(no subject)
Title: The Shrine
Author’s Name: parsnip-chan
Written For: naybob and the September challenge at iy_flashfic
Pairing or Character: Mama Higurashi/Papa Higurashi, Jiichan
Rating: PG
Spoiler Warnings:
Author’s Note: I hope this orig-I mean Inuyasha backstory fic hit the spot ^_^
The Shrine
Onkei leisurely swept clean the shrine steps. Business had been slow of late since festival season ended some few weeks ago. She missed the bustle of people meandering, paying homage to Goshinboku and in general seeking solace in the temple and surrounding grounds. It was a busy time though and required round the clock maintenance to keep the trash from piling up and mud from marring the stone pathway.
It was peaceful now, calm after so much laughter as children ran around the square in traditional dress and parents gathered together to gossip and giggle like chickens . It was usually a tranquil place to devote her life to, one that had been passed down from mother to daughter for twelve generations. Yes, each was given the option to pursue her own life, but at least one member always stayed as caretaker. She had been an only child, yet never regretted the tradition.
Still, on these quiet days, it’d be nice for a little company, someone to talk the long hours away. It was always thus. She loved people, enjoyed watching their antics and their dramas unfolding in front of her eyes. She sometimes wished there was someone special to share the duties with, but she never complained.
Swish, swish, swish. The broom kept up its steady side to side movement as she traveled down the steps, lost in her thoughts.
The bristles pressed into the white stone, sunlight glinting off the edge causing sunbursts to spot her vision, but she paid little attention to the noise, the monotony of the task. She was a shrine maiden; her duty was her life.
As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she felt herself collide with a passing stranger. Her head lifting, she covered her mouth with one hand as the broom fell to the ground with a thud. Cheeks blushing prettily, she bowed her head. “Sorry, I was not paying attention to where I was going.”
The man smiled weakly, and nodded his head. “It’s alright, I ran into you myself thinking I might see where these stairs led.”
Onkei smiled cheerfully. “I can save you a trip for curiosity’s sake then.” She bowed again before stating, “At the top lies a Shinto Shrine. It has been cared for by a long family of priestesses for nearly five hundred years.”
The man nodded, intrigued. “And does this shrine have a name?” he queried.
Onkei blushed. “It has had many names through the years, though the most consistent one is the Sunset Shrine. Some also refer to it as the Inochi shrine to reflect its current caretaker.”
“Thank-you,” he replied gazing upwards at the long trek. “Thank-you,” he murmured before heading down the sidewalk away from her.
Onkei frowned. She had rather hoped the man would be more talkative and keep her company. She shrugged the meeting off as she bent to pick up her discarded broom. He looked a little pale anyways. Staying out in the sun would probably give him sunburn.
-\-\--|--/-/-
She saw him again about two weeks later, gazing at the shrine, almost afraid to enter its smoothly polished walls. She had been cleaning out one of the old storage sheds, dirt everywhere and covered in cobwebs. She could almost swear her hair was grey with dust. Still, despite her disheveled appearance, she wondered if she should attempt conversation again.
He appeared lost as he shifted from one foot to the next, eyes glued to the shrine. His complexion looked a little better today; perhaps it was a result of trekking up the steps? Exercise did wonders for him. Still, she didn’t want to scare him away again, and dressed as she was in an old ragged skirt and dirt smeared white blouse, she would be sure to do so.
Torn between hesitation and embarrassment, the decision was taken out of her hands as the stranger turned abruptly and walked away, defeat weighing down his shoulders. Frowning, she watched him disappear before looking back at the temple.
Decision made, she strode briskly into the shrine, dirt and all, and lit an incense stick before settling down for some meditation. She would be ready the next time he stopped by.
-\-\--|--/-/-
She waited a whole month this time, and she was careful to make sure she stayed away from spring, or in this case summer, cleaning. It had been a long wait. There was only so much light cleaning the shrine could take! For that matter, there was only so much idleness she could stand herself, but she persevered. She would not be caught unaware again.
This time, when he came, it was near dusk, and she was lighting the lamps that would allow her late night visitors to find their meandering way around the grounds. When he crested the hill, she was poised on the ladder, refilling the oil before lighting its carefully trimmed wick. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him watching her perform the ritual task, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” she called as she dusted her hands and gathered her materials together before descending from her perch. Smiling, she set everything on the ground, leaving her task only half finished. She would not give him an opportunity to run away again.
Walking up to him, she held her hand out in western fashion, hoping he’d take it as a sign of goodwill. It would also force him to relax and keep him from hiding his hands and consequently himself. After staring at the offering and watching the shrine maiden’s smile gently shine in the fading light, he took it tentatively before letting it go, barely giving her a chance to squeeze it in welcome.
Eyes sweeping over him, she again noted the paleness of his face, the listlessness in his eyes. This was a man that needed something; perhaps religion would grant him what he sought.
Clearing her throat, she gestured toward the shrine. “Have you been in one of these before?” she asked quietly, her voice gently inserting itself between the heavy layers of silence.
“Not often,” he replied, voice wavering a little. “I am not a religious man by nature.”
She nodded thoughtfully. She had already deduced that much. “Well, why don’t I give you a tour then and explain some of the basics.”
The man shifted nervously. “But don’t you have to finish lighting the lanterns?” he asked, unsure if he wanted company or not. He came only because the peace that exuded from this place would not leave him alone. It was something he craved and feared. There was not much peace in his life.
“Don’t worry about it. Enough are lit for the moment to see by. I’ll finish the rest after we’re done.” Gesturing with her hand, she waited for him to start walking before following slightly behind him.
“My name is Inochi Onkei, by the way.”
The man glanced slightly behind him at the woman. A serious expression fell across her face, displacing the cheerful smile she had worn each time they met. As equally grave, he told her his own, “Higurashi Shinkei.”
-\-\--|--/-/-
A low hum filled the shrine today, causing the handful of visitors to smile. They had watched the shrine maiden blossom with new life as the months passed and a new festival came and went. Most knew of the young lad, some said in his early thirties to Onkei’s mid-twenties, who came and left quietly, barely leaving a ripple save that the humming got louder and the air seemed to hold an extra ounce of contentment.
It was a good thing that was slowly unfolding in the well-kept shrine, and the regular patrons were eager to continue watching this new story unfold. Some had been around the last time a shrine maiden found her match and knew that the shrine cared for its own in time.
It was told that the ageless Goshinboku protected his keeper, just as they cared for him. He made sure that when the time was right, a new soul mate was called forward to ensure the line continued unbroken through the ages. Sometimes the story was a sweet one, full of gentle lovers, and other times the story was filled with hate and anger. In the end, it was exactly what the each priestess needed, grounding in faith and an heir.
They were eager to see this one starting on a lighter note with shy smiles and whispered conversations. It gave them hope for a happy ending, one they knew Inochi Onkei deserved for devoting herself so fully to tradition.
-\-\--|--/-/-
Onkei’s gaze sidled over each patron, avoiding the knowing smiles adorning their faces and the wisdom shining in their eyes. She knew the old stories, but she dared not believe that Shinkei was called here to be her companion, lover, mate, husband. An aura of despair seemed to follow him; heartache she had been unable to lift despite how hard she tried. He needed the shrine and its teachings more then he needed her.
Still, she knew she was lost when her heart-beat skipped in joy when his tousled hair bounced into view as he crested the landing, the faint chill of fall making his cheeks look extra rosy. Walking a little faster then normal, she eagerly greeted him, hand extended for a well reciprocated handshake. It had become their own, tiny tradition since that summer night not so long ago.
“I’m glad you made it today,” Onkei said as her hand fell back to her side. She really was. His visits sometimes were so erratic they made her heart heavy with dread that he had been scared off for good.
Shinkei stuffed his hands back into his pocket. He had nearly decided to stay away, far away from the shrine. But, it wasn’t fair to her, and it wasn’t fair to him either. It was hard not to notice her drop everything when he came by. Sometimes she just walked him to the shrine; sometimes she followed him inside and played at straightening the incense sticks and tatami mats. Sometimes, he wished he didn’t enjoy watching her flit about, catching his eye with her efficient motions and bubbling attitude. Sometimes, he wished he never heard about the shrine.
Shaking his somber thoughts from his mind, he steeled his shoulders back, determined to enjoy another day, another moment in this young woman’s life. It was the only time he felt something other then lethargic in his long days of nothingness and work. At times, he thought that his erratic visits to the shrine were the only thing that got him out of bed.
“So where were you the past few days?” she innocently inquired as they made their slow way across the courtyard. She had noticed the tiny flickering of shadow covering his aura, fading in and out as the sun does when a cloud races across it.
His brows scrunched together as a shutter fell across his face.
Her breath nearly stopped when he closed her off, guilt suffusing her soul. She had not meant to cause distress. She had just been sad that she had not been able to touch his hand yesterday and the two days prior.
“I was busy,” he replied as he took off for the shrine and ducked through the entrance. As he knelt in front of the shrine to light a fresh stick of sweet smelling scent, he berated himself internally for causing her stress, but he could not bear to tell his secret, his greatest fear. To do so would be to taint this place and the one woman who was his only beacon in the night. He would be broken if he ever lost them both.
As he settled on the mat, he closed his eyes in silent prayer. “Please don’t let me lose her. Please don’t let her find out.”
-\-\--|--/-/-
A muffled scream echoed from the shrine, scaring the wits out of a still slightly guilty Onkei. Dropping her basket of pungent herbs from the tiny garden she kept, she sprinted into the darkened recesses of the shrine. The huddled group of people signaled her to the trouble at hand. As she pushed her way forward, she nearly fainted herself. There he was, lying on the floor. Someone had his fingers pressed to his throat and an ear pressed to his lips. As her eyes began to focus once more, she saw him, the stranger lift his face to the crowd and shake his head before starting CPR.
Only one thing was said, “Call an ambulance!” Galvanized into action, Onkei fled to her home on the outskirts of the shrine.
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Nearly four hours later, Onkei found herself gazing wide-eyed at the doctor in front of her. It had taken her forever to get away from the shrine after calming down all her patrons and now she was being told that she couldn’t see her friend? It was some silly rule about only family allowed after visiting hours.
A desperate look clouded her face. “At least tell me what’s wrong with him!” she pleaded to the tired looking doctor.
The frazzled woman sighed again. “I’ve already told you, there are patient-doctor confidentiality issues I’d be in violation of if I said anything.”
“But,” Onkei quibbled, feeling overwhelmed. “I really need to know. He won’t tell me anything,” she whispered staring through the tiny window into the room beyond were he was sleeping quietly hooked up to busy, complicated looking machinery.
Dr. Jiang slumped. It had been a long day and the woman in front of her wasn’t helping. Gazing at the sky above her for patience, she again repeated herself. “I can’t tell you specifically what’s wrong with him, but I can tell you this. His body went into shock this evening which caused him to faint. The underlying cause of that is something we’ve been monitoring for some time now, and while it is not yet a fatal concern, it is something that will only get worse with time.” Jiang gazed sharply into the shrine maiden’s face. “Does that satisfy you now?”
Onkei nodded, barely noticing the good doctor leave her alone.
Shinkei was sick, and there was nothing she could do to help. Turning away from the barred door, she slowly made the long walk home. When she returned the next day, it was only to discover he had already been checked out and sent home. He did not return to the shrine.
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It was nearly four months later when a new stranger made his way up the shrine steps. This time, she was shoveling a path from her home to the shrine and each to the steps. It had snowed heavily during the night, and she needed to make sure no one would break an ankle coming up the steps before her first guest arrived. It nearly unnerved her to see one at a quarter till six bouncing from step to step, especially an elderly man of maybe sixty years. Most protested the long climb citing arthritic joints as probably cause, but not this one.
This one didn’t care about the hidden ice that might be lying underneath his uncaring soles.
“Hello?” the old man called, attempting to penetrate the still dark enshrouded morning lit only by a few remaining sputtering oil lamps.
Onkei cleared her throat and raised her gloved covered hand. “I’m over here!” she called waiting with fearful breath as he scurried over the hills and dales of the fresh snow fall.
“Hello miss,” the man said charmingly as he grabbed her hand to shake it enthusiastically. “I’m glad to see you’re up and about this early in the morning. I was afraid I’d have to wait a few hours before I could talk to you!”
Onkei backed up a tiny step and regained her slightly bruised hand. “I’m glad I’m awake as well. May I ask who you are?”
A twinkle shined in the old man’s eyes as his breath made a plume of vapor. “Of course!” Giving a leggy bow, he distinctly intoned, “Higurashi Kochō. Glad to meet you!” He grinned widely at her.
Onkei leaned forward, grabbing onto the old man’s sleeve. “Did you say Higurashi?” She could hardly believe it. After so long, she might finally find out what was wrong with Shinkei!
Kochō patted the young girls arm. “I must say, you have excellent hearing! My last name is indeed Higurashi. Excellent hearing.”
Before she could open her mouth up to ask her questions, the old man beat her to the chase, dazzling her yet again with his energy. “Let me help you with the shoveling. I can't let a poor girl do this all alone. It wouldn’t be right.”
Whisking the shovel from her hands, he started flinging snow haphazardly around, spraying her with softness. Talking as he worked, she soon came to realize as she followed slowly behind him that the old man knew not of whom she was, asking small questions about the shrine and its teachings. It seemed as though he was most interested in digging her brain for ancient remedies for ailments citing an ache in his joint and fainting spells. There was also something about rejuvenating fading eyesight.
Some of the symptoms, she remembered observing in Shinkei and made her wonder if perhaps he did it out of love for his son. What really hurt though was that this was the fourth shrine he had visited over the last few weeks. Not even Shinkei’s own father knew of her, and she had thought she meant something to the man, whether just as a friend or more.
Her heart bleed broken tears as she continued to nod and chat with the elder man.
“So, as you can see, I was hoping that with a shrine this old still hanging around that you might have some old tomes or references I could dig through. There’s nothing like the wisdom of ages to get you through the day!” Kochō was wheezing slightly under the strain of clearing out the grounds. All that remained were the steps, which Onkei had already adamantly refused to allow him to do.
Onkei nodded slowly. “I have several in the attic inside my house. You are welcome to browse through them at will.” Motioning him to follow, she lead the way into her spotless home and pointed him to the attic.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll make some tea so that it’s warm when you come back downstairs. I have some other duties I need to see to before the rest of my patrons come by.”
Bowing her way back outside, she brushed the tears from her eyes.
-\-\--|--/-/-
Two weeks and an enthusiastic elder adorning her doorstep from dawn until noon later, she was about ready to pull her hair out by the roots. The things that man was coming up with about made her fear for any man’s health!!! He nearly frightened even Buyo, the laziest cat ever, away with the strange concoctions he jotted down and murmured frantically under his breath.
Leaning her weary head against her couch, she sighed in relief. No more Higurashi for 18 hours. As her eyes started to drift shut in blissful peace, a loud knock reverberated through the tiny family room. Groaning, she laboriously regained her feet to answer the door. As she slid the screen open, she gasped.
A tired looking, highly irate Shinkei stood there dressed warmly in a grey long coat. Glaring at the not-so-innocent shrine maiden, he muttered, “If you ever decide to help my father again, so help me, I’m never coming back here!”
Onkei smiled. “Then I’ll be sure to lock my attic away from him.” As she moved aside, she motioned him to come in. Now that he was back, she would be patient. She would ask only as much as he was willing to give because his absences hurt more then the silences.
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That winter, they shared many cups of tea and many silences. It had been one particularly cold and windy night that the silence at last was broken. Kochō was still reading ancient tomes in the kitchen, and they had retired to the family room, unwilling to deny the old man something that obviously excited him so much. Besides, visitors loved him and his oddball ideas of history and remedies.
Onkei had been quietly sipping her tea and listening to the wind howl around her home, content to bask in the joy of having company. It wasn’t until Shinkei grabbed her hand that she even knew he was talking to her.
“Onkei,” he murmured, shifting nervously in his seat next to her. “I have something I need to tell you, about that time I passed out.”
Onkei turned to face him fully, eyes barely containing the excitement in them; he was finally trusting her with his secret. A genuine smile flitted across her face as she patted his hand in encouragement.
He grasped her hand tightly, causing the knuckles to show white against the dark fabric of his trousers. “I -I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, but I’ve been afraid this spell, this peaceful friendship will end.” Rawness seeped into his voice, “Gods, I’ve needed some peace this last year.”
Free hand trembling, he combed his fingers through his hair, a slight sheen of perspiration dully glinting in the lamplight. “I’m sick, Onkei, and it’s something that will never go away according to my doctors.”
She moved closer to him, trying to overpower his despair by presence alone. “That’s okay,” she whispered. “We all die eventually, some sooner then others.” They were not very comforting words, she knew, but it was all she could think of at the moment as her heart constricted as her fears were once again confirmed.
Shinkei laughed harshly. “Well, I’ll die when my kidneys fail. I’ve been told I have Diabetes mellitus or something like that. Pretty much no matter what I eat, I have to be careful or my sugar levels will get to high and cause my body to go into shock like it did in the fall. It could happen at any time and there won’t be much warning.”
Onkei moved a little closer, opening her mouth to murmur in commiseration, but he cut her off, not willing to lose his momentum before he was done. “I’ve also been told that my vision will deteriorate quickly, making me legally blind within five years if I’m not careful, maybe longer if I am. They just don’t know how to prevent this from progressing; they’ve barely started making headway in a cure. I have to go to a doctor every few weeks to get a prescription for insulin. That’s how I found this shrine, walking home from the hospital.”
Tears threatened to leak from his eyes as his hand gripped Onkei’s even tighter. “I don’t think I could continue living like this if it wasn’t for this shrine and all the help you’ve given me.”
Onkei stared in bemusement. “I’m happy to be here with you, Shinkei. I prayed for company, someone who wouldn’t mind lingering a few hours here and there to talk to me that day I ran into you. So you saved me just as much as I you. We needed each other’s friendship, I think.”
Shinkei laughed, this time a little softer and freer in spirit. “I’m glad Onkei. I’m glad.”
Silence descended over them again oddly punctuated with the sound of muttering and exclamations from the kitchen. They took comfort in truth shed and the clasping of their hands still held between them.
-\-\--|--/-/-
Onkei picked up her tea-cup and took a sip of the now lukewarm liquid. She had been sitting in the dark, watching the gently falling snow when she lost herself in memories. It was now sixteen years after she met her husband, and she was once again waiting for someone dear to come home.
“Kagome,” she whispered, thinking of her daughter and what most mothers would think if they knew what she let her do. It’s true; her behavior seemed almost negligent, allowing her daughter to run around five hundred years in the past with a rude half-demon and assorted friends fighting against evil.
In a way, they would be right. But there was one thing she learned watching her husband slowly die of diabetes. She learned that not all fates were easy, and the slow awareness of an inevitable death was worse then suddenly finding death upon you. Kagome may be facing death and injury everyday she spent in the past, but it was no worse then the death from a drunk driver, or a train moving just a little bit to fast around a corner.
Then there was the possible death of acquiring the same disease as her father. She still followed the news as they got closer and closer to a cure. They understood so much more now about how it worked then the doctors back then did. There were things they knew helped prevent one from acquiring it. While it had not comforted her to know her children were at risk, she could take comfort in knowing that an active life-style would do much to alleviate that fear.
So, in a way, she was saving her daughter by sending her to the past. She got the best exercise one could ask for running after jewel shards, honing her skills and survival instincts. And once habits were acquired, they were hard to break. She could only hope that once Kagome’s duty was done, she would be able to keep her body fit.
And there was one more reason she allowed, no needed, Kagome to return time and again to the past. Kochō, or Jii-chan as he was now lovingly called, would not be around forever to take care of the shrine duties that she, herself was no longer able to take care of. She had been forced to find work outside the shrine when Shinkei’s vision deteriorated completely, nearly a year before Souta’s birth.
When she asked Kagome to become the newest generation of shrine-maiden, she wanted to know that Kagome would be ready for it. After all, if she prevented her little girl from pursuing her duty as she saw fit now, how could she ask her to follow duty later on?
Onkei sighed as she sipped again from her tea-cup. Life, it seemed, constantly kept her on her toes with worry, wondering if one of these days the loves in her life would not find their way back home to the shrine. As was her wont, she could only support them in their hour of need, accept their decisions, and pray that death did not find them too quickly. Sometimes, she hated the waiting.
Onkei’s ears perked up as the quiet sliding of the screen in its track signaled another safe return home. She smiled as she watched a thin, muscular body tiptoe past the kitchen and up the stairs, pausing every so often as the wood creaked beneath her feet. She could go to sleep now, content in knowing Kagome would live to see another sunrise. She could sleep easily tonight, putting the fears and worries of the next trip into the unknown away for a moment of peace.
The end
Author’s Name: parsnip-chan
Written For: naybob and the September challenge at iy_flashfic
Pairing or Character: Mama Higurashi/Papa Higurashi, Jiichan
Rating: PG
Spoiler Warnings:
Author’s Note: I hope this orig-I mean Inuyasha backstory fic hit the spot ^_^
The Shrine
Onkei leisurely swept clean the shrine steps. Business had been slow of late since festival season ended some few weeks ago. She missed the bustle of people meandering, paying homage to Goshinboku and in general seeking solace in the temple and surrounding grounds. It was a busy time though and required round the clock maintenance to keep the trash from piling up and mud from marring the stone pathway.
It was peaceful now, calm after so much laughter as children ran around the square in traditional dress and parents gathered together to gossip and giggle like chickens . It was usually a tranquil place to devote her life to, one that had been passed down from mother to daughter for twelve generations. Yes, each was given the option to pursue her own life, but at least one member always stayed as caretaker. She had been an only child, yet never regretted the tradition.
Still, on these quiet days, it’d be nice for a little company, someone to talk the long hours away. It was always thus. She loved people, enjoyed watching their antics and their dramas unfolding in front of her eyes. She sometimes wished there was someone special to share the duties with, but she never complained.
Swish, swish, swish. The broom kept up its steady side to side movement as she traveled down the steps, lost in her thoughts.
The bristles pressed into the white stone, sunlight glinting off the edge causing sunbursts to spot her vision, but she paid little attention to the noise, the monotony of the task. She was a shrine maiden; her duty was her life.
As she stepped onto the sidewalk, she felt herself collide with a passing stranger. Her head lifting, she covered her mouth with one hand as the broom fell to the ground with a thud. Cheeks blushing prettily, she bowed her head. “Sorry, I was not paying attention to where I was going.”
The man smiled weakly, and nodded his head. “It’s alright, I ran into you myself thinking I might see where these stairs led.”
Onkei smiled cheerfully. “I can save you a trip for curiosity’s sake then.” She bowed again before stating, “At the top lies a Shinto Shrine. It has been cared for by a long family of priestesses for nearly five hundred years.”
The man nodded, intrigued. “And does this shrine have a name?” he queried.
Onkei blushed. “It has had many names through the years, though the most consistent one is the Sunset Shrine. Some also refer to it as the Inochi shrine to reflect its current caretaker.”
“Thank-you,” he replied gazing upwards at the long trek. “Thank-you,” he murmured before heading down the sidewalk away from her.
Onkei frowned. She had rather hoped the man would be more talkative and keep her company. She shrugged the meeting off as she bent to pick up her discarded broom. He looked a little pale anyways. Staying out in the sun would probably give him sunburn.
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She saw him again about two weeks later, gazing at the shrine, almost afraid to enter its smoothly polished walls. She had been cleaning out one of the old storage sheds, dirt everywhere and covered in cobwebs. She could almost swear her hair was grey with dust. Still, despite her disheveled appearance, she wondered if she should attempt conversation again.
He appeared lost as he shifted from one foot to the next, eyes glued to the shrine. His complexion looked a little better today; perhaps it was a result of trekking up the steps? Exercise did wonders for him. Still, she didn’t want to scare him away again, and dressed as she was in an old ragged skirt and dirt smeared white blouse, she would be sure to do so.
Torn between hesitation and embarrassment, the decision was taken out of her hands as the stranger turned abruptly and walked away, defeat weighing down his shoulders. Frowning, she watched him disappear before looking back at the temple.
Decision made, she strode briskly into the shrine, dirt and all, and lit an incense stick before settling down for some meditation. She would be ready the next time he stopped by.
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She waited a whole month this time, and she was careful to make sure she stayed away from spring, or in this case summer, cleaning. It had been a long wait. There was only so much light cleaning the shrine could take! For that matter, there was only so much idleness she could stand herself, but she persevered. She would not be caught unaware again.
This time, when he came, it was near dusk, and she was lighting the lamps that would allow her late night visitors to find their meandering way around the grounds. When he crested the hill, she was poised on the ladder, refilling the oil before lighting its carefully trimmed wick. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him watching her perform the ritual task, shoulders hunched and hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.
“I’ll be with you in a moment,” she called as she dusted her hands and gathered her materials together before descending from her perch. Smiling, she set everything on the ground, leaving her task only half finished. She would not give him an opportunity to run away again.
Walking up to him, she held her hand out in western fashion, hoping he’d take it as a sign of goodwill. It would also force him to relax and keep him from hiding his hands and consequently himself. After staring at the offering and watching the shrine maiden’s smile gently shine in the fading light, he took it tentatively before letting it go, barely giving her a chance to squeeze it in welcome.
Eyes sweeping over him, she again noted the paleness of his face, the listlessness in his eyes. This was a man that needed something; perhaps religion would grant him what he sought.
Clearing her throat, she gestured toward the shrine. “Have you been in one of these before?” she asked quietly, her voice gently inserting itself between the heavy layers of silence.
“Not often,” he replied, voice wavering a little. “I am not a religious man by nature.”
She nodded thoughtfully. She had already deduced that much. “Well, why don’t I give you a tour then and explain some of the basics.”
The man shifted nervously. “But don’t you have to finish lighting the lanterns?” he asked, unsure if he wanted company or not. He came only because the peace that exuded from this place would not leave him alone. It was something he craved and feared. There was not much peace in his life.
“Don’t worry about it. Enough are lit for the moment to see by. I’ll finish the rest after we’re done.” Gesturing with her hand, she waited for him to start walking before following slightly behind him.
“My name is Inochi Onkei, by the way.”
The man glanced slightly behind him at the woman. A serious expression fell across her face, displacing the cheerful smile she had worn each time they met. As equally grave, he told her his own, “Higurashi Shinkei.”
-\-\--|--/-/-
A low hum filled the shrine today, causing the handful of visitors to smile. They had watched the shrine maiden blossom with new life as the months passed and a new festival came and went. Most knew of the young lad, some said in his early thirties to Onkei’s mid-twenties, who came and left quietly, barely leaving a ripple save that the humming got louder and the air seemed to hold an extra ounce of contentment.
It was a good thing that was slowly unfolding in the well-kept shrine, and the regular patrons were eager to continue watching this new story unfold. Some had been around the last time a shrine maiden found her match and knew that the shrine cared for its own in time.
It was told that the ageless Goshinboku protected his keeper, just as they cared for him. He made sure that when the time was right, a new soul mate was called forward to ensure the line continued unbroken through the ages. Sometimes the story was a sweet one, full of gentle lovers, and other times the story was filled with hate and anger. In the end, it was exactly what the each priestess needed, grounding in faith and an heir.
They were eager to see this one starting on a lighter note with shy smiles and whispered conversations. It gave them hope for a happy ending, one they knew Inochi Onkei deserved for devoting herself so fully to tradition.
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Onkei’s gaze sidled over each patron, avoiding the knowing smiles adorning their faces and the wisdom shining in their eyes. She knew the old stories, but she dared not believe that Shinkei was called here to be her companion, lover, mate, husband. An aura of despair seemed to follow him; heartache she had been unable to lift despite how hard she tried. He needed the shrine and its teachings more then he needed her.
Still, she knew she was lost when her heart-beat skipped in joy when his tousled hair bounced into view as he crested the landing, the faint chill of fall making his cheeks look extra rosy. Walking a little faster then normal, she eagerly greeted him, hand extended for a well reciprocated handshake. It had become their own, tiny tradition since that summer night not so long ago.
“I’m glad you made it today,” Onkei said as her hand fell back to her side. She really was. His visits sometimes were so erratic they made her heart heavy with dread that he had been scared off for good.
Shinkei stuffed his hands back into his pocket. He had nearly decided to stay away, far away from the shrine. But, it wasn’t fair to her, and it wasn’t fair to him either. It was hard not to notice her drop everything when he came by. Sometimes she just walked him to the shrine; sometimes she followed him inside and played at straightening the incense sticks and tatami mats. Sometimes, he wished he didn’t enjoy watching her flit about, catching his eye with her efficient motions and bubbling attitude. Sometimes, he wished he never heard about the shrine.
Shaking his somber thoughts from his mind, he steeled his shoulders back, determined to enjoy another day, another moment in this young woman’s life. It was the only time he felt something other then lethargic in his long days of nothingness and work. At times, he thought that his erratic visits to the shrine were the only thing that got him out of bed.
“So where were you the past few days?” she innocently inquired as they made their slow way across the courtyard. She had noticed the tiny flickering of shadow covering his aura, fading in and out as the sun does when a cloud races across it.
His brows scrunched together as a shutter fell across his face.
Her breath nearly stopped when he closed her off, guilt suffusing her soul. She had not meant to cause distress. She had just been sad that she had not been able to touch his hand yesterday and the two days prior.
“I was busy,” he replied as he took off for the shrine and ducked through the entrance. As he knelt in front of the shrine to light a fresh stick of sweet smelling scent, he berated himself internally for causing her stress, but he could not bear to tell his secret, his greatest fear. To do so would be to taint this place and the one woman who was his only beacon in the night. He would be broken if he ever lost them both.
As he settled on the mat, he closed his eyes in silent prayer. “Please don’t let me lose her. Please don’t let her find out.”
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A muffled scream echoed from the shrine, scaring the wits out of a still slightly guilty Onkei. Dropping her basket of pungent herbs from the tiny garden she kept, she sprinted into the darkened recesses of the shrine. The huddled group of people signaled her to the trouble at hand. As she pushed her way forward, she nearly fainted herself. There he was, lying on the floor. Someone had his fingers pressed to his throat and an ear pressed to his lips. As her eyes began to focus once more, she saw him, the stranger lift his face to the crowd and shake his head before starting CPR.
Only one thing was said, “Call an ambulance!” Galvanized into action, Onkei fled to her home on the outskirts of the shrine.
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Nearly four hours later, Onkei found herself gazing wide-eyed at the doctor in front of her. It had taken her forever to get away from the shrine after calming down all her patrons and now she was being told that she couldn’t see her friend? It was some silly rule about only family allowed after visiting hours.
A desperate look clouded her face. “At least tell me what’s wrong with him!” she pleaded to the tired looking doctor.
The frazzled woman sighed again. “I’ve already told you, there are patient-doctor confidentiality issues I’d be in violation of if I said anything.”
“But,” Onkei quibbled, feeling overwhelmed. “I really need to know. He won’t tell me anything,” she whispered staring through the tiny window into the room beyond were he was sleeping quietly hooked up to busy, complicated looking machinery.
Dr. Jiang slumped. It had been a long day and the woman in front of her wasn’t helping. Gazing at the sky above her for patience, she again repeated herself. “I can’t tell you specifically what’s wrong with him, but I can tell you this. His body went into shock this evening which caused him to faint. The underlying cause of that is something we’ve been monitoring for some time now, and while it is not yet a fatal concern, it is something that will only get worse with time.” Jiang gazed sharply into the shrine maiden’s face. “Does that satisfy you now?”
Onkei nodded, barely noticing the good doctor leave her alone.
Shinkei was sick, and there was nothing she could do to help. Turning away from the barred door, she slowly made the long walk home. When she returned the next day, it was only to discover he had already been checked out and sent home. He did not return to the shrine.
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It was nearly four months later when a new stranger made his way up the shrine steps. This time, she was shoveling a path from her home to the shrine and each to the steps. It had snowed heavily during the night, and she needed to make sure no one would break an ankle coming up the steps before her first guest arrived. It nearly unnerved her to see one at a quarter till six bouncing from step to step, especially an elderly man of maybe sixty years. Most protested the long climb citing arthritic joints as probably cause, but not this one.
This one didn’t care about the hidden ice that might be lying underneath his uncaring soles.
“Hello?” the old man called, attempting to penetrate the still dark enshrouded morning lit only by a few remaining sputtering oil lamps.
Onkei cleared her throat and raised her gloved covered hand. “I’m over here!” she called waiting with fearful breath as he scurried over the hills and dales of the fresh snow fall.
“Hello miss,” the man said charmingly as he grabbed her hand to shake it enthusiastically. “I’m glad to see you’re up and about this early in the morning. I was afraid I’d have to wait a few hours before I could talk to you!”
Onkei backed up a tiny step and regained her slightly bruised hand. “I’m glad I’m awake as well. May I ask who you are?”
A twinkle shined in the old man’s eyes as his breath made a plume of vapor. “Of course!” Giving a leggy bow, he distinctly intoned, “Higurashi Kochō. Glad to meet you!” He grinned widely at her.
Onkei leaned forward, grabbing onto the old man’s sleeve. “Did you say Higurashi?” She could hardly believe it. After so long, she might finally find out what was wrong with Shinkei!
Kochō patted the young girls arm. “I must say, you have excellent hearing! My last name is indeed Higurashi. Excellent hearing.”
Before she could open her mouth up to ask her questions, the old man beat her to the chase, dazzling her yet again with his energy. “Let me help you with the shoveling. I can't let a poor girl do this all alone. It wouldn’t be right.”
Whisking the shovel from her hands, he started flinging snow haphazardly around, spraying her with softness. Talking as he worked, she soon came to realize as she followed slowly behind him that the old man knew not of whom she was, asking small questions about the shrine and its teachings. It seemed as though he was most interested in digging her brain for ancient remedies for ailments citing an ache in his joint and fainting spells. There was also something about rejuvenating fading eyesight.
Some of the symptoms, she remembered observing in Shinkei and made her wonder if perhaps he did it out of love for his son. What really hurt though was that this was the fourth shrine he had visited over the last few weeks. Not even Shinkei’s own father knew of her, and she had thought she meant something to the man, whether just as a friend or more.
Her heart bleed broken tears as she continued to nod and chat with the elder man.
“So, as you can see, I was hoping that with a shrine this old still hanging around that you might have some old tomes or references I could dig through. There’s nothing like the wisdom of ages to get you through the day!” Kochō was wheezing slightly under the strain of clearing out the grounds. All that remained were the steps, which Onkei had already adamantly refused to allow him to do.
Onkei nodded slowly. “I have several in the attic inside my house. You are welcome to browse through them at will.” Motioning him to follow, she lead the way into her spotless home and pointed him to the attic.
“If you’ll excuse me, I’ll make some tea so that it’s warm when you come back downstairs. I have some other duties I need to see to before the rest of my patrons come by.”
Bowing her way back outside, she brushed the tears from her eyes.
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Two weeks and an enthusiastic elder adorning her doorstep from dawn until noon later, she was about ready to pull her hair out by the roots. The things that man was coming up with about made her fear for any man’s health!!! He nearly frightened even Buyo, the laziest cat ever, away with the strange concoctions he jotted down and murmured frantically under his breath.
Leaning her weary head against her couch, she sighed in relief. No more Higurashi for 18 hours. As her eyes started to drift shut in blissful peace, a loud knock reverberated through the tiny family room. Groaning, she laboriously regained her feet to answer the door. As she slid the screen open, she gasped.
A tired looking, highly irate Shinkei stood there dressed warmly in a grey long coat. Glaring at the not-so-innocent shrine maiden, he muttered, “If you ever decide to help my father again, so help me, I’m never coming back here!”
Onkei smiled. “Then I’ll be sure to lock my attic away from him.” As she moved aside, she motioned him to come in. Now that he was back, she would be patient. She would ask only as much as he was willing to give because his absences hurt more then the silences.
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That winter, they shared many cups of tea and many silences. It had been one particularly cold and windy night that the silence at last was broken. Kochō was still reading ancient tomes in the kitchen, and they had retired to the family room, unwilling to deny the old man something that obviously excited him so much. Besides, visitors loved him and his oddball ideas of history and remedies.
Onkei had been quietly sipping her tea and listening to the wind howl around her home, content to bask in the joy of having company. It wasn’t until Shinkei grabbed her hand that she even knew he was talking to her.
“Onkei,” he murmured, shifting nervously in his seat next to her. “I have something I need to tell you, about that time I passed out.”
Onkei turned to face him fully, eyes barely containing the excitement in them; he was finally trusting her with his secret. A genuine smile flitted across her face as she patted his hand in encouragement.
He grasped her hand tightly, causing the knuckles to show white against the dark fabric of his trousers. “I -I’ve wanted to tell you so many times, but I’ve been afraid this spell, this peaceful friendship will end.” Rawness seeped into his voice, “Gods, I’ve needed some peace this last year.”
Free hand trembling, he combed his fingers through his hair, a slight sheen of perspiration dully glinting in the lamplight. “I’m sick, Onkei, and it’s something that will never go away according to my doctors.”
She moved closer to him, trying to overpower his despair by presence alone. “That’s okay,” she whispered. “We all die eventually, some sooner then others.” They were not very comforting words, she knew, but it was all she could think of at the moment as her heart constricted as her fears were once again confirmed.
Shinkei laughed harshly. “Well, I’ll die when my kidneys fail. I’ve been told I have Diabetes mellitus or something like that. Pretty much no matter what I eat, I have to be careful or my sugar levels will get to high and cause my body to go into shock like it did in the fall. It could happen at any time and there won’t be much warning.”
Onkei moved a little closer, opening her mouth to murmur in commiseration, but he cut her off, not willing to lose his momentum before he was done. “I’ve also been told that my vision will deteriorate quickly, making me legally blind within five years if I’m not careful, maybe longer if I am. They just don’t know how to prevent this from progressing; they’ve barely started making headway in a cure. I have to go to a doctor every few weeks to get a prescription for insulin. That’s how I found this shrine, walking home from the hospital.”
Tears threatened to leak from his eyes as his hand gripped Onkei’s even tighter. “I don’t think I could continue living like this if it wasn’t for this shrine and all the help you’ve given me.”
Onkei stared in bemusement. “I’m happy to be here with you, Shinkei. I prayed for company, someone who wouldn’t mind lingering a few hours here and there to talk to me that day I ran into you. So you saved me just as much as I you. We needed each other’s friendship, I think.”
Shinkei laughed, this time a little softer and freer in spirit. “I’m glad Onkei. I’m glad.”
Silence descended over them again oddly punctuated with the sound of muttering and exclamations from the kitchen. They took comfort in truth shed and the clasping of their hands still held between them.
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Onkei picked up her tea-cup and took a sip of the now lukewarm liquid. She had been sitting in the dark, watching the gently falling snow when she lost herself in memories. It was now sixteen years after she met her husband, and she was once again waiting for someone dear to come home.
“Kagome,” she whispered, thinking of her daughter and what most mothers would think if they knew what she let her do. It’s true; her behavior seemed almost negligent, allowing her daughter to run around five hundred years in the past with a rude half-demon and assorted friends fighting against evil.
In a way, they would be right. But there was one thing she learned watching her husband slowly die of diabetes. She learned that not all fates were easy, and the slow awareness of an inevitable death was worse then suddenly finding death upon you. Kagome may be facing death and injury everyday she spent in the past, but it was no worse then the death from a drunk driver, or a train moving just a little bit to fast around a corner.
Then there was the possible death of acquiring the same disease as her father. She still followed the news as they got closer and closer to a cure. They understood so much more now about how it worked then the doctors back then did. There were things they knew helped prevent one from acquiring it. While it had not comforted her to know her children were at risk, she could take comfort in knowing that an active life-style would do much to alleviate that fear.
So, in a way, she was saving her daughter by sending her to the past. She got the best exercise one could ask for running after jewel shards, honing her skills and survival instincts. And once habits were acquired, they were hard to break. She could only hope that once Kagome’s duty was done, she would be able to keep her body fit.
And there was one more reason she allowed, no needed, Kagome to return time and again to the past. Kochō, or Jii-chan as he was now lovingly called, would not be around forever to take care of the shrine duties that she, herself was no longer able to take care of. She had been forced to find work outside the shrine when Shinkei’s vision deteriorated completely, nearly a year before Souta’s birth.
When she asked Kagome to become the newest generation of shrine-maiden, she wanted to know that Kagome would be ready for it. After all, if she prevented her little girl from pursuing her duty as she saw fit now, how could she ask her to follow duty later on?
Onkei sighed as she sipped again from her tea-cup. Life, it seemed, constantly kept her on her toes with worry, wondering if one of these days the loves in her life would not find their way back home to the shrine. As was her wont, she could only support them in their hour of need, accept their decisions, and pray that death did not find them too quickly. Sometimes, she hated the waiting.
Onkei’s ears perked up as the quiet sliding of the screen in its track signaled another safe return home. She smiled as she watched a thin, muscular body tiptoe past the kitchen and up the stairs, pausing every so often as the wood creaked beneath her feet. She could go to sleep now, content in knowing Kagome would live to see another sunrise. She could sleep easily tonight, putting the fears and worries of the next trip into the unknown away for a moment of peace.
The end