He looked at the spot where she had lain barely a week ago. The bed was neatly made,
hospital corners and all, but there was one small dent on the pillow. Only one last reminder she
had existed. To the rest of the family, it was business as usual. One more death of one more
tyrannical head of the family. She had essentially been slated for an early death as soon as she
first opened her eyes. They treated her like the god she was, but as soon as she had gone, she was
forgotten. He wondered vaguely if anybody felt like he did now. Would he be only one to miss
her? She had been such a bizarre and cruel person; it went without saying that she had inflicted a
myriad of physical and emotional wounds on every person she touched, him included. She had
despised him with a good ninety-five percent of her heart, but, still . . .
The entire juunishi spent their lives slaving against the curse that bound them, and the
being that they believed was the sole cause of their misery. The struggle was both relentless and
fruitless. They dashed blindly at her, never stopping to consider that she might be hurting too.
The curse's grip was tightest on God. Every savage word she hurled at them was a result of
something far beyond her control, beyond anyone's control. She was as weak and blind and
helpless as the rest of them; doomed to be nothing but a child for all of her brief, unhappy life.
Damn, how he missed her.