Warnings: None

Daughters of Destiny

Chapter 12:

"Stars on the Water"

Keiko peered into my face like an overly concerned, slightly maternal owl. Her hands grasped my upper arms, holding me out of the hot water lapping at my chin, and when I gasped at her proximity, she backed away with a gasp of her own.

I'm pretty sure I would've drowned (or at least inhaled half of the friggin' hotspring) had she not been holding me up—but that doesn't mean I liked the alarmed way she was still looking at me. Gratitude only goes so far when I'm totally embarrassed, I guess. I shoved off the bottom of the onsen and swam out a few paces, almost crawling through the shallow water in my haste to get away from Keiko.

"Are you all right?" Keiko called at my retreating back.

I stopped and turned. She leaned against the edge of the stone pool, milky water rising to the middle of her chest. Her long bangs had matted wetly to one of her cheeks, curling around her large brown eye as she stared.

"You were dreaming," she said when I didn't reply. "And it didn't sound nice."

"Oh," I said, because I didn't know what else to say. I looked down. My hair floated like tar on the surface of the steaming pool, tangled and coarse. "I'm—I'm sorry."

Keiko gave me an odd look, one that soon melted into sympathy. "Can I help…?"

I turned my back on her.

I had no idea what to say.

Lucky for me, Keiko is enough of a smarty-pants to know when to lay off, and she didn't make me say anything else for a little while. I let myself drift through the onsen's hot water in silence, scrubbing my hair as I tried not to look at her. I was a bit rattled, if we're being completely honest. It had been a long time since I'd dreamed about my family, and to dream of that night in particular was adding insult to injury. Most days I could forget about my past if I just didn't think too hard, but after reliving that stupid frat party, putting my old life into its little box inside my brain would be tougher than hell.

Despite threats of fratboy affection, that night had been one of the last good times that my sister and I shared. Then we'd had our ugly falling out over nothing, and we'd drifted even further apart, and then I'd gotten myself killed and reincarnated in the body of a fictional reincarnated schoolgirl-turned-priestess and all that crazy-as-fuck shit—

"Who's Abbot?"

She spoke softly, voice hardly louder than the lap of water against my skin. Seemed she hadn't been able to keep from prying, after all. I tried my best not to sigh, hoping that if I played it cool, she'd back off. Keiko meant well, but…

"What?" I said, playing dumb.

No dice. "Who's Abbot?" she repeated. "You kept saying that name in your sleep."

"Oh." I sank into the water until it covered my mouth, stopping just short of my nose so I could still, y'know… breathe.

"Your husband?" Keiko ventured when I didn't say anything more. "You told me you were married, though you don't talk about him much."

I sat up a little, water dribbling down my chin. "No, no. That was Manuel." Although I didn't want to get into it, something in me stirred. Words bubbled in my chest like Keiko had pulled them free with a magnet. "Abbot… she was my sister," I admitted, even though doing so hurt a lot.

Water sloshed as Keiko moved. "Sister?"

I swallowed. "Twin, actually."

"Oh, right. You mentioned you had a twin before." She hesitated. "But, uh…Abbot. That's an odd name for a girl."

I shook my head, still not looking at her. "It wasn't her given name. She was Abbot, I was Costello. Dad taught us some of their routines when we were kids. Their 'Who's on first?' gag and all that. Eventually the names just stuck." I shrugged. "He thought it was funny."

Keiko chuckled, apparently in agreement with my dad for whatever reason (god, she's such a grandma at heart sometimes). "So your obsession with nicknames isn't a new thing, huh Tigger?" she said.

"Nope," I said. "Not new, Eeyore. Very definitely inherited." And even though I wanted to shut up, again words seemed to scratch and claw their way up my neck and out my mouth. "I, uh—I don't remember her real name," I blurted. "My sister's, I mean. I don't remember it. Like you and I don't remember our names, I don't remember hers. It's just… gone. Not in my head anymore." I mimed my head exploding, hands flying with a spray of water. "Poof. Fairy dust."

My little joke at the end didn't distract Keiko, though. Her eyes narrowed as she sat up straighter, and it was obvious to me that wheels were turning in her head.

"Do you have any other missing names?" she asked with undisguised interest.

"Just hers and mine." I scowled and moved some wet hair out of my eyes. "Which is why I try not to think about her much if I can help it. It's depressing."

"Right. OK." Even the ever-curious Keiko knew better than to press, it seemed, because she offered me a sympathetic smile. "Subject change?"

"Please," I told her, and Keiko went to the races and ran ahead—verbally, that is. At once she started yakking about a conversation she'd had with Kaede while I was asleep in the damn bath (ugh, what was I, a toddler?). We were to be honored guests that night for some sort of festival and feast, blah blah blah; I didn't really have the heart to get excited. It was too depressing to think about my sister. We'd grown so distant before our falling out, but remembering that one night of togetherness, that one mad dash down quiet streets, holding hands in solidarity before she took the fall for me with our parents… it really made me wonder whether if, had I not gone and kicked the bucket so early, we could have had some sort of reconciliation. Eventually, anyway.

I was dead to her now. Reconciliation was officially out of reach.

If Keiko noticed that I was feeling down in the dumps, she had the good sense not to go pointing it out to my face. She kept up a steady stream of chatter even as we got out of the bath and dried off, dressing in the robes Kaede had brought us. Every now and then, though, she'd fall quiet, and when I looked over to see what was wrong, I caught her watching me with worry in her eyes. Not that that's unusual for her, but I pasted on a smile anyway just to keep her happy.

It wasn't like both of us could afford to be all distracted and mopey, right? Best limit it to just me and let Keiko take point on the rest of our night. And besides. I needed to hang back and avoid Kaede, anyway.

Once we got dressed, we left the onsen and headed back into the village. The square glowed with the light of torches, not to mention the silvery essence of the stars and moon above. Long tables full of food sat in the center of the square; beside them sat other tables, these covered in the smooth paper we'd liberated from the clutches of the demon bandit Yoko Kurama (it was still fuckin' cool that we'd met him, my sour mood notwithstanding). People stood alongside these tables eating or folding paper boats, and they chatted, laughed and sang with one another as a cool breeze wafted through the heady summer night. It was a scene of merriment, the entire village coming together to celebrate something, and while Keiko watched all of this with a grin on her mouth, I found it much harder to smile.

And then I found it hard to function at all when Kaede's croaking voice called for us from across the square. She came walking up surrounded by a retinue of village children and men in wooden sandals, smiling as she bowed low to each of us in turns. Keiko followed suit and bowed back; I mimicked her lead, but mostly so I could drape my damp hair over my face and try to hide myself from Kaede. If she recognized me, she didn't say anything. She just looked us over with a thoughtful nod, her only remaining eye shrewd as it skimmed us from top to bottom.

"The clothes suit ye well," she decided after a time. One gnarled hand gestured toward the tables bearing the paper. "If ye will accompany me yonder…"

I normally would've giggled at Kaede's archaic speech, but just then, I didn't have the heart. In silence I let Kaede lead Keiko and me to one of the tables, where a woman in a brown yukata handed each of us a sheet of paper. The paper was thick and soft, with light texturing and slight irregularities that said it was definitely handmade. No factories in this day and age, that's for sure.

Kaede took a leaf of the paper between her fingers and folded it in half, and then in half again in the other direction.

"To honor our dead, we fold paper boats to guide their souls home after an eve of wandering." Her breath came as softly as wind in linen sails, hands working confidently and with reverence. "Hold the memory of your beloveds in your heart as you shape boat from paper, and know your love will reach them in worlds flung far from here."

Keiko dutifully observed Kaede as she completed her origami boat. Kaede then guided Keiko fold by fold as she began to construct a boat of her own; she murmured instructions, occasionally ghosting her fingers over the back of Keiko's hands in silent tutelage. Keiko's eyes were lidded, face serene as she crafted her boat, and soon a vessel (slightly mussed, but serviceable) sat on her upturned palms.

I folded my own boat, too. It came out more misshapen than Keiko's—and I had to wonder if Abbot would've folded a better boat than both of us. She was a perfectionist, and as I turned my boat over and over in my hands, I wondered if she would settle for a boat as lopsided as mine.

She would never settle for my lopsided boat.

Out of nowhere, tears pricked my eyes.

"You OK?"

Keiko had slipped into my shadow with the silence of the grave, but her hand felt real and warm as it descended onto my shoulder. I scrubbed my face on my sleeve and stepped away, taking a shaking breath as I turned to face her.

"Oh, I'm fine," I lied with a cheery, wobbly grin. "Just got somethin' in my eye, that's all."

Keiko looked unconvinced, but she said nothing. She just reached for my hand and took it as around us the crowd began to murmur, turning toward the stone steps leading up to the temple at the top of the village. Swept up in the tide, Keiko and I turned, too.

Kaede must have left us at some point, because she stood at the top of the steps with a gohei in her hand. She waved the wand with its streamer of zigzagged paper back and forth, back and forth as she descended into the village square, chanting in ancient, mumbling Japanese with every step. Children carrying incense and lanterns followed in her wake, and once she reached the bottom of the steps, the children skipped past her to lead the way through the square toward the village's front gate. Soon the entire square dogged their steps, villagers carrying paper boats, baskets of food, and lanterns with them into the night's velvety dark beyond the township's walls.

Keiko and I followed, too, swept away on their merry tide. Someone in the crowd played on a flute, keeping time to the beat of our feet on the ground. Call me dense, but for a little while I had no idea where we were going. I didn't particularly care, in fact. I just tipped back my head and looked at the stars wheeling overhead, counting the occasional shooting star streaking through the firmament, listening to the sounds of the wind and the flute weave as softly into one another as the grass felt against my bare feet, tasting the sweet night air and cloying incense on my tongue.

The stars were brighter in the past—closer, almost, like I could reach out and rake my fingers through them. No light pollution without electricity, I guess, and no smog to drown out their glow.

We were walking to the river, of course. The paper boats were the main clue. We reached its banks in perhaps half an hour, silver and grey under the light of the moon and too-close stars, but Kaede held up a hand before anyone could approach the shore. The children instead ran ahead and placed lanterns and incense along the riverbank, lining it with golden light that reflected brightly on the ripple-soaked surface, flame playing with the paler reflections of the stars overhead. The children lined the river for a few hundred feet, pockets of illumination beating back the encroaching dark enough to make the wild, wide river seem like a beast of old tamed at last.

Recognition stirred somewhere in my chest at the sight of it and at the sound of Kaede's continued chanting. For Keiko, however, the sight was foreign. She leaned down to whisper lowly in my ear, voice tinged with uncertainty.

"What's she doing?" she said, looking at Kaede where she stood some yards ahead, between the crowd of waiting villagers and the river.

"An o-bon ritual," l muttered. "I've seen Jii-chan perform something like it at—"

One of the villagers shushed us.

I stopped talking.

As if summoned by interruption, Kaede swung around to face us, the strands of her gohei streaking through the dark like wisps of cloud. Her voice rose to a fever pitch, the flautist in the crowd ceasing to play as Kaede's words climbed louder and louder, rising toward the starry sky until they rose to a great, unintelligible crescendo—and then her arms flung outward, gohei cracking like a whip through the dark.

At the sound of that violent crack, the air above the river exploded with glowing lights, myriad tiny suns rising in perfect unison.

There were a few hundred of them, by my estimation, filling the air above the river. The lights weren't large, but each glowed brightly and steadily, the same golden color as the paper lanterns the children had carried to the river's edge. Each throbbed at its white-hot heart like the pulse of a living creature, luminescence fading into gentle golden radiance that sparkled with rainbow refraction at their edges. The villagers cried out when they saw them, voices lifting in wonder and in joy. For some reason it surprised me that they weren't scared of the lights. To me they looked very much like will-o-wisps from storybooks, creatures that made a habit of luring people off into the dark and to their dooms.

I hadn't witnessed too many supernatural things in my short life. Not yet, anyway. But even to my untrained eyes, I knew this had to be something way, way outside the ordinary.

Jii-chan's o-bon ritual was nothing like this one, that's for sure.

For one thing, there were never any lights—and for another, most people didn't cry when he hosted an o-bon festival.

Around me, inexplicably, many of the villagers had begun to weep.

Kaede's eye traveled across the mass of villagers. Behind her the lights drifted and bobbed on the breeze, floating as aimlessly above the water as dandelion down. The lights had cast her into imposing silhouette, but I could still see the softest of smiles cross her lips as she looked at each and every villager in turn.

"Tonight," she said, voice like wind in the trees, "the barrier between the real of the living and of the dead is at its thinnest. Tonight, we honor the spirits of our ancestors. Tonight, bask in the light and take comfort in the warmth of those who have departed—for when midnight comes, they will leave us once again."

Her eyes closed.

She lowered the gohei.

The adults rushed toward the riverbank, their hands outstretched—outstretched to what I now recognized as the souls of their kin, missed, departed and revered.

Not that many of the kids understood why many of the adults were crying. Ah, to be an oblivious kid again, am I right? They just played and chased each other near the water's edge, ignoring their elders as some adults waded into the stream. Lights peeled off from the mass above the river, floating down within arm's reach of the waders to hover silently before them. From a distance I couldn't hear what was being said, but I caught the sound of words on the breeze as the villagers spoke to those who'd left them behind.

I watched in fascination for a few minutes.

Then, beside me, Keiko made a strangled sound of unabashed astonishment.

She stood with hands limp at her sides, eyes as wide as dinner plates. Her jaw hung loose, mouth left comically open, tension evident the vein pulsing in the side of her long neck. Her mouth opened and shut a few times, chewing on empty air like it was full of bones and gristle. She looked flummoxed, to call a spade a spade—and then it hit me.

"Keiko," I said. "Can you—?"

"I—I can see them. The spirits." Finally she tore her eyes away from the river and the golden lights, desperation sparking in them like flames. "Those are spirits, right?"

"I guess so."

Footsteps crunched over the rocky ground before I could continue, and then Kaede appeared at Keiko's side. She chuckled at Keiko's half-distraught, half-WTF face, folding her hands behind her back as she turned to face the river, too.

"To you they look as naught but golden light, I suspect," Kaede said in her ancient, creaking voice. "To those who knew them, they appear as they did in life. They are seen for what they truly are." Her smile turned bitter with sympathy, voice turning oddly gentle. "Though your ancestors walk not among the souls of our village's dead, I pray thee take comfort in knowing your ancestors, too, walk the mortal realm this eve."

My chest panged—an invisible knife to the heart that sucked the breath from my lungs, though for a minute, I couldn't figure out quite why.

Kaede swept her hand forward, toward the river again. Men and women were laying out blankets and setting up baskets of food and drink, festival getting back into full swing now that the spirits had been summoned.

"Go," said Kaede. "Eat and be merry. At midnight, our boats will guide the departed to the afterworld." She nodded at the paper boats Keiko and I carried. "Perhaps upon the bows of your ships, your loved ones will hear that which lies within your hearts."

With that, she left us.

Keiko said nothing at first. She just stared at the river, silent as bittersweet sobs drifted up from the glowing water.

Me, meanwhile? That knife in my heart kept twisting, paper boat crumpling as my fingers began to shake.

"What do you suppose they did for us?" I murmured.

Keiko flinched, eyes still locked on the spirits. "Hmm?"

"Our families." Breath shuddered in my throat. "What did they do for us when we…"

She knew what I meant. Her head shook once, firm. "Best not to think about it."

"But I am thinking about it. I can't help it." Teeth clenched as tight as my fist. "My sister and I weren't speaking when I bit the dust."

That got her to look at me. Her face jerked away from the river, features twisting with a spasm of empathic pain. But the look just made me feel small, and it was my turn to look at the milling spirits.

"We had a fight over… I don't even remember over what." The lights burned brightly, stinging my eyes—or was that the sting of unshed tears? "I keep trying, but I can't freakin' remember what we were fighting about." My lip quivered. "It had to be something dumb, y'know? Too dumb to even remember clearly."

Keiko said nothing. We watched as a woman broke away from the festival picnic and waded a few yards into the river. She held her sleeve to her mouth, and when a light flew down to join her, she sank to her knees in the star-spattered water. I couldn't help but wonder who she must be seeing reflected in that golden light.

Beside me, Keiko hummed under her breath—a tune I didn't recognize.

"Or maybe we didn't even have a fight," I said, voice dipping low. "Maybe we just drifted apart. Maybe there wasn't some big moment that put a wall between us. The wall stacked up, stone by stone, little slight by smaller misconception, until the wall grew too high to overcome." The unfairness of it all lit a burning, searing fire in my stricken throat. The paper boat collapsed in my fist. "Why didn't I call her? Why didn't I reach out? Why didn't I ask her for forgiveness before I—?"

Keiko was shaking her head, shushing me, reaching for me to try and offer a comforting hug. "I'm sure she forgave you," she said, voice full of soothe, but all it did was piss me off.

"Why?" I asked, dancing out of reach. "You think she forgave me 'cause I died?"

Keiko froze. "I didn't say that."

"But you meant it." The laugh tasted cruel on my tongue. "Because no one speaks ill of the dead, right? And we're dead as fucking doorknobs."

She didn't reply. Her hands just dropped, offer of a hug going slack at her sides along with her limp fists. Apology colored Keiko's eyes from pupil to lash, mouth twisted in a frown of impotent regret. That frown was a pinprick on the balloon of my emotions, deflating the anger in my heart at once.

"Sorry." The grumble sounded petulant, even to me. "I don't meant to take it out on you." I waved at the spirits, at myself, at the whole damn situation. "I'm just…"

Keiko didn't try to tell me she understood. She merely turned back toward the river, arms wrapping around herself as if for warmth…but the summer night was balmy, even as she shivered.

"I wonder all the time about what happened to those I left behind." Keiko wore a thousand-yard stare, eyes seeing past the golden lights to places far beyond even this distant world. Soon her shoulders pulled back, neck lengthening as her posture straightened, pride tracing itself in the line of her jaw. "We can only live in a way that would make them proud, and trust them to take care of themselves without us. I have to believe they're doing fine without me." Her fists clenched into the fabric of her sleeves; her teeth clenched, too. "I have to."

Keiko and Abbot would've gotten along. The thought struck me like a bolt, undeniable and unavoidable. Keiko and Abbot would've gotten along very well. Both were strong-willed and smart. They'd butt heads, probably, but still. They would've been friendly rivals in school. Something like that. But my sister was as lost to Keiko as she was to me, and that friendship was doomed before it could ever hope to start.

The knife in my heart twisted again.

"My sister would do just fine without me." I could see her face in my head, smile smug and self-assured, painted across a face that looked exactly like mine and yet was so, so different. "She was doing fine without me even before I croaked."

Keiko winced. I kept going.

"Mom filled me in on what she was up to, and stuff," I said. "She did fine without me in her life. She was successful. She traveled and had a great job and people admired her. She was amazing. And I bet that when I died, she kept going." I tried to breathe deeply. Failed. "Bet she kept going and never once looked back."

My voice cracked.

Keiko reached for me again.

I pulled away.

"But I think—I think that if our roles were reversed, I…" My voice cracked again; I swallowed, eyes locked on my bare, dirty feet. "I don't think I'd be fine without her. Even when we weren't speaking, just knowing she was out there somewhere was enough. But to know she was gone? To know she was dead?"

Keiko made a noise in the back of her throat. I couldn't tell what it meant. But it got me to look at her, and when our eyes met, I smiled. I smiled because I could see my sister's face in my head again. I could see the photos my mom shared with me on Facebook, of Abbot at her environmental law firm, of Abbot off saving the world and protecting the planet like she had been born to do. Of Abbot kicking ass, like I always knew she would.

"Twins feel things, y'know?" I said. "There were days I'd wake up feeling sad, or happy, or lonely, and never for any reason. I think I was feeling her, somewhere out there in time and space." My smile quavered, but I wore it anyway. "Twins are two halves of the same whole. You cut her, and I bleed."

"You miss her," Keiko murmured.

It was all I could do to whisper, "More than anything."

Keiko tried to talk again, but I didn't want to hear it. There was nothing she could say to make me feel better, though I knew she'd damn well try. I just didn't have the patience for it. Instead I picked my way down the rocky, sloping ground to the river's edge, straightening the lines of my paper boat against my thigh with every step. It wasn't time to put my (pathetic, rumpled, inadequate) boat in the water, but to hell with it. I waded into the cold water up to my thigh, toes curling around smooth river stones for purchase, and readied my boat for launch as the current tried its best to drag me under.

Above me the spirits burned, their light as bright as a crowning dawn.

"I miss you, Abbot." The tears building in my eyes fell at last, dappling the boat, darkening the paper. I sniffled and tossed my hair, voice rising with belligerence because to hell with all this mushy crap. "I'd give anything to see you again, Abbot. You hear me, Abbot? I'd give anything!" I hollered, holding the boat aloft. "I just hope this dumbass paper-freakin'-boat can get the message to you, wherever you are, and—"

Costello.

I froze.

Warm light bathed my face.

I looked up.

One of the lights hovered before me—near enough to touch, but at a distance still. Its golden color and the sparks of refracted light at its edges were even more beautiful up close…but was it just me, or did this light seems smaller than the others, somehow? It was hard to tell with it so close to me. It seemed to cover the whole world, even if it looked a little dim. It blotted out the sight of the river and the reflection of the stars on the water, filling my eyes with nothing but glittering gold.

Dimly, I heard Keiko call my name.

Clearly, I heard a different, familiar voice call me by another, familiar name.

Costello!

There came a terrific splash, then, and the sensation of falling forward gripped my stomach—and I was flying. I was flying upward toward the stars and the golden lights, soaring into the night sky so fast and so far, I could do absolutely nothing to resist that siren call of my true, forgotten name.

All I could do was turn and look back, briefly, to where I had just been standing.

My body lay in the river, face blank, hands clutched around a fragile paper boat, the light of a thousand stars reflected in my cold, dark eyes. An electric charge of panic coursed through me—

COSTELLO!

The panic faded.

A sweet ache settled in my heart.

I heeded the call of my name, and I allowed myself to be dragged down the path of the winding river toward—somewhere.

NOTES

Well shit. This certainly doesn't look good.

And next chapter we'll be back to Keiko's POV.

This shit has been sitting HALF FINISHED on my hard drive for MOOOONTHS. But I have to get back in the updating game somehow, so I figured I could knock this out and jump back in. Thanks for reading. Sorry this is taking so long.

Fun Fact: This chapter is named after a song from a George Strait album my father REFUSED TO STOP PLAYING IN THE CAR when I was like 10 years old or something and I've never forgotten how much I hate it. That's what Keiko was humming in this chapter, just so y'all know.

Many thanks to those who chimed in last time. Was really happy you liked learning more about Kagome's past. Here's to you: Guest of a guest, YourHomeGirlJen, Viviene001, Biku sensei sez meow, Arkytior's Song, IronzDBZ, LadyEllesmere, rya-fire1, zukushimika!