A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry this is so late, but I was on vacation. I'm also sorry for the extremely short chapter, but I promise that the next one will be long. To top it off, things will actually start happening in the next chapter! Shocking, I know...
Kikyo's grave looks how I remember it as well. This tree isn't frightening to me: its yearly cycle of life is comforting. My sister is 'buried' here, and yet it is still is alive.
So I don't hate everything living, at least. I guess that realization should be comforting enough. It's not like I have anything else to hold onto, standing here and staring at the place where my sister's life is buried. So life goes on, even when the things that make it worth living are gone.
God, it's been five years. I need to find something else in my life to hang on to. I cannot go on living solely on the memory of my dead sister. I need something else worth living for. The thought makes me smile bitterly. Basically, I need a life. How ironic.
The tree before me is pocked with arrow marks from my first clumsy days of shooting. I don't practice here anymore, because I don't want to shoot arrows at a gravesite. Even if my sister's grave could give me strength, I wouldn't feel right.
I need to go back to the village. The sun is setting, and I don't want to be out too late. Demons that roam the woods seem much more frightening at night. Oh, look at that. A priestess who admits to being scared of demons. God, how funny.
I shouldn't feel bitter like this when I'm trying to pay my respects to my sister. I can't help it. If I don't feel angry, I'll feel sad, and I can't handle all that sadness. I've never been able to handle it. The crushing sorrow that accompanies death drove me into a corner of my house and kept me there for a year and a half. There's no guarantee that someday I won't become like that again, hiding from the world and crying underneath a blanket.
So I need to stay angry. Maybe that's the thing that will keep me going. I need to stay bitter about Kikyo's death, because otherwise I won't be able to go on living. Without all this anger filling me up, I'd waste away.
As I head back to the village, feet following a well-worn path, I admit to myself that this visit, meant to bring peace to both myself and my sister's spirit, has only served to further anger me. I'm as bitter as ever, even though I'm ashamed of desecrating my sister's grave with anger. The loneliness, bitterness, pent-up sadness never gets any better no matter how many years go by.
Before I go through the door to my house, I tell myself again that I need to find something to hold onto in life.