Birdsong

8/12/o7 sun.

"Where is he." A demand more than it is a question. Her voice as cold as the ice she can summon. She stands at the open mouth of the cave, staring in at the only inhabitant who would possibly know the answer to her bold inquiry.

Harochi, sitting down on a large rock, blinks at the dark priestess some number of yards away from him. She is older than when he had met her. Her eyes hard, a small frown on her face. Her ceremonial robes sway slightly in the passing breeze, and his mind races.

She takes a step forward, the action alone speaking louder than words. She won't ask again.

The old man sighs, more so to himself than anything, and sets down his empty cup. "He's gone."

Her eyes narrowed in irritation, and he could only think about how kids these days have no patience. "I believe he said he was going to head home."

She knows. She knows home means death. And it would seem that he had finally given up, and was quite ready for it. Welcoming it, even.

Birdsong plays in the background of this new silence. Neither of them move. Harochi tilts his head in the miko's general direction, before he asks "And what was it you wanted, Satome-dono?"

Her lips thin by a fraction, before she answers "I came to kill him," as though this was a trifle thing.

He nods somberly, looking back down at the bottom of his cup. "I figured that much, from what he told me. Shame though. I thought you would've been the one to save him."

She says nothing, and the birdsong becomes more audible again. Instead, she turns on her heel and begins to leave.

He can't let her leave just yet, so he calls out to her. She pauses. Then looks over her shoulder at him. My, her hair had gotten longer since then.

"Before you go, I was told to give you this." He turns, reaching behind his boulder, obviously looking for something.

Her eyebrows furrow, and confusion plays with her facial features. She turns, and her lips part. "He knew I would come here?" she asks after a moment's hesitation.

"Well of course," the ancient prophet answers without missing a beat. "He was, after all, the man you were going to marry."

Thoughts of marriage, of a future, thoughts of being happy together forever. She remembers when he kneeled before her, holding a sparkling ring as hope filled his eyes, his lips quirked in that smile he gets when he's nervous but doesn't want her to know.

A fluttering feeling skittered around in her stomach, and she automatically raised her hand to settle her palm flat against her hakama, trying to quell that emotion.

She would not–

...She would not...

He finally pulls up a parcel wrapped in brown paper, and holds it with care. The object is as big as his hand. "His last words before he left, were 'Tell her that no amount of words could ever express the happiness she has given to me.'"

The fluttering feeling returns, but is quickly fought off. Her feet carry her with grace towards the sitting mentor, and he holds the item up to her. Her hand appears from beneath the flowing sleeve of her dark blue haori, and quickly confiscates the unknown object.

As she unties the delicate knot from the thin rope holding the paper together, Harochi leans over and takes hold of the neck from an unmarked jug. He pours himself some unknown, clear liquid into his cup, and waits. The rope dances in the air as it makes its way down to the cool floor of the cave, and crinkling is heard as the dark priestess peels away the edges of the paper.

Amidst the folds lies a toy. A light pink hippopotamus, with a soft to the touch fabric. Its stomach made of a bean bag, and inside, the sound of little beads shifting ever so slightly is heard. The pink hippo stares up at lilac eyes with shiny, black beady ones.

She stares back at it. She continues staring, until her vision blurs and before she knows it, hot tears roll down her cheeks. Astounded by the seemingly random break in her strength, she doesn't know what to do to stop the tears. So she just lets them fall, in countless amounts on their own accord.

As the old prophet raises the cup to his lips, he watches her carefully. He sees her lax expression. He sees the way her eyes blur. He sees the way memories play in her mind. And he sees the tears run down her face and fall off her chin.

And he has hope.

He smiles to himself and takes a sip of his drink.