Pictures
Uncle Souta - she had an uncle now - ha given her a gift.
Moroba didn't draw the others' attention to it, it was for her alone. So, when one evening she found herself alone in their cam, her cousins going out for a walk or to hunt, she took out a small envelope made out of flimsy-looking transparent paper that allowed no water in Inside was her secret treasure.
She sat near the camp fire, as if she was waiting for the water in the pot hanging over the fire to boil. With deft fingers she extracted a small paper envelope fro the transparent one an slipped out of it a couple of squares.
Her eyes met honey gold and she lowered her head to look more closely at the first picture etched on the square of paper.
For years, she had imagined how her parents looked like. She had listened intently to people talking about them, feigning disinterest. Now, thanks to uncle Souta, she could stop imagining.
In the first picture - a photo - her father sat cross-legged on the plush carpet in the living room of Higurashi house. He appeared relaxed, hands resting on his knees, eyes looking to the side, where the old Higurashi grandfather sat with a cup of tea in his hands Her father wore the red robe that was rumored to be just like her attire. His hair was silver like Towa's and he had a pair of dog ears perched on top of his head. A sheathed sword was laid on the carpet next to him, within easy reach.
Om his other side, resting her back against his shoulder, sat her mother, appearing not much older than herself. She had a strange robe of white and green - Moroba had seen some girls in Towa's time wearing these - and was busy reading a book.
Moroba wondered, what that book was about, about what the old Higurashi and her father spoke, She wondered how it'd feel to curl up in a ball cuddled against her parents on that carpet.
She moved the photo to the bottom of the small stack, revealing another one. Her mother, this time in pants and a shirt, ran up the stairs towards the one taking the picture, a bag of potato chips - a true food of the gods - n her hands. Her hair was flowing behind her like a black banner, her face was flushed and smile radiant. She ran like a demon was chasing her.
Well, in this case a half-youkai, actually. Moroba grinned at the perked ears and mischievous smirk on the face of her father pursuing her mother - and the chips - up the stairs. A fang could be seen and Moroba flashed her own tiny fangs in delight. How fun it would have been, playing tag with them and share food.
The third picture was her favorite. It depicted her mother once more in the 'school uniform', holding a bow with an arrow resting against the string. She didn't draw yet, but looked as if she could do that any minute, standing sideways, but facing towards where the picture taker stood. In front of her, crouched in a battle stance, the hanyou brandished the swords of which Moroba had only heard - the Tessaiga, in its giant fang form. Her father looked as if he was daring the world to come at him and Moroba giggled, before turning her gaze back to her mother's face. She looked as if she was trying to look fierce, but mirth was gleaming in her eyes and the corners of her lips were upturned. They stood in front of the Sacred Tree, wind picking the ends of their hair.
Moroba wondered how it would be to stand with them, face foes and do battle. How fun it would have been to travel with them, to learn from them, to share food over a camp fire and laugh, never alone. She was almost an adult now, supporting herself and fighting for herself slowly, oh so slowly, repaying her debt. Yet still, she hadn't seen them in flesh, she hadn't hug them, she hadn't hear or smell them.
But, she remembered, she wasn't alone. They came and went, sometimes following their own paths, but her cousins were now a part of her life. They weren't very close yet and had lots of things to work on and discover about each other, but they were family, friends, companions around whom she could fall asleep without worry.
And, she hoped, one day, she could show her parents the pictures that Towa made with her camera and add those to the little stack that now she carefully hid in her bag. So, whenever she'd feel sad or lonely, she could steal a peek on those she shared bonds with and no longer imagine having family.