These Our Actors by Meian no Uta

The Story is Remembered

The woman stood, her back facing the travelers. The wind, strong and cold so high in the mountains, blew away the wisps of smoke from the remains of a small fire. Slowly, the woman turned to peer at the latest truth seekers.

Her face, which once must have been beautiful, was lined with sorrow and anger. Her black hair, streaked with silver fluttered in the playful breeze. She smiled, a mockery full of bitter disappointment.

"Have you come seeking truth, or simply knowledge? For I may give one, or both, depending on your story. Sit." The woman sat, and stirred the ashes of the fire pit, unearthing blazing coals. After rebuilding the fire, she looked up at the two villagers, still standing. "I said sit."

The two sat, and one, the man, drew out a small package from his coat. He handed it to the woman.

"I have questions, about many things. My wife here, she came in hopes that you will bless her. We are expecting out first child." He smiled, and the old woman took a better look at the two.

The man was a charmer. Someone who relied on looks to make someone like them. She knew the type. Players. His clothes were, from what she could tell, the latest fashions. His black hair was rather long, but pulled back, as to not obscure his face.

The woman, however, was different. She carried within her the kind of strength she rarely saw. She would keep the man in line. And she would be a good, if slightly over-protective mother.

The old woman had known two such as these long ago. They would be gone, but it was nice to see such couples still existed. The past truly did repeat itself.

"You may ask, young man, and I may answer. What is it you wish to know?" The man stirred restlessly.

"I am Taka. This is Sadako. We met long ago, as children. My grandfather was still alive then. He told us stories of demons, and of a human priestess who purified something known as the Shikon no Tama. He said that the jewel disappeared because the priestess fell in love with a demon. In the story, the priestess killed herself because she had let love destroy the jewel. The demon loved her so much that when she died, he killed himself as well. He had this painting of the priestess."

He pointed at the package, and she unrolled it to find a picture of a beautiful young woman, holding the jewel and in the arms of a tall, silver haired man.

"Your grandfather was a romantic, then. There was a human girl, who fell in and out of love with a demon lord. But he did not love her as much as you may believe. He did not die for her, but from her."

"My grandfather said that demons were real. That the story was true. Is it?"

"Do you have time to hear the true story?"

"We do, Grandmother." It was the first time the young woman had spoken. The old woman glanced at her for a second. Her face softened at the hope on the woman's face.

"I will have time after the story to bless you, child. Be comfortable, and listen." The woman looked at the painting. "No, it was not quite as romantic as that, I am afraid." She placed the painting next to the fire, and began.

"There was once a human priestess, named Kagome. She did indeed have charge of the Shikon no Tama, but not the entire jewel. It had been shattered, by her own arrow. So for a while, she traveled the land, seeking the shards of the jewel. She found the last shards, with the help of a demon lord, named Sesshoumaru. After defeating the evil hanyou Naraku, she was left to guard the jewel. This is the story of the time after. It begins, with the end."