Kikyou was born to give to the world. In her short life as a priestess, she had purified many souls. Everybody who came to seek refuge under her calming aura had returned smiling, cleansed of their sins.
Had she wearied of her burden? Perhaps, but she knew if she fell prey to human weaknesses, those who leaned on her would go astray like rudderless ships. For their sake she had to hold on, to be strong.
Day and night she performed the misogi to clean her body and soul, prayed to the kami to give her strength – not for her own sake, but so that she could perform the heavy task that was appointed to her. Her duty and destiny were to burn like incense at the kami's altar, emitting sweet perfume till she diminished into a pile of ashes.
Only once had she tried to form a bridge between her desire and destiny – to keep a pressed flower to her heart and not scatter it in the wind. The consequence was violent, leaving her soul restless and angry. She had not learnt her lesson – the kami was disappointed in her.
Then against her will, she was dragged back into the world – inside a clay body by dark magic. Her love had gone into the arms of another woman – her own reincarnation, her home now harbouring strangers, her nemesis haunting her every step, as the tiger stalks its prey.
Being a priestess was the last shred of her identity that she clutched at, in order to preserve her sanity. Little by little she gathered her purity – even inside a body reeking of death – slowly she turned away from dread darkness and journeyed towards heaven's light. She gave out hope again. She calmed all spirits that came in contact with her, without prejudice or judgment.
She had reached the last limits of her endurance when the boy bowed before her. In his eyes there was so much pain – no, much more than pain. Remorse there was, and anger too; horror and guilt contended with each other; sins of the past, fear of the future, despair in the present.
Kohaku…meaning amber. The boy was not unlike her. He would either be a medicine to heal and protect others, or he would burn up to produce perfume for the world. In either case he would get nothing for himself. Did she have it in her to save this boy and give up her long cherished desire for revenge? For a moment she hesitated, her desire and duty at loggerheads with each other once more.
"Please priestess, purify my sins," he begged before her.
That settled her inner conflict. One final time Kikyou steeled her will, one final time her reiki flared up. She was born to give to the world, not to have her own way. Nothing was hers – not even the sweet ecstasy of revenge. With a serene face she smiled at the boy.
In the sky, the Kami smiled at her.
