Disclaimer: This piece is based on 'Inuyasha', owned by Rumiko Takahashi. No copyright infringement intended or implied.
The Box
She kneeled before the box that held her dead sister's personal items, in the hut that, in a day or two, would no longer belong to her. Kaede stared at the simple, wooden planks, hands clenched, fighting herself to do what she had been avoiding since spring.
Satsuki--the headman's wife--had finally informed her this morning about the planned arrival of a miko to replace Kikyo. "We're not going to abandon you, child," she had said, trying to reassure. "We owe your sister too much for that. If the miko agrees, she may take you on as an apprentice; or if she recommends that you go to a temple, we'll see that you get there."
But before the new miko arrived, the hut where she and Kikyo had lived had to be cleaned out, and anything which Kaede needed or had the right to keep had to be moved. And that meant going through the box...
Satsuki reached a hand towards the box. "No!" exclaimed Kaede, not quite slapping the hand away. "I-I can do it myself!" She placed her hands on the top of the box, but they refused to move. Refused to open the box that contained secrets only she and Kikyo had known.
A sigh came from the woman, after several moments of inaction had passed. "Would you prefer to be alone, Kaede? I know it must be hard for you, to go through your sister's things."
The girl swallowed hard against the knot in her throat. "Please."
Satsuki patted the top of her head before standing up. "Come get me, when you've gone through everything."
It still took time, after Satsuki had left, before Kaede could force her hands to pry the lid of the box back. The first item she saw was a mirror--possibly the only mirror in the village. Rare, expensive: a gift from a glass-maker whose life Kikyo had saved, while she was still in training. Her teacher had insisted that Kikyo keep it, pointing out its usefulness for scrying spells.
Kaede didn't know whether Kikyo had ever used it for that. She could remember only seeing it once since Kikyo had agreed to stay in the village--that night, when she had used a small shell of rouge to color her lips. Pulling the mirror out, Kaede examined her own face. It was ugly, her one eye smudged and reddened; the scarred socket covered with a leather patch. She fought to keep her lips from trembling, tasting bitterness, and pain--would anyone really want to teach her; help a maimed, scarred girl like herself? Even if she did learn what she needed to be a real miko, would anyone really want to trust her skills? Every girl she had seen at the temple had been, at the very least, without obvious scars: most had been pretty.
She was anything but.
Turning the mirror over, Kaede hastily placed it in the basket meant for items that the new miko would receive. She didn't want it. Didn't ever want to see her face in it again.
The next item she pulled out was a rosary. The power Kikyo had imbued into the rosary made her fingers tingle. Kaede remembered her sister talking to herself that night when she had put the rosary together. It had been meant for Inuyasha: from what she remembered, it would have given her sister power over the hanyo.
Why hadn't she used it? wondered Kaede. Would things have been different, if she had? She couldn't imagine that Inuyasha would have appreciated the 'gift.' Would he have left, maybe? Would events have--changed?
Kaede put the rosary into the basket of items she would keep. The spell would only affect Inuyasha; she was certain. The spell sealing him was intended to be forever, but what if something happened? She would keep the rosary, she decided.
Just in case.
A pair of tabi socks, neatly darned, went into the miko's basket. Extra socks were always useful, but they were too big for Kaede. She wriggled her bare toes, and wondered if someone would make new socks for her. Her own, which she'd had since leaving the temple, were more darns than whole fabric, and anyway, had been getting too small last winter. Satsuki had cut down Kikyo's remaining--and well-worn--pair of hakama for Kaede to wear, and had found white material and red strips from somewhere to make the hakui which all mikos wore. And insisted that she no longer go barefoot, providing a pair of straw sandals. That had been months ago, of course, before everyone learned that she didn't know enough to replace Kikyo.
Not that she'd ever be able to replace Kikyo.
A small box of stiff paper contained scrolls which Kikyo had been using to continue Kaede's education. With some reluctance, Kaede put them in the miko's basket. She didn't know enough to make use of the information in the scrolls, not without help, anyway. If the miko couldn't read, and if the headman decided to send her to a temple, she could probably get them back.
A length of soft, subtly patterned, but brilliant green silk next came out of the box. Kaede leaned back, bemused, as she examined it. She knew what it was, though she'd forgotten about it until this moment.
Youkai spider-silk.
Kaede bit her lip against a swelter of emotions, including both sadness and a surge of amusement and contempt. She remembered that incident, way back when they had just left the temple. That merchant had been so stupid! And greedy! And treacherous! She knew that Kikyo had had her doubts over that incident, but Kaede had none. That man had deserved worse than what had happened to him.
She folded the length and put it in her basket. She didn't think she wanted to explain to a strange miko just what that piece of silk was--and the youki had long since been purified from it. She would probably never do anything with the silk, but it was a reminder of the good times, when it had just been herself, Kikyo, and the road...
Several items--including a bag of loose beads, and a pair of fans used in some ceremonies--went directly into the miko's basket. Then Kaede pulled out the largest remaining item, which was wrapped in a covering of thin, unbleached cotton. Her fingers trembled, and her throat locked as she pulled the wrap away to reveal the heavily embroidered hakui she had last seen Kikyo wearing the spring before.
She remembered. Remembered how beautiful Kikyo had appeared that day, as she performed the intricate and powerful dance to cleanse and heal the fields devastated by a horde of ice youkai. She had been so beautiful: radiant with the power and beauty and grace, backed up with the throbbing taiko drums and the sacred incense. Kaede had been able to 'see' the ribbons and streams of spiritual and kami powers mingling and rolling over the fields as her sister danced.
And when she had seen her sister run--run!--to Inuyasha's side, after he had fallen from his hiding spot, inadvertently purified, Kaede had known--whether anyone else did or not--that Kikyo truly cared about the hanyo.
And now they were gone. Both. One dead, burned to ash and buried. One sealed forever.
All because of that horrible jewel. If only Kikyo had never been given that Shikon no Tama to purify!
Kaede gritted her teeth against tears. No. She wouldn't cry! She'd cried enough yesterday, cried herself to sleep too often. She couldn't cry, not now, not when Satsuki would be coming back and would see, not when anyone might step into the hut, because it wasn't really hers anymore. She shouldn't be still mourning, anyway. Shouldn't still be crying, a season after her sister had died. Life went on; she'd reminded herself repeatedly. Kikyo wouldn't want her to keep crying, would she?
Actually, she might.
The girl stared down at the robe, as she remembered the last time she had been hurting. After her mother had died in childbirth, her father had sent her to Kikyo, who was in training at a temple in a town several weeks' travel away. She could remember how cold and afraid she'd been on that unending trip with people she didn't know; how scared she'd been to let any tears out, lest they slap her; or worse, abandon her. When she'd finally set eyes on Kikyo, she'd been terrified that her sister--who was so much taller than she'd remembered--would turn away from her. But that moment when Kikyo had knelt and held out her arms to her; that moment when she'd lunged forward in response, finding the comfort, and love she so desperately needed--
How many nights, in private, had they cried together? How many nights had Kikyo held her and sung whispered melodies? How often she had assured the five-year-old that tears of grief were right and proper, that tears were the way a soul lightened its burdens.
Lightened.
Kaede scrubbed a palm against her wet cheeks, not at all sure, presently, if she agreed with her sister. Her soul didn't feel any lighter, not this time. She just felt so tired, and heavy, and lonely. Last time, at least, she'd had her sister. Now, she didn't have anyone.
She pulled the cloth back over the robe, and--half-defiantly--placed it in her basket. Some would argue that it should go to the new miko, who, after all, would probably have a near-term use for it, if she decided the fall harvests needed extra blessing or protection, and if she didn't have a robe to match it. But, she didn't want to give it up--it was Kikyo's, and Kaede had helped make it. Someday, somehow, orphan girl, half-blind, and all, she would follow Kikyo's path, and she would wear the robe herself, with Kikyo's blessing!
Scrubbing at her face again, Kaede rose up on her knees to check the bottom of the box. Small things, mostly, were left. She pulled out a set of papers, and a flat box that contained brushes and a block of ink, and put them in the other basket without hesitation. They were items inherited from the previous tenant of the hut. Kikyo's strength had never been in written spells: what paper had been used, was for Kaede's learning. A packet of needles and several small balls of thread: Kaede had her own sewing kit residing in the headman's house. The new miko could have them if she wanted; if not, some girl in the village would find use for them. A cloth bag with a few coins: that went in her basket.
The box was empty. Kaede stared down into it, and eventually made herself close it, feeling as empty as that container. Tucking the coins a bit further down in her basket, the girl stood up and looked around.
The hut looked--and felt--unused. Only ash and clinkers in the fire-pit, empty containers stacked along with a pair of dividers along one wall. Dirt and dust and bits of dried herbs on the floor and in various bowls haphazardly collected along the opposite wall--debris from her various spell crafting, as inadequate as the rest of her efforts.
Scrubbing her face once more to make sure it was dry, Kaede picked up her basket and walked to the entrance. Sliding on her sandals, she left the hut she had shared with her sister, the hut she had--for a while--called home.
It was home no longer. Kikyo no longer resided in the walls, and all Kaede had her sister was a small basket--and memories.
Author's Note: This piece was written for the challenge 203 at the Inuyasha Fanfiction contest on LiveJournal. It was originally published November 24, 2009.