As the flames licked the body of her dead sister, Kaede did not cry. She watched, silently, as Kikyo endured them, burden in hand. She would take that small, glittering curse with her to the other side where Kaede supposed she would be burdened with it even in death. No one else would be forced to serve it; for no one else was as strong as Kikyo.

Kaede would be looked upon now as the village priestess, proper training notwithstanding.

And what good could proper training possibly do her? How did it help Kikyo? Despite herself, she held her head high as the villagers came to her, placing their freshly washed hands on her shoulders to pray with her and for her. But also, for themselves. She pushed down her doubt, for them. Her shoulders were strong. They would carry the weight of her lineage, heavy with the shadow of her sister, even with the jewel destroyed.

But that night, as the flames called her sister to the other side, she let them slump in a bow that she held long after the fire had died, and the light was gone. In the darkness, she saw flashes of claws and silver-white hair and so much blood pouring from that terrible wound; a bead necklace shattered on the ground.

When the visions faded away to the blackness, Kaede awoke in the hut that they had once shared, unsure of how she got there. Despite the biting cold, Kaede couldn't stand the feel of her scratchy blanket against her skin and so she kicked it off. How could they all have been so foolish? The kindness he had shown, the friendship they shared...it had been as empty as the bed mat beside her. From her good eye, she looked at the outline of it in the dark. It was only days...days since her sister had lain there beside her with tears glimmering in the moonlight, hand outstretched to intertwine her fingers with Kaede's. A silent apology for the injury to her eye. Kaede didn't blame her, but the guilt had clung to the priestess all the same.

She crawled onto her elder sister's straw mat, hoping to feel even the slightest lingering of her presence...but it was only the absence that haunted her. Finally, as the sun crept over the mountains to light the village, she curled into Kikyo's blankets and wept.

xx

Despite the unrelenting flow of time and all the decades that had passed her by, Kaede could still picture Kikyo on the funeral pyre, hands clasped upon the jewel and the strong, serene look on her face. She could not say the years were unkind to her – the experiences had struck and forged and molded her into a woman of veritable mettle. Kikyo would be proud of what her younger sister had become.

Though not nearly as powerful and revered, Kaede had taken up the mantle of the village priestess and had trained rigorously to be able to defend their small village from the evils that would threaten them. Demonic and otherwise, for these were trying times, and the hearts of men had proven to be far darker than those of Yokai. Kaede had learned quickly that morality came in shades and became no stranger to what needed to be done to quell the threats. Year after year, the brutality left its mark on her soul until only the thick, painless, ugly scars remained. The memories no longer haunted her when she lay down on her bedroll at night. She could sleep peacefully.

Despite her age, she still felt as solid and fiery as she did in the wake of Kikyo's death, surging and fighting to find her place in the world.

It was not a habit for her to visit the forest of Inuyasha, where her sister had shot the arrow that bound the demon to a tree, but every so often she would find herself close by, and always need to see the proof of his confinement. That, and to ponder the look on his face, forever frozen in time.

She considered that body now, covered in the flora of the forest, suspended in time. Such a beautiful, painful sight. Still the face of that boy who had trained her to protect herself. Arms that had been around her, whisking her from danger. Hands so still, that had held hers when she just a small, frightened thing. Hands that presented to her flowers and trinkets from all over the countryside. And claws...claws that had done much destruction; that had ended the life of her sister seeking that vile jewel - no. Not the jewel, but the power.

How peacefully he slept.

During these rare visits, Kaede would sometimes pray. Always something different, for this villager or that, but always in the end, she would conclude it with a prayer for the world. That it would never again be burdened with such an evil, vile thing - so that no one should ever again hold the burden of it. Her murmurs were interrupted, however, by the snapping of twigs behind her.

This time, Kaede was not alone.

From the forest floor, Kaede held her hand out to the girl. "Yuki, are ye ready?" The young Miko in training nodded her head and leaned to help the elder priestess stand. Yuki was not the first apprentice she had taken in these long years, but Yuki was certainly the most promising. Her power, though unrefined and raw, burned as brightly as she had ever seen in one so young.

"Aye, Lady Kaede."

"Hm. Come then, girl. Let us go to the river."

The girl nodded. "Yes, Priestess."

Kaede could see her wide, pale blue eyes had yet to move from the white-haired Yokai's body. "May the Kami show us mercy, if he is to ever be awakened." Her voice quavered in fear.

Kaede ran a finger over the smooth beads she carried with her in her pocket, once gifted to her by her sister. "Come now. Do not worry ye so. Only my sister could break the curse she placed on him. If not that, then an unholy magic so powerful that Inuyasha will be the least of our worries."