A/N: A side-story of sorts from the Kojiki Trilogy. Because you can never let go completely.
He would remember. . .
"Hey dad."
He didn't look up, merely patted the spot next to him and she obliged easily, tucking in her stocking-clad feet with lithe grace. With the ease and familiarity that spoke of years of routine, she had nestled herself under his arm, cheek pillowed on his chest and his other hand brushing back the soft dark bangs, so like his own but not.
They sat in silence for a while, each content in their own way. He was at peace with himself, with the fine day to be had and the rhythmic tinkling of the little clappers of the glass wind chime. She was at peace with the joy of being young and in the prime of her beauty and power, in the love that was readily shown in pale blue eyes, eyes which she longed to have because she wanted to be everything her father was.
"I wish this day can last forever," she murmured and her father cupped her cheek gently, thumb rubbing little circles.
"Aa, I know what you mean," he said softly.
She didn't want to look up. Not yet. All she wanted was to stay like this till time ended. Stay and be protected. Stay and listen to the steady beating of his heart and match hers to his.
As if on cue, the previously spring-blue sky darkened, faster than any storm wind could and the trees withered and died, the grass from lush green to winter brown. Birds croaked a song of despair and the wind stank of rotting meat and brimstone.
She closed her eyes (a pale gray which she so wanted to be blue). "I have to go now daddy." She couldn't help that childish term because no matter how she aged and how many years flew past, he was and still is her daddy. The one who comforted her when the bogeyman pounced out of the darkness of her cupboard, the one she ran to when she fell and scraped her knee, when she won first prize in the talent show.
"Not yet, please."
She could pretend that he wasn't crying, that she wasn't crying. Because he was her daddy and she was his little girl and she never wanted to hurt him, no, deep inside so deep inside where the darkness failed to penetrate entirely, she never wanted it to happen, she never wanted to be his little girl who sent mommy to hell and she never wanted him to be the daddy who sent his little girl to hell.
"I love you daddy. I've always loved you."
And every time Kyo wakes up from that dream, that particular dream that always came when rain and thunder and lightning lashed the perfect land of Meifu, in that split-second between dreaming and waking, he would remember his little girl and he would remember how the sword slid oh so easily into her flesh and how the thud of hitting bone jarred his arm and in that split-second, he would weep for his little girl.
Because a parent should never have to watch his child die.
In memory of those who suffered or died when they shouldn't have.