Kikyou
I watch as it drifts down slowly.
I bend and catch it before it hits the ground.
It catches the sun, so vibrant, its colour.
So…warm…unlike me…
I am merely a drifter,
The walking dead, a piece of spirit taken form,
I have no friends. I survive on souls,
Eating just those.
To think of the maidens who will never rest.
Until I do.
It sickens me.
And yet, when I pull an arrow out to stab my heart,
I find there is none, no pulse,
I am empty. Devoid of feeling,
No way to die, or survive…
Except the glowing, pulsing, souls.
I am so unlike them.
The dancing leaves around me,
Fluttering down to the ground.
Not a care in the world,
And yet, they still emit happiness.
How…?
I do not know, I haven't experienced …
…Happiness? Happiness… in so long…
There is just hate.
Not even real kindness.
Just instinct, from my old life.
Life? I can barely remember.
My days as a Miko for my village.
My younger sister… Kaede.
The half-demon… Inuyasha…
No! Not him. I can't think of him.
Another leaf comes down.
Shaped as a heart, it brings back memories.
My shaking hands make a slit down the middle of the heart leaf.
Though by accident.
I still smiled. So fitting.
Rich irony, I felt that way, so long ago.
Now, I don't have a heart for that to happen to.
I'm truly grateful for that.
It makes my existence… easier.
So much more easier to stand.
I can kill without mercy now.
I will wander. I will not turn back.
Not to my old life.
The one. That one.
The happy one.
I can't do that now.
I won't.
I refuse to.
Water leaks from my eye.
It falls onto the heart leaf.
Crying? Was I… Another falls.
Onto my hand this time.
I hadn't cried in so long.
I remembered a rush of hot salty tears.
But these were cold, tasteless.
Another bit for proof of my death.
But no matter.
Crying was weak.
It would not help me.
Not now.
The tears are gone as quickly as they came.
Another smile. Good. No tears.
And then I stand.
I have lingered too long.
I tucked the leaf into my Miko clothes.
I will keep it.
To remind me.
Of everything…
I forgot.
And then, with my soul collectors,
Behind me, trailing and floating.
I walk on.
There is nothing for me here.
In dancing, happy, lively leaves.
So I must leave.
To where? I do not know.
But I am a wanderer.
And wander I will.
