I don't own Kannazuki no miko
I just thought that this could make a good story and decided to type it up...Chapter 1
Memories
A trip to the Ogami shrine seemed to be having more of an emotional than educational effect on a certain girl. Walking through the dimly lit caves leading to the main shrine, Kurusugawa Himeko lagged behind. Somehow, her surroundings seemed so familiar. Though the junctions leading to the shrine itself were complex, and the class would undoubtedly be lost within minutes if it wasn't for Ogami Kazuki leading them, the girl felt like she could easily navigate herself though the taverns and reach wherever she wished to go.
"Hi-me-ko! Hurry up!" From a good few feet in front of her, an impatient athlete hollered over her shoulder. The yell echoed throughout the tavern. Shaking of the strange, almost homely feeling, she hurried foward to join her friend.
"You've always got your head up in the clouds!" Rolling her eyes, Saotome Makoto sighed as her only answer was a distant mumble. Matching her pace for a few moments, Himeko let her gaze wander to the walls surrounding them, a few flaming torches, straight from a cliche` horror movie, hung on either wall every twenty feet or so, providing less light than was needed. The dirt path beneath their feet kicked up a small cloud of dust when Mako scuffed her toes against the ground. She ceased when she saw the mess she was causing.
"Hey, look! It's the shrine ritual thing!" Grabbing her arm and pointing to their left, the aubrun haired a girl looked in fascination at the shrine itself, a ceremonial fire clearly situated before it, a roaring blaze once searing away, though now it was long extinguished. Though she doubted that was what held her friends attention so well. Around the path leading to the charred spot on the floor, swords and broken blades jutted from the ground, seeming to be burried deep. Swords mostly hidden deep in the earth, only a few inches of the actual blades was shown. Some stuck straight from the ground while others jutted at odd angles, clearly blunt.
Dragging her closer, Mako appeared eager to gain a better look. Looking excited, the athlete spoke eagerly. But her words wern't heard. Himeko's eyes widened and her throat went dry as she looked at the shrine. A girl...white robes edged with crimson...a miko? Why did she look so similar to herself? Clutching a sword that appeared to be made of straw, she could see that the young miko was chanting something. A ceremony? In the haze that had desended her vision, the scorched suddenly earth blazed, flames dancing high enough to brush the roof. However, the miko didn't seemed at all fazed, besides from a slight wince from being so close to the fire. Wait! There was someone else...On the other side of the flames, the end of another robe became once again, but this time edged with a deep purple. Another miko, but who-
"Hey! Are you even listening to me? God, I give up with you!" Turning in a fake huff, her friend stormed of. She was expected to follow. To apologize. Then her friend would laugh and slap her on the back, joking about her day dreaming. But Himeko couldn't follow. She wanted, no, needed to know who the other girl sight was unfocused, almost like a far of memory. Her focus fading away, she squinted, trying frantically to see who the other person was. Stepping foward, she rested her right hand some form of bar, leaning closer. It was too risky to walk to the extinguished fire in the hope of seeing things clearer, for it could scatter the vision away.
The other miko was moving, yes, almost in her line of vision...Taller than herself, and she could just about catch a glimpse of long, dark hair. Closer, she needed to get closer. She strained herself foward...and lost her grip. Her hand slid down, and a searing pain raced through her palm. A startled yelp tore from her throat, and she pulled her hand away, standing straight.
Looking up, she saw what had happened. Apparently, she had been gripping a blade this whole time. But the blade was blatantly blunt. Coated in a thick, copper rust, there was no way that it could have cut through her palm like a razor through hot butter...Then why was scarlet blood dripping onto the ground beneath her? Why did she feel so very, very dizzy? Opening her fist, she looked to the wound. She gasped. But the gawping slit starting at her plam and running to her fingers wasn't what surprised her. Purple. Purple was seeping towards the gash. Before an attempt to brush the mystery substance away could be made, it leaked into the cut. Agony. Pure and painful agony rushed though her entire body. She screamed as she felt her legs go weak and darkness settled in.
Semi-conscious, she could feel the dull throb of pain as something soft was pressed against her hand. Faint murmurs.
"What's going on! Let me...What happened?" Someone dropped to the dirt beside her.
"I'm not certain, I heard a scream and when I reached her, she was like this. She's slit her palm quite badly and I think the pain was too great for her to bare." A calm voice replied to the uneasy other. Vaguely aware of being held, an arm around her waist and holding her up, while another seemed to be holding her wounded hand. Leaning against someone in a firm hold.
"Will she be okay?" The reply to the worried voice was a groan. She stirred.
"Himeko?" A soft voice questioned, trying to coax her back to consciousness. Leadened eyelides opened halfway. A nervous athelte sprawled by her feet, chewing her lip. A childhood friend standing awkwardly near, looking down upon her with great worry. Concerned blue eyes gazed at her intently, their owner tightning her grip around her waist. Images flashed though her mind, distant and hard to see. Himemiya Chikane, a good few years younger than she was now, perhaps thirteen or a year or so younger, hair tied back and dressed in tennis whites, clutching a trophy, grinning in victory.
Another memory, a poetry recital...Japan's champion. Kendo tournaments...Archery, martial arts sparring...The rose garden where they first met, the surprise of someone finding her secret place where she hid during lunch, the agravation of knowing that she could no longer go there, the relief of finding someone who wasn't intimidated by her status. The strange, unknown feeling as she grasped the mysterious girls hand in her own as Chikane helped the girl to her feet. The bliss of talking to someone normally, without a care in the world.
"Chikane chan..." Her eyes dropping shut once more, Himeko went limp.