normal one, a normal soul. If you attempt and force the jewel to do it again, he'll suffer one more time. Do you really want it to happen?"
Sango, through her tears, tried to reason, "He will not —"
Kikyou cut her, "Kohaku will suffer. He will not want that."
The chief seethed, "As if you knew him!"
With this, Kikyou's gaze turned sad. Her voice barely above a whisper when she reminded them, "I did."
Sango heard this and, somehow, she could not think of a rebuttal. With words failing her as well, she wept harder and covered her face with her hands.
The monk neared beside the chief and talked tenderly, one hand on her back, rubbing it gently to ease her, "Let her have and keep it. It's for the best."
Sango simply looked away and shoved him off. Afterwards, she stormed out of sight, leaving only the three figures in front of the building.
The monk sighed and straightened his posture. He then withdrew a smile, facing Kikyou, "I think, that's a yes." He, then, walked towards her and greeted, "Welcome to our humble abode, Kikyou-sama." His merry tone was forced. He, like the others, was mourning as well.
The miko nodded and acknowledged him, "Miroku-houshi." By then, the guard bowed and took his dismissal.
"I'm sorry about that," Miroku began. "My wife, Sango. This is just too much for her. Losing Kohaku for the second time is a bit hard to accept. He was the only family she had and then —"
Kikyou stopped him by hand, "I know, houshi. You don't have to explain. I understand."
Miroku smiled again, the kind saying 'I owe you a lot,' pertaining to his gratitude towards the miko who had saved his dear life before. The monk continued, altering the subject, "It has been a long time since then. Twenty and five years?"
"Yes, indeed."
"Ahh," he looked up, reminiscing the years before. The stars were already visible above. The night had already fallen without them noticing. Then, the monk turned once again to the miko, "And yet, you have not aged."
"And," Kikyou took a second to choose a more proper word for him, "you have grown, Miroku-houshi."
The monk released a low and short laugh, "Have grown old, perhaps." He paused to heave a sigh, "And, tired. With all these things happening, I have grown so weary."
Yes, tired. It was obvious on his face. Excluding the effects of the years that had passed, his features were the same. But, the exhaustion from years of fighting had taken a toll on his person, and now already evident in his eyes. With grief adding up on top of it all, he looked even more tired. Certainly, he had wept just like his wife did sometime that afternoon.
Kikyou kept quiet. She had nothing to say. The stillness of the newly formed night ruled inside the inner wall. Only some living insects were audible.
Once again, Miroku spoke, breaking the silence. "He's there inside," he pointed the building. "With his wife," he added. "She's already aware that you're here and the reason behind, of course. Let me guide you there, Kikyou-sama." He gestured towards the building. The miko just nodded and then followed his lead.
Entering the building with the miko, Miroku climbed up through the low wooden stairs. He turned right and travelled through the engawa. They passed many rooms and halls until they stopped before a separated enclosed structure, secluded and was near a small garden. By the type of wood and the design which had been used, as a miko, Kikyou knew that it was a small private shrine inside the parameters of the building itself.
Miroku walked towards the slightly open door and looked through. Afterwards, he turned to the miko behind him and said, "His wife just came from a shock. She lost her voice this afternoon after the arrival of Kohaku's body." Next, he expressed an almost flat smile. "Just talk to her. She can't speak but she can hear, Kikyou-sama."
Kikyou nodded. With that, Miroku turned to the door once again. He announced, "Rin-chan, this is Miroku-san. I have the miko. We will enter." It was not a question but a plain statement.
The monk slid the door open, revealing a semi-dark room that was slightly illuminated with few wall torches. At the opposite end of the rectangular room was a lighted altar, and before that was a sitting woman, her back facing the two. She was seating neatly under her folded legs. Between her and the altar was the obvious body of the dead taijiya, laid flat on the wooden floor.
The monk entered the shrine. Right after, Kikyou entered as well.
The woman slowly turned her head a bit, acknowledging their entrance. Then, she neatly stood from her position. She took silent steps and faced them.
The weak light from the room was enough to reveal her features. She was wearing a plain kimono. Hanging over her shoulders was a dark-colored hiyoku, blanketing her small frame. Her eyes were being ruled by unfathomable sadness, almost empty. Her raven locks were resting flatly on her tired and slack shoulders. Her pale cheeks were stained with obvious dried tears. She was neither smiling nor crying. Expressionless. It was as if she had gone too exhausted to express anything. Although covered with heavy grief, her face was quite familiar with the miko.
Realization came in. Kikyou's eyes slightly widened, remembering the cheerful little girl she had once saved. "Rin," she muttered more to herself.
Miroku turned to the miko, "Haven't you heard of her?"
Without turning and looking at the monk, Kikyou replied, "I have heard of a woman called Rin leading the peace movement with her husband, but, I have not thought that she is the Rin of Sesshomaru."
Miroku only smiled at this but didn't give any remarks. They continued inside until they came face to face with Kohaku's widow.
"Rin-chan," the monk spoke with a silent question. The widow just nodded as a reply and bit her cracked lips. She refused to look at anyone's eyes. Her tears were once again forming at the corners of her eyes.
'Poor girl,' thought Kikyou.
Miroku led Rin towards a corner in the shrine and stood there in silence, giving the miko her space and letting her do her work. With that, Kikyou sat on the same spot that the widow had previously sat on, and placed her hands over her folded legs. She carefully scanned the corpse of the brave taijiya.
Kohaku's eyes were neatly shut. The color of his skin was already taken by death. There was a hole through his chest, ruining his armor. The miko guessed out that it was a sword that took his life out of him.
A heavy sadness stroke the miko's heart. Yes, this was the very same kid she had once traveled with. She could not help but recall the last time she had seen him alive.
Three years ago, their paths had crossed. Kohaku and his troops had been camping somewhere in the east forest and she had happened to be passing by. While most people avoided interacting with her for being strange, Kohaku had greeted her with a grateful smile and had welcomed her with open arms. He was full of life back then, radiating, different from when he was a kid.
He had told her eagerly he had found a purpose, making a difference, and that his life had been progressing with a growing family and a newborn son. He was so happy and contented, and so Kikyou felt happy for him too.
Kikyou could still remember how envious she had been of him that he had found a purpose. He was so certain of his goals and paths. He knew what to do and where to go. Unlike her.
"I wish you the same, Kikyou-sama," he had told her sincerely, and she had felt genuine warmth from it. She was sure, back then, that Kohaku was a light to others, a hope to those who were lost. She had never regretted saving his life. He absolutely deserved his second chance.
Now, Kohaku was there before her, on the cold floor, lifeless. Indeed, fate was ruthless with its twisted ways of giving bliss one time, and then snatching it away the next instance along with the rest, along with everything.
Kikyou took a deep breath and composed herself. There was no time to mourn. She had a task to do. Ready, she raised her arms to her shoulders' level, her one hand over the other, set above Kohaku's chest. Then, she closed her eyes and summoned the power of the jewel streaming through her blood.
Pink light coming from the miko's palms illuminated the semi-dark room. Seconds passed, and the light became greater than the initial radiance. A minute after, another pink light illuminated the room. This time, it was coming from Kohaku's chest. Slowly, the source of this light, which was a little pink orb in appearance, ascended from the corpse's chest towards the miko's glowing palms. Finally, opening her eyes, Kikyou neatly and carefully took the orb and kept it inside her two hands. Slowly, she folded her elbows and led her hands towards her own chest. With greater light, the orb was absorbed and entered the miko's body. A blinding light disturbed the silent shrine. A few more seconds after, the room returned to its darker shade as if nothing happened.
The jewel was finally complete.
The Shikon no Tama had granted the taijiya a normal life and a normal soul. On the other hand, the miko, as the keeper of it, had been granted with an immortal life, with the jewel itself running through her veins. With this, the miko was tied and bound to it eternally, never to be separated unless an outside force was acted upon her. She was immortal but was possible to be killed. So, in order to protect the jewel, she had to protect her life.
Watching the miko from the corner of the shrine, the monk's eyes narrowed in thought, 'Blessed or cursed?'
An endless duty was an eternal commitment. Although, some selfish people would envy her life being immortal, he knew that being one was painful and saddening. True, she would see a lot in her lifetime, best and worst side of men, rise and fall of kingdoms. She would witness victories and losses, peace and chaos, life and death, and so much more. But then, being the only one bestowed with such duty and life, she couldn't be with and couldn't stay with anyone. She would always lose people around her, as she would always move forward, and never ever rest.
In a way, Miroku pitied the miko, 'A lonely life of endlessly protecting the jewel.'
Her life was always under threats for a reason that demons' and humans' eyes were always right after the jewel. But then, who would dare fight against the miko who had the power of the jewel itself anyway? Yes, only fools would dare. Kikyou, of all priestesses, was without a doubt the strongest.
The said powerful miko gracefully stood from her spot. She looked at the two humans in the corner. Once again, Rin was crying. Miroku was standing behind her, supporting her weak frame. She must have started crying the moment the last remnants of life was removed from Kohaku. Again, the miko thought, 'Poor girl.'
They would have remained standing in silence, until Rin coughed wildly out of her weak sobs. Loud and heavy. They were beyond normal. Then, she coughed another. This time, thick blood came out from the widow's mouth. Kikyou's eyes widened in surprise. Rin was terminally ill!
The miko hurriedly went to Rin's side. With the help of Miroku, she supported her weak frame and rubbed her back. Only a minute later did Rin cease from coughing. Miroku cleaned her blood-stained mouth with a cloth. Afterwards, Rin's body suddenly collapsed against him, unconscious.
"She's sick," Kikyou finally voiced out, not removing her eyes from the poor widow.
Miroku only replied with a sad smile.
The shoji from Rin's room opened. Kikyou went out. She then closed the door behind and walked a little to join the monk who was standing beside a wooden post outside the room. Kikyou stopped before the edge of the engawa and took a moment to look at the inner court before her eyes. Up above, the sky was clear. The moon was visible as well, so bright and complete.
After a moment of silence, Miroku finally asked, "How much time does she has left?"
Kikyou looked at him from the corner of her eyes. He looked like he had an idea, more or less. And so, she turned to him with the old expressionless face she always wore. She told him frankly, "Days, houshi. She only has days."
"A week?"
Kikyou hesitated for a moment. Then, she answered, "Shorter."
With that being said, Miroku closed his eyes, processing the information. Rin was still too young to die! Frustrated, he raised his fist to punch the wooden post beside him.
Kikyou waited in silence.
After awhile, Miroku somehow calmed down. He opened his eyes, "I never thought that this will come to this, that everything will go south." He took a deep breath and straightened his posture. Completely collected, he faced the inner court, eyes ahead. Kikyou faced the direction as well.
The monk began again, "When Kohaku brought home those three scrolls from the Western Lands carrying the first agreement of humans and youkais, the people celebrated. It was the same day the prophecy was brought down to us through your sister, Kaede."
Kikyou remembered that time. She remarked, "That caused her life."
"Yes," he paused and looked at the miko. Although, Kikyou had not been present when her sister died, she had been informed of the matter. Kaede had died soon after she had finished delivering the words. Something about her already fragile state due to old age and the amount of power she had to exert to deliver every word from the heavens.
"Humans will attain peace with the youkais," Kikyou recited the well-known prophecy almost automatically.
Miroku nodded, "Yes, and that prophecy brought hope to every one of us. Kohaku, on the other hand, thought a little different. He took the prophecy as his responsibility. He took it as his purpose for his new life. He said that it was the only way he could pay off all his debts, particularly the murders that he had done under Naraku's controls."
Miroku heavily sighed and looked at the moon above, "And, I believed that. A lot of us did. That boy," his voice trailed, eyes glistening, "was special. He was full of hope and faith, anyone would be convinced."
Kohaku's warm smile flashed in Kikyou's mind. She agreed, "Indeed, he was."
"He gained an army for his movement. Different groups of people. Low and high ranking warriors. Demon slayers from other lands. For the first time in history, people united for peace. All because of him. We believed that he could and would make the prophecy come true."
The monk smiled briefly at a distant memory, "Then, our faith became stronger when, somehow, he was able to bring Rin with him from the West."
"How?" Kikyou asked. "I mean, how did Rin end up with Kohaku, with the taijiyas?"
Miroku acknowledged her curiosity, "Ah, you wonder as well."
Kikyou nodded.
"Well, I can say, Kohaku had grown to love Rin in his visits in the inu castle for the agreement. The feeling was mutual. Young love it was. And so, when they both reached the right age, Kohaku immediately asked for her hand in marriage. He asked permission from her guardian, Sesshomaru."
The monk's dreamy smile transformed into sadness, "And, the dog demon rejected him. As you know, he is as cold and as hard as a stone. He always is. But, it was a surprise to Kohaku, nonetheless. His rejection."
He watched Kikyou express light confusion. Why would it be a surprise? He explained, "Kohaku admired Sesshomaru. He spoke so highly of him in his returns that even Sango, his own sister, got irritated and jealoused sometimes." He released a light chuckle at the end, remembering some instaces. Then, he turned to the miko with a somber face, "He spoke so highly of you too."
Kikyou did not know how to react to that. Somehow, she could not wrap around her head why would anyone look up to her.
Miroku continued, "Kohaku was confident that Sesshomaru would agree to his proposal just as how he agreed to our terms years ago. And so, when Sesshomaru rejected him, he was brokenhearted. The dog demon even banned Kohaku from his lands, casted him away like he was so eager, even desperate, to separate them from each other. But, the two insisted. They fought for their love all the same.
"We don't really know what happened and how. They both kept their silence regarding it. One thing I can tell you though, when Kohaku brought Rin from the West that day, she was crying and spent the whole day up to nightfall doing so. Kohaku wept too. He said he felt like he betrayed Sesshomaru.
"We thought that Seshomaru would take back the first formed agreement from us, as a come back or sort. But, he didn't. For the past ten years, we never heard a word from Sesshomaru, not a single word from him to Rin. It seemed like he abandoned her completely."
"It sounds the opposite," Kikyou remarked.
Miroku raised an eyebrow, "What do you mean?"
"It seemed like Rin abandoned Sesshomaru for Kohaku."
Another silence ruled after. The both of them turned to the same court once again. Then, Miroku continued the story, "Rin ending up with Kohaku, despite all obstacles, only proved that their love can conquer all. This strengthened our faith. We believed that through the two of them, the prophecy will happen. And so, many more armies lend their hands to the movement.
"For those youkai clans and pacts that were against the movement, we fought them. We held wars against them only to pursue and convince them. We only need them to surrender, that's all, so that peace can be obtained."
"But wars are never without consequences," Kikyou entered.
"We know," Miroku nodded in agreement. "Still, we fight. These wars we hold are merely steps towards that prophecy, towards its promised peace."
Kikyou darkly chuckled at the irony of his words, "You speak so much chaos and violence to be talking about peace in the end."
Miroku nodded, "I know you don't fully agree to our ways. I don't expect you to be. You are a miko after all. You aid the wounded, and not inflict injuries. You exterminate demons, and not make peace with them."
True. Kikyou's ways and beliefs were the reasons why she kept herself away from the movement. She would rather wait and see if they would indeed attain peace with youkais than interfering and involving herself.
Miroku grunted, troubled with thoughts. He massaged the bridge of his nose, in hopes to release some tensions. With one heavy sigh, he composed himself and put down his hand to his side.
"Everything is going south now," he went on. "The movement was fueled by Kohaku and his will. But, with him dead and Rin dying, tell me, how are we be able to fight now without someone fulfilling the prophecy?" Those were not questions. Those were statements of hopelessness.
Kikyou had no words to reply to that.
Miroku looked at the moon steadily, "This morning, we weren't the only one who lost someone dear in the battle. The other side, the Northern Lands, lost someone too.
Kikyou's brows knitted, "What do you mean?"
The monk's voice was low, almost inaudible, when he said, "Kohaku died in the middle of the battle. Who killed him? We don't know. We only found him dead on the ground." His voice turned bitter. Miroku's hands balled up tightly. "We were enraged by his death! Driven by anger, we entered their base and burned everything to ashes. Inside their base was the son of the Lord of the North. We were unaware that a demon kid was even there in the first place. He was still small and defenseless, and so he died."
Kikyou absorbed the information, still had no words to remark.
Miroku clicked his tongue, "Both sides retreated. Both sides lost. The war temporarily ceased. But I know, I feel, there will be a revenge attack from the North. That demon lord is never the type to surrender. He will not let things settle this way so easily. When? I don't know. But, it will come soon."
The monk leaned once again on the post, voice forlorn, "There is a certain battle just within the horizon coming towards us, and we? We have no strength and will to fight anymore."
Kikyou took a deep intake of the stale air around her. Knowing the story, the deaths and wars behind, the miko felt somewhat heavy.
She revisited her ponderings before she entered the village earlier, about humankind being too ambitious. Having peace alone was barely attainable. Having peace with youkais was impossible. But, with a prophecy at hand sent from heavens, plus the fact that it came through her sister, Kaede, of all people, peace must be possible. She had enough reasons to believe the foresight. However, with Kohaku and Rin gone, who was there to fulfill it?
It was Miroku who guided her outside the inner wall. Once out, the smell of corpses and blood returned, along with the combined weepings of children, widows and relatives.
It was time for the miko to leave. "This way to your horse, Kikyou-sama," the monk gestured to another direction, away from the miserable crowd.
But, Kikyou's eyes were at a rectangular shelter near them. Inside the shed were rows of injured people, laid on straw mats. Some were laid on long tables. There were hundreds of wounded men that needed to be aided. The healers were clearly outnumbered.
"Kikyou-sama?" Miroku called once again.
Without turning to the monk and with eyes fixed on the subject, Kikyou responded, "I am a miko. I should help them." No more words needed.
The monk bowed and uttered, "My deepest gratitude."
Monogatari.
There was an inevitable battle within the horizon coming towards humanity itself. Even with it being evident, humans had no strength and will to fight anymore.