Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Rumiko Takashi. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No copyright infringement is intended.
Short Shrift
Chapter Two: Mending
Empty.
What could mend the cracks of a broken soul?
Even in the way she spoke, the way she perceived people there is an ever-present hollowness. In the beginning, she used it as her fuel; the constant reminder of what she had lost, what she aims to avenge, what she hopes to rectify. Now, she sees with clarity that only hindsight can grant that she was mistaken in that belief. Sango learned that she cannot allow her hate to drive her into doing right in the name of those she loved.
Love.
Was she ever blessed with such a precious thing?
She reached out for a hand to hold, grabbing onto anyone who reached back. In need of support, she found Miroku. Desperation can create terrible fools. Illusions conjured by a lonely heart. A phantom of lost emotions—love, happiness. Sango was no longer certain of the truth about such feelings. It seems to have been so long. Perhaps it was not jealousy that she felt, nor hurt, when she saw him with another woman. Perhaps it was a pang of inadequacy that wounded her most. The gods did not deem her worthy of her family or of joy. Perhaps she is not worthy of love.
Alone.
What will they think if they knew?
Her new friends—or is it better fitting to call them allies—have filled the silence of her days. She laughed and smiled with them but these are mere reflexes; only momentary breaks from her despair. If she were able to love, she was certain that she would love them. That is beyond her now, though. She is too broken to feel. Her soul has left her the day she saw her family and friends massacred. The blood flowed, mixing with a river of her tears taking from her something that she can never retrieve.
Hope.
Has she found it?
Its visits were coming more often. Usually it lets it presence known through quick, sudden burst of youki. A demon it was. She was never afraid. So strong yet so comforting, for some reason she wanted to have it around always. It was hostile at times, but she cannot be pushed to fear it. It was unreasonable. But she was beyond reason. She was beyond mending. She was beyond love, beyond company.
This mysterious presence offers something that her current group did not. Sango could not begin to guess what it was but she welcomed it nonetheless. Evil is all that is good for now—and pain and sorrow. She no longer wanted to pretend that she was doing fine, that she was happy and content. She wanted to be broken, to cry, and be unworthy. She longed for freedom from this façade of bliss.
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