Dear Suichi
It's been awhile since I wrote. Writing these letters has become harder. My hands shake, splotching the ink. But now my grip is steady and firm, which is strange. I suppose it's because this is the last letter I'll be writing.
I can't believe it. After twenty years, these silly letters will come to an end. So where should I start?
I see Yui almost every day. She visits after college. You would be proud. She's twenty-four now and has your eyes. Not the color, they're brown as Shizuru's. They hold the genius, the calm, and the collected. She reminds me so much of you. She asks why I get misty-eyed, and I can't tell her why.
She looks at me oddly, trying to decipher my thoughts, and it irks her that I learned to barricade my mind. It thanks to you for teaching me that.
Shizuru is also doing well. Sometimes I can see a hint of loneliness when she and Yui stop by for dinner. But she's happy a lot of the time, so don't worry, ok? She finally owns her own beauty salon, and I'm very proud of my daughter-in-law. Kazuma's wife, Yukina, helps out. She's such a sweet girl.
We all miss you. Yui will sometimes hold your wedding photograph. She contemplates the red haired man next to her mother, and asks me if you were a good person.
I said yes, of course.
I've been thinking. I haven't been able to bring myself to write these things before. I suppose now is the time.
In a sense, I've always known. Not about the demon, but the sense that you were different. I could hear you sometimes. Sneaking out and whispers in the dark. You had odd friends, especially that Hiei fellow (who I haven't seen in years.) I should have see through all of those "school trips" and "tutoring delinquents." I didn't want to. I wanted you to remain my darling Suichi. The day Yusuke, Kazuma, and Hiei came by, solemn and sad, I was terrified. You stepped out behind them, coated in bandages and cuts. I knew right then and there that you were different from the Suichi I knew and raised yet the same kind man. I still love you.
My neighbors think I'm ridiculous to write these letters. They keep telling me that the dead are too busy in heaven. Then why do my letters keep disappearing?
Know what I love you no matter who you are or where you reside. You are my precious son, not even demons can deny me that.
See you soon,
Mother
Kurama folded the letter and placed it on his bedside table. "Thank you, Botan for bringing her letters."
The ferry girl bounced her way next to the kitsune, standing next to him while he sat. "No problem. I was surprised though, she hadn't written one in five years."
Kurama only stared as his palms—the same hands he has accomplished so much with. He thieved not only jewels and priceless artifacts but lives as well. But he also grew daisies for his mother and danced with his wife. Too many emotions caught up in two simple body parts.
"Do you know which gate she'll go through?"
"I can't say for sure."
He opened and closed his hands, sometimes seeing blood that he lived and died for. He had been for years, with no escape this time. Not being able to see his mother…
"Damn."
Too let down her last words… What an unforgivable son.