Epilogue-
The tale was told, and there was no happy
ending for her.
In the silence of the dark room, a tiny form lay upon the ground, feeling her slender limbs stiffen and cease to flow with life. Having bloomed for herself, Kigiku's finely curled petals were shriveling, as were her exposed roots, open to the air and not kept moist in the earth.
So tired. So very, very tired. Close her eyes, fade away, colors washed out. From the rubbish she had been pulled, and to the rubbish she would return. Memories of the sunny meadow so many seasons ago were bleached away by their own brightness.
She opened one dull emerald eye and looked across the expanse of the floor. His face had changed since she had last seen it, but the man was still the same. "I had the shards," she told him, her melodic voice now the tone of a scratched whisper, licking dry lips. "I had them...why was I taken away? Why?"
"Shikon no Tama is at its most beautiful when darkened by hate or despair. Your jealousy and hate would have blended well with the despair of loss. You failed."
Kigiku closed her eyes, too tired to argue as he lifted her up. It was a familiar gesture, one he had made before, so long ago. For a moment, she hoped perhaps all was not lost; she only needed care. Water, sunlight. Kindness, perhaps, as well.
Instead, her world grew dark as she felt new
energies envelope her, thick and heavy and putrid, the smells of many youkai,
filthy, horrible, ugly youkai, overwhelming her senses and giving her only
a moment to gasp before she was consumed, holding onto that more hopeful
memory of being lifted....
There was a broken, tiny figure amongst the garbage that had been weeded away, a wilting flower amongst the fragrant, many-colored blossoms. Once she held her head high, proud of the beauty she possessed, letting all men gaze upon the fairness that had been graced to her by the gods. Though now, she lay in the rot of the dying and the dead, a smell of organic death surrounding her and reminding her of her own impending demise. Soon, she would add her own tiny body to the pile of trash, forgotten by those who once adored her, now that her loveliness was gone.
She remembered a time long ago, living in a meadow peacefully, silently drinking in the rain and sunlight, laughing with her pale white sister. Yes, her pale white sister, who then remained in their meadow, while others complimented her, bringing her to a fine home, making her magic strong from adoration and loving care.
The delicate, feeble limbs she possessed ached. She felt old and worn, aged though she had been cared for greatly in her life. Her pale white sister, who wept alone in their valley, had found a home at last...a home far better, richer and more beautiful than her own, for the eyes of a great lord had fallen upon her. She, the one found and admired first, had been passed over as merely another average beauty. Was she not as lovely as her sister? Not as soft? Not as fair?
She was discarded now, by those who once admired her. Thrown away as though nothing. The magic she held withered with the aging of her body, and she hated the form she now bore. She hated being thrown away, nothing more than a dead flower. A flower plucked from the earth that fed it never lasted long in the world of humans. And she hated them for it.
"It is good, to hate them."
Those words penetrated her sleepy haze, a rich, warm voice that slipped across her hearing. Good to hate? Yes, it was good to hate. It was easy to hate. She felt herself lifted up, and held lightly by a strong hand. Tiny eyes opened, and she saw a man's face meet hers, though she knew it was not the face of a man, but of something other. Perhaps another kind of creature could pull her from this miserable place. If she were free, then she could grow strong and beautiful again. Again work her magic, and again be beloved. Did this person know what she was? Who she was? She summoned her strength and met the man's red eyes. He, too, was beautiful. Darkly so.
"I was beautiful once. I could be again, if you take me from here."
Cupped in his hands, she closed her eyes, willing it to be true. She felt motion around her, and was lifted up and away from the rotting smell. Warm relief washed through her. He could still see her beauty, her delicacy, her perfection. "Arigatou," she said softly. "Arigatou...." The last words trailed as her mind slipped away into a deeper sleep, and it was several days before she awoke again and learned the name of her savior.
In the silence of the darkness he preferred,
he called himself Naraku.