If You Need Her
by Scribe Figaro
SESSION FOUR: BREATHE WITH ME
"I seem to recognize your face
Haunting, familiar yet I can't seem to place it."
- Pearl Jam, "Elderly Woman Behind the Counter in a Small Town"
They found no trial on this journey. No youkai, no highwaymen, no legion of samurai protecting the old woman. No tests to pass, no tricks to see through, nothing but the long path, the unassuming hut in the thicket, and the old, hobbling, sharp-eyed woman within.
Sango found herself not quite disappointed, but at unease. Her senses remained sharp, and like a sprinter who stays too long in a crouch, awaiting a call to start that never comes, her mind and body began to ache with apprehension.
The path was long, for Kaede instructed them to walk rather than ride Kirara, lest they miss their destination. Kaede's directions were exact, and their day's walk brought them to the old woman with their strength intact and their moods pleasant.
Kirara, for her part, was not bothered by her role of mascot rather than steed. She would find a comfortable spot on Sango's shoulder, hiding beneath a cascade of hair. Then she would grow bored, jump to the ground, and forge the path ahead of them on soft and rapid paws. Then tired, she would move to Miroku, forming a similar place of rest on his shoulder, digging claws into his robe, and sleep for an hour or so. Once awakened, she would again go to her mistress.
Kirara followed this pattern exactly for the entire course of the journey, and now she regained her strength from the shallow bowl of fish broth the woman had presented the neko-youkai with.
Beside her were Sango and Miroku, both with cups of exotic-tasting tea. Before them was the fire, and beyond that the woman, whose name Sango still did not know, watched them silently with a smile that was both knowing and enigmatic, and set Sango at ease. Mostly.
When their silent meal was done, the old woman placed the cup beside here and spoke for the first time.
"Forgive me for testing your patience so, but it is my way to refresh visitors before speaking to them about serious matters."
She stood, walked to where Miroku sat, and kneeled before him.
"Ah, Houshi-dono. I knew you would have no trouble reaching this place. You memory may be lost, but your heart is not." She cupped his cheeks. "Yes, I see the wisdom in your eyes. You have many trials ahead, and you will pass them without regret." She touched his hand. "The Kazaana holds no power in this place, and I expect you take both comfort and fear in this. Do you trust me, child?"
His eyes met hers.
"I do."
Her wrinkled fingers pulled loose the rosary that sealed the Kazaana, but no hell-winds came. She smiled, as if she herself were surprised by this.
"Would Naraku only but know the limits of his power. Even his most infamous curse cannot withstand the good and pure places in this world. Look."
She pulled off the gauntlet as well, and to Miroku's surprise he saw his whole hand. The black circle over the palm was so faded that it merely darkened the skin beneath. Had he known no better, he would have thought the mark was nothing more than the evidence of a lump of coal he had grasped.
The woman placed the rosary and gauntlet before Miroku and moved on to Sango.
"Taiji-ya-san," she breathed, bowing reverently. Sango returned the gesture.
"I know your face, but I lament that my visions do not do justice to your beauty. I can see why Houshi-dono has so much trouble behaving himself around you."
Both Sango and Miroku blushed at this and looked away from each other nervously. Sango, however, had her face quickly caught in the woman's hands.
"In your eyes I can see deeper, and the stronger affections Houshi-dono holds for you make more sense to me now. I apologize for not seeing it before – you are truly the descendent of Midoriko. She was not a huntress as you are, but held the same fire, the same passion for life." She smiled. "And perhaps, the same passion for love, but she made her sacrifice long before anyone knew to which man her heart leaned, if any."
"Midoriko was of my village," Sango said, "and many stories of her were told when I was a child. But I am the last to know them, for I am the sole survivor of my clan."
The woman smiled and clasped her hands.
"I wish I could tell you more, but at this time all I can comfort you with is my promise that Naraku failed. The Taiji-ya village is decimated but not destroyed, and the ghosts that haunt its walls will one day be drowned out by the laughs of children. Ten, or even twenty. And they will be only the first of many generations."
"I hope I live to see that," Sango whispered.
The woman backed away, and the smile she gave Sango was so reassuring and yet so sad that she found it hard to contain her tears.
"I know, dear. I know."