Memories are just where you leave them. Dredge the waters, till the depths give up their dead. What did you expect to find? Was it something you left behind…
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Gossamer Dreams
Part 11
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"She does not need another check-up, you realize." Rin spoke softly to her mentor as he waited for the door to the taijiya manor to open. "It's been nearly three months, and her wound is nothing but a scar now."
"It was still rather red last time I saw it." Miroku told her, clearing his throat to hide his embarrassment at being found out yet again by his clever apprentice. "And besides that, I see how well you two get along. I cannot bear to see your friendship end so quickly."
"And you want to ogle Shinju." Rin added. "Honestly, everyone knows what you are up to, Miroku."
"You may be eleven, but I am still eighteen, dear Rin. And I would rather you remember who is the elder here." He told her, though a slight smile quirked his lips as she shook her head in clear disgust at his irrepressible behavior. "I only show concern for Miss Shinju because she is still so emotionally upset that her sister was so badly wounded. She worries that Sango will never be allowed to take up her weapon again, and that the rest of her days, she will be searching for a husband or a job or both. It is hard, being an older sister."
"Something I'm sure you're quite capable of understanding, Miroku." Rin's voice sounded utterly innocent, as always, but Miroku did a double take, unfamiliar with her teasing him so expertly. Usually she only smiled and nodded. Obviously, she was becoming rather more intelligent than what was strictly good for him, as she was likely to debunk all his attempts at wooing women.
"Rin, please, be serious." He chastised her lightly as the door opened, and they were led in to see their young patient, who was happily chasing her younger brother and their cat around the courtyard. When she spotted them, she stopped, straightening herself swiftly and marching over to meet them as though a silent voice had ordered her to do so. Miroku supposed that was the way the taijiya were taught to behave, from the moment they could walk or talk, they were taking orders so often they came to anticipate them before they had ever left one's lips. She did a slight curtsy to greet them, which looked odd on the girl as she was not one for skirts, and instead spent most of her time in the training clothes, pants and tight shirts, that were standard issue for the entire family. It made her look slightly boyish, even though her face was anything but, her young body was still without the slightest hint of a curve, and it didn't seem to fit with her pretty face and shimmering black hair.
"Good day, Healer." She was all seriousness, even though it was clear she wanted to be done with the examination so she might play with Rin. It was odd that she could be a soldier one moment and a normal child the next, but she seemed to be a happy enough child all around, so Miroku did not think over it too much.
"Good day, Miss Sango." He gave her a light bow just as Rin, smiling brightly, curtsied deeply as was proper for healers to their clients. "How are you feeling?"
"Very well, thank you." She smiled then, obviously unable to resist Rin's own grin, and it lit up her face like nothing Miroku had ever seen. Definitely a girl. "Are you here to check on me again? Or did you just want to see my sister? She is on a mission, you know."
"Ah, while I never miss a chance to greet the lovely Miss Shinju, I am always concerned first and foremost with my patients, and that would be you, dear Miss Sango." Miroku inclined his head politely and beckoned to her. "Could I take a look at your stomach, only for a moment?"
"Yes, of course." Sango blinked pretty burgundy eyes at him, dark lashes impossibly long as they grazed her lightly tanned skin. "And then, might I visit with Rin?"
"Of course." He bent to look as she lifted her shirt about halfway so that he could see the thin line of puckered, pink scar tissue on her young skin. "It is quite a mark for someone so little, is it not?"
"Is…it ugly?" Sango pulled her shirt back down hurriedly, her nose scrunching in worried distaste. "I think it is awfully big."
"It is not ugly, Sango." Miroku assured her, patting her shoulder as he stood to his full height. "Scars are memories that our flesh will not let us forget. When you are an old woman, your body will still remember that first mission you took with your father, so many years ago. Does that not sound lovely, always being able to see the past and look at it fondly, now that the pain has past?"
"That does…make it sound much better." Sango flushed lightly, smiling again. "Are we done, then?"
"Yes, you may play with Rin." He waved the children away, and Rin wasted no time in snatching Sango's hand and running out into the courtyard where Kohaku waited with their cat, Kirara. It was nice, seeing Rin so happy amongst friends of her own age. It made Miroku miss Kikyo all the more, and it also made him wonder if indeed, the time had come for Rin to move on. He wondered if he could let her go, now that she was his only friend in the whole world. To think that Kaede had spent all those years alone without him seemed utterly inconceivable. No family, no true friends, no one waiting when she came home. One plate at the dinner table, no one to cook for or clean for other than yourself. Horrible thought.
Of course, he was old enough to marry, and most of his contemporaries at the University were either engaged or already settled with someone, but as much as he joked about it in front of Rin, Miroku honestly felt that he would die a bachelor. It was not that he did not enjoy the idea of a wife, of having just one woman who he could love more than anyone else, and who would feel the same way for him, he just worried that if he ever did love someone that much, it would be horrible to saddle her with the responsibility of living with him. For one thing, he was Gifted, and though he recalled to himself that Hanami had married without ever telling her husband the truth of her origins, he could not see himself keeping something so vital a secret, especially considering the trouble that secret had ended up causing Rin. He understood that Hanami had likely felt the fact that she was Gifted was secondary to the person that she was beside all of that, but it was a very important thing to Miroku. He was, after all, running a sort of Gifted halfway house, and it would be rather hard to explain that away to a wife who did not even realize he was Gifted.
Added to that, since he housed so many Gifted, there was the added responsibility of taking care of these refugees, and keeping their whereabouts a secret while helping to smuggle them out of the country or at least move them to somewhere less noticeable. It was a dangerous lifestyle to live, and that was another reason he felt like if he found a woman he honestly wished to marry, the best he could offer her was to stay away from the poor woman. In addition, their children would be only one quarter Gifted, but there was still a chance that it would show up in their eyes, or in a Mark, and then he would be condemning his own children to a life of hiding from the very country they had been born in.
Even if all of that was not true, he was a Healer, and a University student besides that. He had always thought that once he started at the University, he would simply give up Healing, as it would take too much time trying to do both, but he could not simply abandon those who needed him, and he found that he learned about some things at the school that could actually add to what Kaede had taught him. Maybe, when he was too old to walk all over Yuurei, he would settle for being a professor of some sort, but for now, he was both a doctor and a scholar, and he could hardly see how he would have time to spare for a wife and a family beside all that.
And for now, he was still only a young man. Eighteen and a half years old, with an eleven-year-old apprentice to look after. Rin was very quick, and he thought that if she decided she would rather stay in Fukumaden, then he would be glad to hand his Healer title over to her in about ten years, once she was well-practiced. But she would be leaving, he was sure. For now, he could just watch her playing with Sango, two carefree children unaware that they could never really be friends outside of these lies they all hid within.
Sometimes, Miroku hated being a grown up.
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"This is without a doubt the best dinner I have ever had." Miroku patted his stomach and smiled warmly at the girl sitting across from him. She was something of a young woman now, he supposed, almost marriageable age, and more than any man could hope for. Not only could Rin cook, clean, and organize a household like she was born doing it, she was a skilled Healer and a very well learned young lady. Of course, most men preferred ignorant women who would never question being placed in the kitchen and never being let out of their domestic servitude, but Miroku thought that everyone should be able to do whatever they liked, whether they were human or Youkai or Gifted, male or female. And so, Rin was taught everything she ever asked to learn, and became quite a capable young woman in no time.
Actually, it had been nearly six years. It was easy to forget that, sometimes. Easy to place it to one side and not think on it too much while he enjoyed her company and her conversation and thought of her as a sister. Not a replacement for the one he had lost, who of course had never actually been his to begin with, but still. She was Rin, and she was his family, and he did not want her to leave, and therefore, he never spoke up about the whole business. Neither did she. So they lived very happily, a Healer and his apprentice.
"You say that every year, Miroku." She bit into a piece of cherry pie daintily. "But thank you, all the same. It seems the least I can do for you on your birthday."
"Must you remind me that I grow older with each passing day?" he sighed dramatically, as though mourning the moment. "Already twenty-one, far past my prime, like a flower that was once grand and proud, wilting under the winter winds."
"An utterly poetic flower, though I very rarely see men compare themselves to flowers even in a poetic context." She noted, grey eyes bright as ever. "Pray, tell me professor, what sort of insinuation is being made about the poet's masculinity through this comparison?"
"Too smart for your own good, and far too much poetry for anyone's good." Miroku shook his head, chuckling slightly in pride at the most gifted student he was sure he would ever have. "And do refrain from naming me professor when I am still three months from graduating to that rank."
"Two months, three weeks, and five days." Rin noted carefully, her smile bright and just as proud as his own. "You will be the best professor that the University has ever known, of that, I am sure."
"I am not sure I can accept the position full time, however." Miroku mused, more to himself than to Rin. "It will be impossible to teach and remain Healer for so many families."
"Then pass them down to me, fool man." Rin made a face as though she thought it was quite impossible that someone so smart be so utterly dense. "I have the ability to take over for you, and you know it. You coddle me too much, and it is rather embarrassing."
"Do I?" he chuckled, but his smile faded all too soon. "Rin, I was never planning to pass my title to you."
"What?" she smiled hesitantly, clearly thinking this was another of his jokes. "You must be kidding."
"No, I'm not." He told her, folding his napkin carefully and setting it on his empty plate. "I am utterly serious, Rin. I always thought that when I went to gather you up from your home, I would spend two years teaching you all you needed to know to go back to Seiiki and find your mother's family there. You know all of that, and more, and yet, here you are, nearly six years since we first met."
"I was not in a hurry, particularly," she told him after a long and pregnant silence. "I did not mean to overstay my welcome, though. I think that perhaps you should arrange for me to leave as soon as possible. I do not belong here, after all." He looked up at that, and he thought that her eyes glittered with something more than lamp light, but before he could be sure, she had rushed to throw open the windows and turned to tell him what she saw. "We have a pigeon. Are you ready?"
"Who is it from?" he asked, standing and trying not to let his thoughts linger on what had just happened, instead rushing to scoop up his bag and then find his cloak.
"The taijiya residence." She told him, her voice tight, strained more than he had ever heard it. Was it because of concern for their patient or upset over the scene that had just taken place, he could not tell. "They request immediate assistance, Miroku. It must be an emergency."
"Let us be off then." He sent the pigeon back with a quickly scrawled acceptance, and then they were out the door, with barely enough time for Rin to grab her cloak. Truly, of all the families they treated, the taijiya were the most capable of caring for themselves. Most times, when anything happened, they had already done a fair job of treating it before Rin and Miroku arrived, and usually, they only sent a notice asking for the Healer and his apprentice to come by in the morning to help with broken bones, stab wounds, sprains, or anything else they might suffer on their dangerous missions. When they sent an immediate request, it was a sure sign that someone was in a serious state. And so, they wasted no time, nearly running the whole way until they finally were able to catch a coach that took them the rest of the way with both Miroku and Rin fidgeting the whole way.
Once they arrived, they were immediately led in and taken to the back room where wounded taijiya were always placed. The figure that was before them was so completely covered in blood and bandages that Rin had a hard time recognizing exactly who it might be until Miroku spoke.
"Miss Shinju," he sounded more frightened than Rin had ever heard him, but to those around, he only sounded slightly out of breath. Of course, she had lived with him for the better part of six years, and she could recognize fear when he showed it, on the rare occasions he even seemed to experience it. "She looks horrible. What happened?"
"She was on a mission with Sango," Bekkou was there, tears streaming down her face in a silent torrent that did not seem to affect her voice as she spoke. "Apparently, something went wrong, and in the end, Sango had to carry her back. Of course, that only exacerbated the wounds…but they simply did not have enough to treat her before returning. Please, Miroku, you have never failed us in all the time we have known you. Tell me that you can save her."
"Let me have a closer look, Madam Bekkou." The fact that he did not immediately assure her of Shinju's well-being was enough to cause the older woman to break out into loud sobs. Rin turned to comfort her while watching Miroku's examination in terror. Multiple lacerations, deep wounds that were literally pouring blood, though with less speed as each moment passed. There might have been some sprains, but it was impossible to tell under the bloody mess of her body. Oddly enough, there was only one small cut on her face, near her right ear, and while it was bleeding liberally as all head wounds tend to, it left her face unmarred. "Madam Bekkou." Miroku's voice was mournful as he turned to her again.
"What…is it?" she managed between sobs.
"I am sorry, but Miss Shinju is dying, and no one could possibly save her at this point. It is simply too late, and she has lost too much blood. Even I cannot hope to…" he left off, but Rin knew what he was saying. Even if he pushed spirit into her until he passed out, it would not be enough. There was no way to save Shinju. Rin felt tears pour down her face, even though this was not the first patient she had ever watched die. It never got easier, and when it was someone she had treated for so long…it made it that much more difficult. "I am truly sorry. All I can do now is make her comfortable." Madam Bekkou might have nodded, but it was hard to tell, she was shaking so badly as she sobbed against Rin's shoulder. Miroku began making a tea to let Shinju pass into a peaceful, painless sleep, and Rin turned when she heard the door open and shut behind them. The maid had slipped out and returned with Kohaku, Sango, and their father, Zouge, all of them in different states of mourning. Kohaku looked shocked, his dark eyes wide as though he could not conceive of the idea of his own sister dying before his very eyes. Sango was sobbing inconsolably, and Zouge looked as though he was trying to distract himself by attempting to comfort the girl, who was still wearing clothes soaked in the blood of her own, dying sister.
"She will not be in pain, I can tell you." Rin finally spoke, when she felt something had to be said. Miroku had administered the tea, and the feverish twitching that Shinju had been experiencing when they arrived was fading into stillness. "It will feel like she is drifting down a warm river, floating along without a care in the world."
"That…sounds nice." Zouge managed, but no one else seemed capable of speech, so they all watched, sobbing or simply staring, as Shinju passed from the world.
"She's gone, now." Miroku bowed lower than Rin had ever seen him bow. "I am sorry I was unable to save her. I am deeply, deeply sorry." When he straightened, Rin caught the light glinting off of twin trails of wetness on his cheeks, and she could not help leaving Bekkou's side to hug him as tightly as she could.
"It's okay, Miroku." She told him, not knowing what else to say. "It was not your fault."
"She's right." Sango's voice reached them, surprisingly controlled for someone who had just been crying so hysterically. "It was mine."
Rin wanted to vomit.
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The End (Of Part 11, That Is)