Disclaimer: I claim ownership over nothing, and I think you'd be silly to believe otherwise.
kiwoku
it was the time of these questions:
Isn't life under the sun just a dream?
Isn't what I see, hear and smell
only the illusion of a world before the world?
Does evil actually exist,
and are there people who are really evil?"
The woman twisted her wrists and body as much as she could, but futilely, against her coarse woven bonds.
A young monk sat within kicking distance, but as she was bound yet and the young man's shakujou rested in his hand as a potential weapon, she decided she could not maneuver herself successfully in the time it would take to pin her to the ground. His smile was placating, and she imagined the satisfaction of knocking him on the head with something heavy as he spoke.
"Please understand that I would not usually seek to stay you by such underhanded means. But, given these circumstances," his unbandaged arm --- the one closer to her --- drew away from her and closer to his own body, "I am unable to still you myself. You have my most sincere apologies."
He should have known better than to loosen the ropes when they appeared to cause her discomfort, and to allow her to squirm so, both distracting him and further loosening the ties binding her wrists to her ankles. As soon as she freed herself, she would seek confrontation if escape was not an immediate option. No one impeded her mission.
She would not kill him, since it was not presently her master's wish, but she would see to it that he was repaid for this inconvenience.
But then ---
Realization existed as little more than breath across her consciousness, the faintest trace of a scent long forgotten and teasing at her olfactory sense. Perhaps of a past life.
No. No. It seemed too fresh, and evoked new --- but strangely familiar --- sensations in her breast and mind. She gave the boy a hard stare that, after a few moments had passed between them, had dissolved into a look of confused concentration. "You . . . "
There was no other way to describe how the boy reacted than to say he lit up. His features rose from resigned, restrained haplessness to almost boyish joy in not even the blink of an eye. "Do --- do you recognize me?" Nearly beside himself, he knelt before her, grasping the backs of her bound hands, looking as though he barely resisted the urge to pull her close; a wise decision to preserve his safety. The boy bound his emotions well with sensibility.
There was something achingly . . . familiar about that.
Perhaps she had known him, in that life that had passed before. They might have known each other, but for all she knew he sought only her downfall at present. And she did have her orders. The best course of action, then, would be to escape or fight him, this strange boy who looked upon her as though he depended on her very existence lest he expire. Though she couldn't really help but wonder, had she been such an important component of his life then that he had cause to gaze upon her so now? A number of heartbeats passed, and she felt strangely --- guilty? --- before she slowly shook her head no.
The boy's hopeful expression faded swiftly, his body seeming to deflate and his hands over hers becoming dead weight. Whatever his suffering, though, he did manage somehow to put on a foolish smile. "Then . . . perhaps that is for the best, much as I am loathe to admit. It may prove a good road to take after all, starting over; I might convince you to bear my child this time." That simple-minded smile overcame his face as he stroked her knuckles with his thumb.
What a ridiculous thing to say at a time like this. The girl glared. This boy was either insensible or ill. She was not concerned enough to determine which, if it was indeed just one thing. She ignored the feeling of course fibers chafing raw the exposed skin of her wrists, twisting her arm, and, little by little, loosening those cursed bindings under the pretense of escaping his hand-hold.
A wave of dizziness struck, turning the world sideways and blurring her vision. She shook her head violently until she could see clearly, and absently noted the young man's concerned statement. Her head ---
Her head ---
Sango . . .
didn't exist before I came to be
and that someday
the one who I am
will no longer be the one I am?"
As I own nothing but the inanity of my own mind, credit where credit is due:
Takahashi Rumiko - Inuyasha
Peter Hausen - Lied Vom Kindsein
Every Little Thing - "kiwoku"