Disclaimer: I own a Playstation and a computer. Not much else.
Every Girl Needs a Good Cry
She sits on a hill over looking a small valley, the grass dampening her skirt. She has long since learned to ignore this. It is not the horror her contemporary friends view it as.
Her vision blurs a bit as she gazes out at the children playing some sort of game. Their young bodies soaking up the sun as they run from place to place.
In 500 years, where she is sitting will be the steps to her families shrine. Those children would be running carelessly in the middle of a busy road, the old woman who runs the fruit market yelling at them about the dangers of the city. Kagome lets a soft chuckle escape at the antics in her mind.
Perhaps that is why she chooses this spot over and over again. An attempt to glimpse her old life, if even for a second.
The well is now closed, and she would be the first to admit that she was homesick and lonely. She was disappointed that she never got the chance to say goodbye. After all her work, hadn't she earned at least that much? Maybe this was her punishment for breaking the jewel in the first place. She did not however, think of her family and friends as dead like so many of the others. She clung to the idea that even though she would never see them again, they would later be born, and so, still had their whole lives ahead of them.
She tried to take comfort in the fact that there were people here who cared for her as if she were their own family. People who understood. A delicate finger absentmindedly wiped away a stray tear. After all, good friends are simply family you get to choose. The children now seemed to be playing freeze-tag. A game she had taught them long ago between journeys. A rustle of fabric and a familiar jingle of rings approached closely to her left. Silence.
"May I join you, Kagome?"
Torn between politeness and her desire to continue her internal self pity, she conceded. After all he wouldn't have accepted "no" as an answer anyway.
She hazards a glance in his direction from beneath her lashes. He slowly adjusts his robes as he sits, and she wonders for the millionth time if they are as cumbersome and annoying as they sometimes seem.
She returns her gaze to the children. There was a time when her heart felt that light.
"You seem to spend a lot of time up here as of late." So he was going to skip the pleasantries. ,"It reminds you of home?"
For a second her breath caught.
"Yes. Yes, it does." Her mind pleaded with him to leave it alone. To be content with just that.
"You know Kagome, it is perfectly normal to grieve."
She could feel him looking at her, yet her gaze refused to leave the children. Silence stretched between them as her eyes attempted to fight off his words. Her hands returned to her face to erase the tears. Her eyes had lost.
"No, it isn't." She admitted before she could regain composure. "It's not okay."
From the corner of her eye she could see him studying her, as though he was looking at a part of her buried so deeply that only he knew it was there.
"Kagome," Her name a sigh," You have always been so strong for all of us. Taking on everyone else's problems with a smile. It's time to let us be strong for you."
"They are not dead, Miroku." Her tongue felt heavy, and her heart felt angry.
She felt a warm callused hand softly grip her own, "Our hearts grieve for more then just death."
And she cried. She cried for her mother, who would never know she was alright. She cried for her brother, who she would never see grow into a man. She cried for grandpa, who would spend countless months trying to unseal the well. Her tears turned into sobs. Her lungs fighting for air. No more bubble bath, soft pillows or real beds. No more Odon.
She clutched at something in front of her, and held on with everything she had as her heart relaxed, and her sobs slowly stopped. Her grip slackened and she briefly wondered what she had been holding onto. A hand wrapped with beads he couldn't seem to part with, rubbed small circles between her shoulder blades, feeling as though they were massaging out some of the knots in her heart. The heavy weave of his robes pressing into her cheek.
"Thank you." She murmured into his chest.
His hands still remained consoling.