She had been kind, once.
In another life, when gold was the color of the sunset, breathing its life across the country side. When red was the color of blush she bought and never wore, hidden away in her dresser like a desperate woman's gun. In another life, fangs and claws belonged to wild animals, hidden away behind sturdy iron bars and foreboding trees.
In another life, she knew happiness in the eyes of her lover, in the way he held his hand and vowed promises. She knew joy when he pressed his knee into the ground, awkwardly fishing out the ring from his trousers. She knew disappointment when deep in her heart, she knew she couldn't say yes.
She knew relief when he shrugged and said he'd do whatever it took to change her heart.
But that was a life time ago, in a land with cherry blossoms and shrine doors. With a little sister smiling, teeth missing and joy bubbling. With a medical degree and formal miko clothing that wasn't tarnished.
Now red was the blood staining into the side of her clothing. Gold was what she saw everywhere, every time she blinked, every time she drew breath. Gold, the color of his eyes, gold, the color of his joy. Gold, the cold, imperfect, unyielding eyes that stared at her in shock, horror, disappointment. He whispered her name and she notched an arrow, aiming it at the heart that beat for her, only for her. He yelled her name, hands shaking and claws threatening to crack the surface of the jewel that demanded her life, her love, her soul.
She lets the arrow fly. His limbs refuse to move. Her heart refuses to beat, holding a breath, willing for her love to run. She begs the jewel of souls, the jewel of death, the killer of her dreams and breaker of vows to do anything, anything to bring her life back. To save her love from herself.
The arrow pierces his heart. The world turns and the jewel falls from his grasp, bouncing on the red stained grass. She falls to her knees.
She had been kind, once, she remembers. But that was a life time ago. Miles away, she hears her love whisper her name. She looks for him, in a world suddenly drenched in darkness and fear. Gold is in the distance, feeble as a flame in a storm. She stops fighting, stops looking, and gold consumes her.
"Ow."
Kagome frowned, leaning forward to grasp her Grandfather's wrinkled hand. "What's wrong, Jiichan? Do you need a nurse?" Her other hand hovered on the nurse on call button, ready to send in the flood of worried women. But her grandfather only scowled, batting away Kagome's concerns.
"Now, now Kagome. The only thing that's hurting your poor, poor Grandfather is the fact I have no grandchildren! Will I really pass into the next life without at least ten?" Kagome narrowed her eyes, letting go of her beloved, innocent, dying Grandfather's hand. Yeah, he was fine.
Kagome leaned back in the sterile hospital chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "Jiichan, I'm only twenty. In this day and age it's respectable for a woman to be childless- especially at my age!" Her
Grandfather humphed like a child, looking away from his Granddaughter in mock distaste. Finally, he succumbed to laughter. "Oh, my love. Don't give me that look! I'm much more resilient than you think I am, you nay sayer. I'll be able to wait out the next two years until I have, at least, twelve grand children. You know this." And this time, Kagome laughed too. Laughed from her dear Jiichan's earnestness, laughed from the tubes, the wires, the beeping. Laughed to mask the tears in her eyes, knowing that he wouldn't last a year, much less two.
Her Grandfather rubbed her arm, a smile warming the tanned leather of his face. "Oh, how I look forward to that day, Kagome."
Kagome left the hospital after the head nurse Kaede came in and assumed control, tapping whichever buttons needed tapping. Once she pulled out the needle, Kagome stood and excused herself, making up a make believe dinner no one at home would be home to eat. Her fifteen year old brother Souta would be out with his friends, sleeping over, most likely. It's been hard to stay at home without the loud, shrill voice of their beloved Jiichan. Hard to pass by his room, knowing there was no one inside.
Truth be told, she hated being home as much as any one. She wanted to be back at school, getting her degree and getting a job in the local emergency room's pediatric ward as a nurse. But she couldn't. Not now.
"I'm home," she called. She listened for the shuffle of her mother's grief slowed movements. Hesitantly, her mom poked her head out of her Jiichan's room.
"Ah, Kagome," she said, smiling. "I was just..." she glanced at the sliding door. "I was just cleaning up for Jiichan's return."
Kagome looked at her mother's bleach stained finger tips, at the raw surface of her palms. She's been trying to clean out the sick, Kagome knew. "Let me make you something to eat, mama." Her voice was slow, hoarse.
If her mother noticed it, she didn't say anything. Her gaze simply softened. "That sounds fantastic, Kagome."
Two hours later, they ate in silence.
Kaede made her way down fluorescent hallways of her hospital, one eye surveying the too clcean floors and walls decorated with children's paintings. This one thing she had of her sister's. These hallways, these walls, these desks. Even the patients were from her sister, for each time she laid her hidden eye upon them, she saw her sister's blessing. The one's that lived, anyway.
Everything in this hospital came with her sister's markings, thirty years after her death. She and almost everyone she knew petitioned to have the name of the hospital changed from the bland, impersonal Tokyo Emergency Room to The Kikyo Emergency Room of Tokyo. After four years of petitioning, it was finally changed. All those who they saved within these walls was in Kikyo's name. All those who could not be was guided safely to the next world by her big sister. She knew this to be true.
She was thankful for all the things her sister had left her, even the eye she had took on the day of her death. She thanked the Kami each day for it.
However, however, however...
She turned on the light to the room without a number. Slowly, as though her foot steps would wake him, she drew near to the curtain.
There were certain things she begged Kikyo's reasoning on. Begged her to take back from these sacred walls, this holy place. Her prayers were never answered, not once.
She flung open the curtain to look at the man. Look at her sister's lover, look at her sister's killer. Her fingers moved against the barrier surrounding the arrow lodged in his chest. Thirty years he's been not alive and not dead. Thirty years he's looked youthful, still bearing the face her sister loved. Thirty years he's breathed while her dear sister rot in the ground, never to return again.
"I hope you die," she whispered, her own voice foreign to her ears. "I hope you die and rot in hell."
Kaede turned her back on Inuyasha, and went home to pray.