I lag behind the others. The ache in my hand is intensifying. I tear off the glove, unsurprised; the howling spiral of wind is consuming my hand.

Maitreya Buddha protects the future; he is the saviour who will deliver us to the pure land.

I wonder if that is what my mother thought as she, dying, whispered that name.

Not I, mother. My time ends here.

They are racing towards me, too late. I watch them as I fall. The sky implodes in my sight and darkness rushes over me.

You were my saviours, my friends, my beloved. Not I.

x

Notes: "Miroku" is the Japanese form of the Sanskrit "Maitreya", a messianic figure revered by several Buddhist sects. The fate of Miroku's mother is unknown, but she might have died giving birth. Now I shut up before the notes become longer than the fic.