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"I guess I just couldn't forget, huh?" she says, looking almost embarassed. "I didn't mean to cling on like that. I just - I wanted to say, just once, 'let me go with you.'"
"I thought you wanted love," he says. "A husband. Children."
"Yes. Yes, I did. And I had them. But you weren't there."
"I could not have given you those things."
She laughs, her eyes glistening. "Oh, I know that. Even then, I knew that. It's why I never said it. What girl wants to go traipsing about the country looking for murderous spirits?" She laughs again, sniffs, wipes a tear from her cheek. A smell of burnt cinnamon - she knows without looking what stands behind her. If she closes her eyes but a moment, she fancies she feels a brown hand glowing with gold, reaching out to touch her hair, gently, so gently; but it is probably only a fancy.
"It hasn't been a bad life," she says. "I wasn't unhappy. I just... couldn't forget."
"You could not die."
"Not until I saw you again." She smiles. "It's all right. I'm sorry I had to trouble you over such a little thing."
"Not little," he says, reaching out to touch her cheek as the sword falls, silently. "Not little."
An old woman frees her last breath as his painted lips press to her brow, the creases like a map of time beneath them. Slowly, he straightens, lifts his medicine box onto his back, and leaves.
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(It -- it's lovely ~ ;_;)
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Love you for organizing this, cause now there's so much good stuff to read and see!
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