Written for the cookienook community on LJ.
Permanent
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Sometimes, when he's alone, he dreams.
The grass is always green and soft beneath him, the sky is always blue and brilliant. The birds chirp sweet, oblivious little songs, and the whispers of running water tickle and twist and speak of mysteries he has no hope of deciphering.
He lies in a puddle of red, red blood.
His clothes are sticky, tattooed to his skin. His hair is ratty, dyed the color of sunset and the drab shades of grey he only remembers when he is lonely. His eyes are no longer hazel, but black, murderous black; in a cloak of misery, he cuddles in the folds of memory, surrounded by the scent of his past and his future and their death.
When he wakes, the first thing he cries is, "Sister!"
Naraku smiles, cruel.
Kohaku lapses once again, amidst his tears, and forgets.