Looking at her image in her sword's reflection, she barely recognized the person she'd become.
Gone were the scraped knees and dirty palms. Her hair, once long and perpetually haloed by a crown of flowers, now hung limp, cut short around her shoulders. The gap-toothed smile and bright eyes had faded away to a worn expression of disillusioned acceptance. Her early life was far from forgotten, but sealed away in a dark corner of her mind. She'd long since come to the conclusion that holding on to the memories would only make her weaker. Either way, she'd never see him again. It was for the best to move on. For surely, she thought, he'd have forgotten all about her.
No matter how hard she tried, there were a few memories that resonated as clearly as if they'd just happened. She would never forget the moment she'd opened her eyes to see him stoically gazing down at her, that first day he'd saved her. Nor the tears in his eyes when he'd snatched her from death for a second time. She's confident that she's one of the only people to have ever seen her lord cry- no, she reminded herself, not yours. She tries not to think of him too often. When the memories come, it's too difficult to keep up her mask of indifference. Those are the worst days.
She can also distinctly remember her first impression of the village. The warmth from Kaede-sama, the tentative acceptance of the villagers- she was surprised by their lack of hostility towards her, for human kindness was certainly not something she was used to-, and the curious looks she received from the village children, peering at her from behind their mothers.
Most painfully, she remembers the sheer panic she felt when she realized she was being left there.
He'd explained to her that it was only for a short while. He was going somewhere dangerous, far too dangerous for her to accompany him. He sternly reminded her to be on her best behaviour, and to be grateful to her host and the villagers for taking her in.
She remembers how he stiffened when she threw herself into his arms, and how he softened and returned the hug moments later. She remembers the tenderness in his eyes when he'd looked back at her, silently nodded, and continued out of her sight.
The villagers had accepted her with open arms. Kaede-sama was surprised at how quickly she learned how to perform her chores, and before long entrusted her with more complicated tasks.
The villagers were charmed by her gentle kindness and polite manner. In due time, she began lessons with Kaede in healing. Kaede was pleased to discover that while not extremely potent, the girl did possess some spiritual power. Kaede doubted that she could ever hope to become a priestess, but did her best to encourage the girl.
Eventually, her lord returned. The villagers were wary of his presence, though they certainly reacted better to having a demon in their midst than almost any other person she'd ever encountered. He brought with him tidings of his victory, and a gift of a new kimono. He also brought news that broke her heart.
She was to stay in the village.
The next few months were a blur. She couldn't remember any particular occurrence. As far as she'd been concerned, her life was devoid of meaning. She spent the majority of her time in her room, and refused to come back. Looking back, she's somewhat embarrassed at her immaturity.
Every time he returned, she experienced immeasurable joy. Every time he left her once more, she returned to her depression.
Eventually, he stopped coming.
She had been sixteen years old when he told her he wouldn't be coming back. She'd blossomed, he said. He was proud of her. He knew this was for the best. He knew she'd be happier here. He hoped she'd understand.
She barely heard. Every word was meaningless, mocking her with his emptiness. She knew it just meant he didn't care. And she felt foolish, for somehow deep inside herself believing that maybe someday he would take her with him. That childish hope that she'd tried so hard to quash was finally stamped out.
Years ago she'd have pestered him to take her with him, which she did. She'd yammered on to anyone who would listen about her plans for the future. That he'd take her away, and they'd go have adventures just like they used to. They'd all be together for the rest of her days.
She'd been a stupid child, and thinking about it made her sick to her stomach.
He'd never really cared about her. She'd been an experiment, and as soon as he'd grown tired of having her around he'd pawned her off at the first chance she could get. He'd abandoned her, and she supposes that in retrospect she definitely could have ended up in worse hands.
At the very least, these people were good. They'd been kind to her, sheltered her, nurtured her, even loved her. She respected these people, but couldn't shake the feeling of discontentment she felt at being a part of their world. Because she knew she wasn't one of them. And over time, she realized she never could be.
Her life there was like an ill-fitting puzzle piece forced into place. She knew she could either stay in the village and waste away, or she could set off on her own and finally be free of this place, these people, this life, and maybe in time, free of her memories. And that's how she got into this mess.
