Wilting Petals
She could feel his eyes on her. He was sitting in the same position, as he did every night, making her wonder if he got any sleep at all. There was no need to peer over her shoulder to confirm he was there, silently watching from afar as he had always done. She understood his reasons. Her heart was aching with desire and hurt, perhaps even betrayal. The sadness she felt could not be lifted from simple gestures or words. At least, not from him.
No, he was not the one who caused her such pain, so he could not be the one to ease it. They both knew that. Instead he observed her quietly, longing to comfort her from a distance. But even after all that they'd been through, she was unable to let him close enough to her heart to heal such wounds.
"Sango," he whispered through the dark shadows of their hut.
Her eyes did not waver from the object before her. She reached out a hand and delicately stroked a single petal, no longer a velvet white. "Its been many days since he last came," she mused into the silence. Her auburn eyes glazed over in memories.
Moonlight crept through the cracks of the doorway, casting an eerie glow upon her face. The man behind her sighed. In all of his years of living and acquiring wisdom, he couldn't find the words to soothe the broken woman before him. He stood up from his seated position and shuffled over to where she knelt.
He sat beside her, looking at the small bowl of white orchids. Their stems folded neatly into the shallow pool. The pristine color the flowers usually carried had faded to a light yellow. Folded over from days without soil-induced care, the petals drooped over the side of the bowl before falling softly to the dirt floor.
Sango bit her lip to hold back the sting of tears against her eyes. "Miroku ... " she mumbled, trying to voice her concerns to her husband.
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her head to his chest. "He promised he would return before the flowers die," Miroku soothed, recalling her brother's words. "Keep hope, dear, for in your heart you know he would never abandon you."
She sniffled at his reassurances, but otherwise did not respond. A few days after Naraku's demise, Kohaku had decided to leave them to become a great demon slayer like his people. Since then, she hadn't heard or seen from him. But every so often, she would find a bouquet of white orchids near her door, letting her know he was alive and well. The signs were greatly appreciated and she was happy to learn of her brother's prosperity. However, unable to hold him in her arms or hear his laughter was slowly killing her from the inside out.
Sango rubbed the small bulge of her stomach gently. It would only be another cycle of the moon before her first child was born. Would she be able to stop missing Kohaku to leave time for her children?
A sigh escaped her lips as drowsiness caught her unaware. Quietly, Miroku stood up and made his way to their mat, patiently waiting for his wife to finish her nightly duties. She stood soon after and turned away from the dying flowers, preparing to join her husband in bed. But something stopped her movements.
Soft footsteps fell just outside their hut, barely noticeable to the human ear. However, being a demon slayer who had practiced with stealth, Sango could easily pick up the slight stirs. Her eyes narrowed and she turned to face the door with her hand reaching for a concealed weapon, watching as a shadow slid through the cracks of the bamboo covering.
Just as swiftly as the intruder appeared, he was gone. A quiet rustling of grass was his only goodbye. Curious as to what the person wanted, she paid no heed to Miroku's gaze as she pushed away the door, letting her eyes fall upon the village. "What is it, dear?" she heard him call from behind her.
Rational thoughts had left her. All she could do was stare at the small package at her feet. The pure white of the the flower petals glistened as they moved slightly with the morning breeze. "He came," she replied breathlessly, a smile tugging at her lips.
She stooped down and picked up her new bouquet of white orchids, taking in the fresh scent. Her eyes closed in remembrance, as it always did, while memories of a smiling boy running through a secret flower garden came to mind. Sango let her gaze roam toward the forest, expecting to see Kohaku staring back at her.
But her brother was not there. His scent had long since vanished and trying to recall what his voice sounded like was becoming rather difficult, even for her. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. As her gaze found the rising sun, her breath caught in her throat. If she squinted her eyes just right, she could see a familiar cat demon taking to the skies with a small boy upon her back.
As a tear slid down her cheek, she smiled.