A Quixotic Encounter
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The full moon shone bright, lighting the night's dark pall, its round surface reflected and fractured on the rippling surface of a nearby pond.
Silent feet padded gently on a wooden walk, the stirring of clothe on skin the only indication someone was passing the many empty rooms of the expansive mansion.
"Oh," whispered the still night air as crickets chirped and cicada's hummed. A breeze had come to life, ruffling trees' tops and flowers' petals playfully; a sign of life in the otherwise static garden. The shrines of wandering spirits remained unmoved as a shadow scurried past to a nearly inaudible symphony of pattering bare feet on dew covered stones.
"Kagome-sama," breathed out a reverent voice, an oil lamp in his hand alive with a cheery yellow-orange flame. The rustling of clothe and the gentle beat of beads stopped just behind the wandering shade, her hands dipped greedily into the cool liquid of an algae infested pond.
"Miroku-sama!" answered the sprite a grin over taking her face, made visible from the yellow orange flicker that danced happily along the contorts of her once hidden face. Miroku stumbled, his once steady hand tightening around the lamp. Kagome stepped forward a look of concern on her once youthful face, a wrinkle forming between her brows.
"It's been a long time Kagome-sama, don't you agree?" whispered Miroku conscious of the stillness of the night, a sad smile gracing his lips.
"It has," agreed Kagome with a melancholy sigh that told tales of hard years and even harder recollections. Miroku took hold of his old friend's arm, gently ushering her through the garden and back towards the protection provided by his reticent home.
"I think some tea is just what we need, in order to reminisce," informed the always perceptive Miroku and Kagome smiled that gentle smile of hers that melted hearts and forged new lives. Miroku's own included.
"That would be lovely; these old bones aren't nearly as used to late nights like they used to be, without a good cuppa tea at least."
"Right this way my lady," directed Miroku, and Kagome giggled, oh how she had missed her old friend. Miroku led her towards the open air walkway, pausing long enough to retrieve a wooden staff resting upon the house's outer walls.
"It's not quite what it was, is it?" asked Kagome as she reached out with time weathered hands, gently caressing the worn wood of a broken staff.
"Oh no, not at all, I had to pass the best part along to my first born, and in turn he had to pass it on to his first born," related Miroku as he held the broken staff in his free hand. The gentle tap of wood accompanying pattering feet and whispering clothes as the two continued their journey down their path.
"Oh Miroku, who was the lucky lady, and don't you dare tell me it was a passing village chief's daughter," warned Kagome, increasing the pressure on the arm she held.
"As a matter of fact, Kagome-sama, she happened to be just that," teased Miroku as he lead the way to a small area where ash was piled high as was the towers of precut wood, the space easy to see even in the obtuse light of a full moon, "only Kagome-sama you will be glad to hear that she wasn't just some passing chief's daughter, she was more permanent then that."
"More permanent then permanent, Miroku-sama, does not exist," retorted Kagome with a playful poke in the older gentleman's direction, "whomever she was, I am grateful to her, for she has managed to do the impossible."
"The impossible? Kagome-sama?"
"Oh yes, she has tamed you, Miroku-sama!" exclaimed Kagome and Miroku chuckled, she wasn't wrong he quietly assured himself.
"You always were wise above your years, Kagome-sama, and I see that even in your old age you still manage to say some of the most exceptional adages," said Miroku. Although she looked Kagome could not find the mocking tone of his statement, but she did not doubt one was supposed to be attached.
"Such flattery will get you nowhere with me, I have known you too intimately in the past to be fooled by it now," informed Kagome while Miroku gave another quiet chortle he had forgotten how willful she could be but he was glad old age had not dulled her blade.
The two finally concluded their voyage in front of a dying fire, the only sign of its continued life was the occasional flare of crimson flecks. Miroku spared not even a moment to reignite the flame, as he piled kindling and finely chopped wood overtop the ashes of fires long lost, gently coaxing a blaze to catch. Kagome was never one to be useless as she wandered around the growing fire and towards the empty metal kettle within the circle of the blaze's brightening light.
"The well is just behind you Kagome-sama, if you wouldn't mind filling that kettle up, I'm afraid my strength has begun to fade with my youth," requested Miroku. Kagome was certain that her old friend could still take on a full grown bear demon as well as an angry Sango all by himself, but she did not put up a fuss as she made her way towards the wooden well.
The rope bit into her hands, and the water laden pail was heavier then she imagined it should have weighed. So the time it took to fill the kettle felt like ages until Kagome finally managed to place the heavy kettle over top the merry inferno. Her job done, Kagome neatly kneeled herself beside her stargazing friend. His eyes trained on the night's stars even as Kagome's caught upon the sight of the moon.
"The moon is so very big tonight," whispered Kagome into the night air, a tranquility settling into her very bones.
"The sky tonight is also very clear," acknowledged the Monk, his legs crossed and his worn staff encircled by arms warped in voluminous sleeves. Kagome sighed in contentment; she could not remember ever feeling so at peace.
"Miroku-sama," began Kagome shyly. Miroku had never seen this girl—woman, he silently amended because she was no longer a girl and had not been one for a long time (if appearance was anything to go by)—do anything if not boldly, and so her actions made him curious as well as cautious.
"Yes, Kagome-sama," entreated Miroku, an encouraging nod of his head as he glanced towards the woman fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, out of the corner of his eye.
"What ever happened to… to… your ponytail?" asked Kagome, her gaze never leaving her lap. Miroku thought he understood what she was trying to ask; in fact, he was sure he knew what she wanted to know but he would not pressure her into asking such hard questions.
"I grew up, I suppose. Decided I needed a change, after all I don't think ponytails—as you call them—work well with white hair, do you?" asked Miroku trying to lighten his friend's downtrodden mood, he sighed when she didn't even giggle, he knew he would have to be the leader in this discussion, "Kagome-sama… he's…he's still out there somewhere, roaming the forests of Japan picking fights and waving around that sword of his."
"But, Miroku-sama… he never—he didn't—what if—," bubbled out of Kagome like a waterfall, Miroku could taste her tears in the air as if it were the spray of the ocean.
"Know this Kagome-sama, your soul and his are intertwined like two young trees growing towards the sun, if you do not met him again in this existence surely it is because you are meant to met him in another," comforted Miroku as he reached out his gnarled hand to grasp onto her own. Kagome sniffled as she brought their joined hands to her lips, gently kissing the ancient hand of her companion.
"I waited Miroku-sama you must believe, I tried so hard to wait for him to find me," whispered Kagome, a secret told in the wind of a night long forgotten.
"I know Kagome-sama," said Miroku, and he did. But Kagome was a soul meant to be treasured, the wait she endured must have been felt like a physical blow each day he did not return, and it broke Miroku in two to think of his precious friend waiting for a love that did not return, for one reason or another.
"You know, my husband reminds me a lot of you, Miroku-sama," informed Kagome with a teary smile, her fingers tracing senseless images into their conjoined hands. Miroku tugged gently and Kagome effortlessly fell into his side, her head finding his shoulder soaking in the comfort he could provide, the comfort she desperately craved.
"I knew I gave up the chase far too soon," teased Miroku his eyes closing in order to take in the weight of Kagome beside him, their heart hammering in sync as he was sure they must once have done in the past. Far too soon indeed, Miroku decided.
"I've—I've got to go Miroku, I'm sorry I couldn't stay for tea," Kagome murmured into the night and Miroku felt as though this separation from her would hurt far more then the first had. He had expected the first, but this— this was something he had not even thought to be prepared for.
"So soon?" he begged, it had been so long since he had seen her, could the fates really give her back to him for only a few short hours before they took her away, even before the setting of the moon? She did not answer and when Miroku opened his eyes to look at her face one last time, hoping to find it illuminated by the dying flames, he found she was already gone, as an apparition in the morning. Just as he predicted he felt his heart crack just a little bit more.
"Kagome, sweetheart it's time to wake up," breathed a silvery voice into the shell of her ear. She didn't want to wake up, she had been with Miroku and she was certain the tea was almost ready.
"No… no," mumbled Kagome swatting sleepily at the source of her recent wakefulness, "please Miroku, don't…"
"Kagome, it's just a dream, we need to get ready," calmly called the silvery voice once again, but still Kagome fought. She fought to hold on to the past, fought to remain at her friend's side, fought to stay asleep. She always was a fighter.
"Please, don't, he'll be all alone," murmured Kagome and her soul ached for Miroku, the man who had not been able to tell her of his victories and his losses or his wife or his life.
"It's okay Kagome, he's not alone," came the assured voice of the one that had once convinced her to marry him. Kagome sighed deeply when she felt the gentle caress of chapped lips on wrinkled skin. The final dregs of sleep escaping her as she finally opened her eyes to dancing violet orbs.
"Morning sleepyhead," said the man with a haunting resemblance to the one of her dreams. Kagome swept her gray hair expertly over her shoulder as she leaned into the arms of her husband.
"I dreamed of him again," she confessed her blue eyes watery as she remembered how alone he looked as she left him underneath the moonlight.
"Oh Kagome," her husband whispered as he tucked her under his chin, warping his arms around her securely. "You know how it turns out in the end."
"But he doesn't," whispered Kagome as she turned to her husband, his eyes so similar to Miroku's. Kagome gently leaned forward to capture his lips with her own; seeking comfort from a man that could scarcely fathom the depths of her sorrow for the family she had left in a time long past. Of that bad-tempered boy that just wanted to be accepted, of that lonely girl who fought so hard when all she wanted was to stop, of that parent-less child that just wanted to be a part of something great, or of that sad boy with a hole in his hand that wanted nothing more than to be loved.
She did take comfort however, because she did know how it would end. She took comfort because even if he did not remember her as the miko that had once helped save the past, it would end with him finding her.
The End