Even in sleep, Amaya was not granted much peace. Her unconsciousness was fitful, plagued by flickering, indistinct visions of things she did not understand, and other things she was almost certain she remembered. She had been told that this was normal, that at times she would glimpse fragments of lives she had lived in the past, but some of the things she dreamed⊠they seemed different from that. She could feel emotions, manifesting as colored lights and interweaving in front of her eyes. Black and white danced around one another, rarely touching, only to explode in multi-hued rainbows when they did, and then back off again. Reds and blues and greens threaded from these points of contact outwards, expanding long beyond her perception. She felt sound and smelled musicâshe tasted anger and darkness and the bitter tang of betrayal on her tongue.
Something danced through her veins where the blood in her body used to lie, something electric and tinged with spice. She could feel the foreign sensation more keenly than anything else she remembered, and just barely catch the edge of some whispered mantra, in a voice she knew perhaps better than her own. It had been the one constant in her life since she had come to be hereâit was his voice.
Shiroâs.
But she could not quite make out the words, and unwillingly, she was dragged from sleep and into wakefulness, cracking her eyelids and sitting up in her futon with a groan. Her head swam for a moment, but eventually, she was able to blink everything into some semblance of clarity. She realized sheâd woken in her own room, which was simply another monkâs cell with little more than a futon and a trunk. She had several pieces of simple art on the walls as well, but other than that, it was basically identical to every other bedchamber in the place.
Pushing several strands of white-blonde hair out of her face, as sheâd apparently come down with a major case of bedhead, she was unsurprised to find that she was still dressed in the white kimono from yesterday⊠or whenever that had been. It could have been a week, for all she knewâher dreams tended to distort her sense of time. The angle of the sunlight indicated that it was early morning still, which meant the baths would probably be free. Well, technically, hers was always free, because nobody used it but her. Fishing around in her trunk, she retrieved the usual tan monkâs robes she wore and rose to her feet, heading for the hot spring pool designated for her use.
About fifteen minutes and a lot of scrubbing later, she felt clean enough to emerge, dressing herself and squeezing the water out of the ends of her hair. The sun would do the rest well enoughâit was not so long that it took a great deal of work to maintain.
Amaya made breakfast then, helped along by a few of the village women, and they had enough to go around. Ojiisan had been concerned that they might not, but the gods were generous⊠and the monks had planned for this contingency, and stored a lot of rice and other grains for use in emergencies. There would be no elaborate meals, but then, that was normal. They were monks, after all, not lords. Amaya smiled a little to herself at the recollections of the lords sheâd used to know and the one sheâd met since coming here. They hadnât been like lords were supposed to be, either. The smile turned melancholy shortly afterwards, however, as she remembered that all of those people were now gone. Pursing her lips, she sighed, going with the younger monks to deliver breakfast to the rooms.
By chance, she wound up with the trays for the two phoenixes, and so found herself outside their chambers once more, kneeling as was appropriate and knocking gently on the wooden frame of the screen door to the one on the left.
The three days Amaya had been out, Kenji and Sachiko had done their best to make themselves useful. Sachiko helped tend to the ones recovering from the attack, using her vial of tears to help the wounded ones still, and tried her best to comfort those who were in need. Kenji had patrolled the borders during the nights, barely sleeping any at all. He did not wish to be here, however; something in the back of his mind would not allow him to leave. It was none of his business to be in this place. He had his own problems to take care of. Hidenori was one of them, however; perhaps that was what kept him here. His problem had become theirs simply because of the White Tengu. Hidenori was after her, to kill her and remove the seal, or so it seemed.
He couldn't be entirely sure. Perhaps he just wanted the glory of killing the White Tengu, and that it would only act as a bonus for breaking the seal? He couldn't allow himself to be immersed in that, though. He needed to find Masahiro. Once the threat of Hidenori was vanquished, he could move on to the next lead. Whatever threat came after that, was not his concern. If someone knew who she was, she would always be targeted for that, and he could not bring himself to simply care. The only thing he wanted to care about was keeping his sister alive, and exacting his vengeance on the one who took everything from him. His eyes softened as an image of her fluttered across his mind.
His hand reached out, trying to grasp at it, to keep it with him, however; her smile vanished as quickly as it appeared, and his hand fell back beside him. The sound of a knock caught his attention, rolling his head to stare at the wooden frame door. He could see the outline of someone, however; he knew who it was. Sighing gently, he lifted himself from his futon, glancing to the spot where Sachiko slept, but found it empty. She was probably back with the healers or sunbathing. He was going to bet on the latter. When was the last time he allowed himself to bathe in the sun? He shook the thought from his head and opened the door to the chambers, his face pulling into a blank stare.
"If you are looking for Sachiko, she is not here," he simply stated, however; he spotted the tray she was holding and sighed a little harder than he should have. "I have told the monks already, this is unnecessary. We do not need someone bringing us something that can be saved and stored for use elsewhere," he spoke, his voice firm, yet with a hint of restraint. Sachiko and himself could go out to find their own food. Whatever they had should be saved and used for those who could not. He had to keep telling himself it wasn't because he cared. How could he care about a people who did not matter to him?
Amaya smiled slightly, nothing more than the barest upward tilt to her lips, and bowed her head a bit. âThen you are arguing with them on the wrong terms,â she advised gently. âWe do not do only what is necessary. Is it so wrong, to do what is kind, when we can?â Carefully, she moved to set Sachikoâs food down on the low table, so that it would not be disturbed. She was worried the tea might go a bit cold before she got back, and it never tasted quite the same when reheated after that, but she supposed she could try having a fresh pot brought by later. She herself would be unable to do itâthe pitched battle had likely weakened the seal, and she would be soon needed to strengthen it again. That took more out of her than what she had done to the village groundsâshe might be out of commission for as much as a week afterwards.
âWe are not in such dire straits that two more mouths to feed will harm us.â Setting Kenjiâs plate on the table as well, she gracefully poured a cup of tea with the ease of long practice and set the pot back down on the tray. Technically, this much was not needed either, but here she saw the ability to engage in a bit of conversation with him, and that didnât seem like a bad thing to her. She knew she was doing it partly to put off her cleansing and the Ritual of the Seal, but she was also interested to know more about him. She couldn't help itâshe was interested in both of them. Sheâd never thought she would see another living phoenix again in all her life, and here there were two.
She paused for a moment, and folded her hands into her lap. âIf it is more palatable to consider this the fulfillment of a debt, then please do. I owe much to Tomoyori-sama. I had feared there would never be a way to begin reciprocating his kindness to me.â Her smile was tinged with sadness, an old pain, long healed perhaps, but one that had left a scar all the same. One did not lose such precious people without accumulating scars, and she firmly believed the entire world bore one for what had happened to the Phoenix King and his people, even if most people would never recognize it. âIt may be too forward of me to say so, but something in you reminds me of him, a little. I thought so before I knew what you and Sachiko were, actually.â
"Whether it is a kind thing to do is irrelevant to the fact that it should not be done, still," he spoke, his tone calm and flat. He blinked slowly when she poured a cup of tea and set his plate (what he assumed was his plate) on the table. "Two more mouths to feed will not harm you, however; they should not be fed when they are capable of feeding themselves. This food should have not been made for us," he continued, however; he sighed in defeat. He could see that arguing the point would not reach her, and instead, gently picked the plate up and set it down properly. He flinched visibly when she mentioned Tomoyori, and he set his chop sticks down. His eyes darkened considerably, however, and there was a noticeable tightness in his jaw.
"Tomoyori was like that with everyone. And perhaps, he should not have been," he spoke, his tone picking up a little more something in it. He could not fully blame Tomoyori for what happened to the Phoenix, but he could not say it wasn't his fault. Perhaps it was just the nature of the Phoenix, but it was because of that nature that they were all gone now... except him and his sister. "You owe Tomoyori nothing, he would be as kind today as he was then. Perhaps, he is a little more like you than he is of me," he spoke, regarding her through the corners of his eyes. Tomoyori was like his grandfather, and perhaps he might have been, Kenji could not remember such things.
They mattered very little to him now. "Consider your debt paid, otherwise what is left of his soul would not rest in peace," it was hard to tell if he was being considerate or not. The lack of emotion in his voice was making it difficult to tell, and he knew that. Perhaps he was being a little too considerate? He sighed, closing his eyes briefly before reopening them. "Rennoshin says you are refusing to remain enshrined. Tell me, is it something you wished for?" he spoke, diverting the questions to her. He did not like speaking of what happened to his family, and it was a very sore subject for him. But... if she wanted to know, he would consider telling her more.
There was a great amount of raw pain behind his rudeness, and she was now certain of that much. It would seem that he was unable to let go of something about what had happened, unable to forgive it. Not that she expected anything of the sort, exactly. It was in Amayaâs nature to forgive, even such grievous things as those, so that the wounds could close and scar cleanly as possible. But Kenji⊠his wounds were festering, poisoned by something she did not understand. She said nothing for a while, quite conscious of the fact that the topic had been changed because he didnât wish to speak further of what had happened. That much, she could and would respect.
She held few such reservations herself, but there were things that even she could become uneasy speaking about. This, fortunately, was not one of them. âSomething I wished forâŠâ she mused quietly, shaking her head just slightly. âTo me, that is a very strange question.â She didnât seem upset, though, only pensive. âThings that we wish for, things that we desire⊠I have always been taught that these things are to be suppressed. My wishes, as Amaya Reijin⊠these things are not important. I am KĆkenhime to them, and so it is KĆkenhime that I must be for them.â More than just the monks at the shrine thoughâthe Guardian was something the world needed, would always need. Whatever else she might be was naturally secondary to that.
âBut finding the right way to be that person⊠that has not always been simple. I am told that many of my predecessors remained as secluded as possible, to preserve their power and their purity. They kept themselves as far away from sinners as they could, so that their love for the world and their sacrifice was not tainted by that stain. So that they were as much like the gods as beings in this world could be.â In the beginning, she had been the same, remaining veiled, behind a screen, even when meeting the most powerful of dignitaries or the most faithful of the shrineâs devotees. Isolated, alone. And deeply, deeply lonely.
âBut I suppose I thought⊠that to love the world means to love the sinners in it most of all. For is it not those who walk in darkness who most need the blessing of light? Should I not love most of all those people who have not known it, or have forgotten what it really means?â She sighed softly, and glanced up at him. âI suppose that sounds childish to you. Or perhaps hopelessly naĂŻve. But it is what I feel. The courage to act on it was what eluded me, until a very dear friend reminded me that Iâd had it all along.â
"You will learn in time that, finding the way to be the right person isn't always the way you expect. Do not forget, for us to be truly pure, we must learn to sin, and then forgive ourselves for those sins if we can. We cannot have one without the other, no matter how hard you try," he spoke, his voice taking on a calmer edge to it. It was strange, to him, that she had no wish for herself other than what they wished for her to be. Had he still been the same phoenix he was all those years ago, he might have agreed with the monks. He would have agreed that her purpose and duty was to the shrine and the seal, however; he was no longer that person. He could not believe in such things any longer, though that did not mean he would ignore it.
"You must choose what you wish to do for yourself. It is not so bad as to do that once and awhile. I do not believe you would leave your duties intentionally, after all," he continued, taking a long drink of the tea settled before him. "You should do well to remember that you are not a god, or goddess, Reijin-san. You are simply you. We who live on this plane of existence can never be considered as such, even with all the gifts you have been granted. If the gods wanted you to be as them, like them, they would have made you so," he spoke, turning to fully stare at her. He only spoke what he believed, and she did not have to take his words any particular way. It was simply what he thought.
"I do not believe you childish, Reijin-San," he spoke truthfully, because he did not. "But not all the love in the world could save these sinners you speak of. Trust me when I say they have not forgotten how to love, or how to be loved. No one truly forgets that. They have simply put it past them to a point where it can no longer return to hurt them," for he had known that to be truth himself. "It is because love is the biggest sin we could commit. To love is to divide, and it is to bring chaos to those whose hearts are filled with it," and he remained silent after that. For him, that was all love had ever done for him. Though they say it was better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all, Kenji believed the opposite. It was better to have lost than loved for losing something he never loved could never hurt him, nor anyone else, as it did to love.
She got the sense that he was talking about himself more than talking about her, but she didnât mind. She considered everything he was saying another new insight into just who he was, and she was grateful for that. She liked getting to know people for who they really wereâit was one of the rare pleasures in life, she thought. Something that sheâd never have been able to do if she hadnât taken down that wall between herself and everyone else. It was still there sometimes, she knew thatâto do her duty, she could never be just another citizen in the world. She could not travel it as she liked, or pick up a trade, or fall in love and marry and have children. These were things for others to do, and Amaya must do different things.
âNever have I dared think myself a god, Tsukimono-san. Never would I. But I could scarce allow myself to displease them.â Not when she was their messenger. Not when she relied on her ability to beg their assistance to protect people who needed it. If cleansing and ritual pleased the gods as it seemed to, then these were things that she would do. âBut⊠if to love is to sin, then I have sinned. And I have forgiven myself for it. Perhaps I will continue to sin, if things are as you say, but I will do it without regret.â She smiled, then placed her palms against the ground and touched her forehead to it.
âMy thanks, for speaking with me. I am sorry if I have disturbed you. Tomorrow I must perform the Ritual of the Seal, and so I will be gone for perhaps another week afterwards. I suppose that if you leave in the meantime, we may not meet again. May your path be always illuminated. And⊠if you would, please tell Sachiko-san that I am grateful for the way she assisted the healers. The people here mean a great deal to me, and she has done them much good.â Returning to a kneeling position, she rose gracefully from where she was sitting. The Ritual was not the most pleasant of experiences for her, but it was needed, and she was the only one who could do it.
The beginnings of a smile pulled at Kenji's lips, however; he crushed the notion before it could fully bloom and shook his head. "Then perhaps Rennoshin-san did not lie after all," he simply spoke. He tilted his head curiously to one side. "Do not thank me, Reijin-san, and do not apologize. You have not disturbed me, and I will inform Sachiko of your message when she returns. If we are gone by that time, do not waste your prayers on us... keep them on those who truly need you," he stated. He did not need her prayers, nor did he want them. He was damned the moment Masahiro betrayed him. The light would no longer light his way. Darkness would be his home, now, and forever more.
Something danced through her veins where the blood in her body used to lie, something electric and tinged with spice. She could feel the foreign sensation more keenly than anything else she remembered, and just barely catch the edge of some whispered mantra, in a voice she knew perhaps better than her own. It had been the one constant in her life since she had come to be hereâit was his voice.
Shiroâs.
But she could not quite make out the words, and unwillingly, she was dragged from sleep and into wakefulness, cracking her eyelids and sitting up in her futon with a groan. Her head swam for a moment, but eventually, she was able to blink everything into some semblance of clarity. She realized sheâd woken in her own room, which was simply another monkâs cell with little more than a futon and a trunk. She had several pieces of simple art on the walls as well, but other than that, it was basically identical to every other bedchamber in the place.
Pushing several strands of white-blonde hair out of her face, as sheâd apparently come down with a major case of bedhead, she was unsurprised to find that she was still dressed in the white kimono from yesterday⊠or whenever that had been. It could have been a week, for all she knewâher dreams tended to distort her sense of time. The angle of the sunlight indicated that it was early morning still, which meant the baths would probably be free. Well, technically, hers was always free, because nobody used it but her. Fishing around in her trunk, she retrieved the usual tan monkâs robes she wore and rose to her feet, heading for the hot spring pool designated for her use.
About fifteen minutes and a lot of scrubbing later, she felt clean enough to emerge, dressing herself and squeezing the water out of the ends of her hair. The sun would do the rest well enoughâit was not so long that it took a great deal of work to maintain.
Amaya made breakfast then, helped along by a few of the village women, and they had enough to go around. Ojiisan had been concerned that they might not, but the gods were generous⊠and the monks had planned for this contingency, and stored a lot of rice and other grains for use in emergencies. There would be no elaborate meals, but then, that was normal. They were monks, after all, not lords. Amaya smiled a little to herself at the recollections of the lords sheâd used to know and the one sheâd met since coming here. They hadnât been like lords were supposed to be, either. The smile turned melancholy shortly afterwards, however, as she remembered that all of those people were now gone. Pursing her lips, she sighed, going with the younger monks to deliver breakfast to the rooms.
By chance, she wound up with the trays for the two phoenixes, and so found herself outside their chambers once more, kneeling as was appropriate and knocking gently on the wooden frame of the screen door to the one on the left.
The three days Amaya had been out, Kenji and Sachiko had done their best to make themselves useful. Sachiko helped tend to the ones recovering from the attack, using her vial of tears to help the wounded ones still, and tried her best to comfort those who were in need. Kenji had patrolled the borders during the nights, barely sleeping any at all. He did not wish to be here, however; something in the back of his mind would not allow him to leave. It was none of his business to be in this place. He had his own problems to take care of. Hidenori was one of them, however; perhaps that was what kept him here. His problem had become theirs simply because of the White Tengu. Hidenori was after her, to kill her and remove the seal, or so it seemed.
He couldn't be entirely sure. Perhaps he just wanted the glory of killing the White Tengu, and that it would only act as a bonus for breaking the seal? He couldn't allow himself to be immersed in that, though. He needed to find Masahiro. Once the threat of Hidenori was vanquished, he could move on to the next lead. Whatever threat came after that, was not his concern. If someone knew who she was, she would always be targeted for that, and he could not bring himself to simply care. The only thing he wanted to care about was keeping his sister alive, and exacting his vengeance on the one who took everything from him. His eyes softened as an image of her fluttered across his mind.
His hand reached out, trying to grasp at it, to keep it with him, however; her smile vanished as quickly as it appeared, and his hand fell back beside him. The sound of a knock caught his attention, rolling his head to stare at the wooden frame door. He could see the outline of someone, however; he knew who it was. Sighing gently, he lifted himself from his futon, glancing to the spot where Sachiko slept, but found it empty. She was probably back with the healers or sunbathing. He was going to bet on the latter. When was the last time he allowed himself to bathe in the sun? He shook the thought from his head and opened the door to the chambers, his face pulling into a blank stare.
"If you are looking for Sachiko, she is not here," he simply stated, however; he spotted the tray she was holding and sighed a little harder than he should have. "I have told the monks already, this is unnecessary. We do not need someone bringing us something that can be saved and stored for use elsewhere," he spoke, his voice firm, yet with a hint of restraint. Sachiko and himself could go out to find their own food. Whatever they had should be saved and used for those who could not. He had to keep telling himself it wasn't because he cared. How could he care about a people who did not matter to him?
Amaya smiled slightly, nothing more than the barest upward tilt to her lips, and bowed her head a bit. âThen you are arguing with them on the wrong terms,â she advised gently. âWe do not do only what is necessary. Is it so wrong, to do what is kind, when we can?â Carefully, she moved to set Sachikoâs food down on the low table, so that it would not be disturbed. She was worried the tea might go a bit cold before she got back, and it never tasted quite the same when reheated after that, but she supposed she could try having a fresh pot brought by later. She herself would be unable to do itâthe pitched battle had likely weakened the seal, and she would be soon needed to strengthen it again. That took more out of her than what she had done to the village groundsâshe might be out of commission for as much as a week afterwards.
âWe are not in such dire straits that two more mouths to feed will harm us.â Setting Kenjiâs plate on the table as well, she gracefully poured a cup of tea with the ease of long practice and set the pot back down on the tray. Technically, this much was not needed either, but here she saw the ability to engage in a bit of conversation with him, and that didnât seem like a bad thing to her. She knew she was doing it partly to put off her cleansing and the Ritual of the Seal, but she was also interested to know more about him. She couldn't help itâshe was interested in both of them. Sheâd never thought she would see another living phoenix again in all her life, and here there were two.
She paused for a moment, and folded her hands into her lap. âIf it is more palatable to consider this the fulfillment of a debt, then please do. I owe much to Tomoyori-sama. I had feared there would never be a way to begin reciprocating his kindness to me.â Her smile was tinged with sadness, an old pain, long healed perhaps, but one that had left a scar all the same. One did not lose such precious people without accumulating scars, and she firmly believed the entire world bore one for what had happened to the Phoenix King and his people, even if most people would never recognize it. âIt may be too forward of me to say so, but something in you reminds me of him, a little. I thought so before I knew what you and Sachiko were, actually.â
"Whether it is a kind thing to do is irrelevant to the fact that it should not be done, still," he spoke, his tone calm and flat. He blinked slowly when she poured a cup of tea and set his plate (what he assumed was his plate) on the table. "Two more mouths to feed will not harm you, however; they should not be fed when they are capable of feeding themselves. This food should have not been made for us," he continued, however; he sighed in defeat. He could see that arguing the point would not reach her, and instead, gently picked the plate up and set it down properly. He flinched visibly when she mentioned Tomoyori, and he set his chop sticks down. His eyes darkened considerably, however, and there was a noticeable tightness in his jaw.
"Tomoyori was like that with everyone. And perhaps, he should not have been," he spoke, his tone picking up a little more something in it. He could not fully blame Tomoyori for what happened to the Phoenix, but he could not say it wasn't his fault. Perhaps it was just the nature of the Phoenix, but it was because of that nature that they were all gone now... except him and his sister. "You owe Tomoyori nothing, he would be as kind today as he was then. Perhaps, he is a little more like you than he is of me," he spoke, regarding her through the corners of his eyes. Tomoyori was like his grandfather, and perhaps he might have been, Kenji could not remember such things.
They mattered very little to him now. "Consider your debt paid, otherwise what is left of his soul would not rest in peace," it was hard to tell if he was being considerate or not. The lack of emotion in his voice was making it difficult to tell, and he knew that. Perhaps he was being a little too considerate? He sighed, closing his eyes briefly before reopening them. "Rennoshin says you are refusing to remain enshrined. Tell me, is it something you wished for?" he spoke, diverting the questions to her. He did not like speaking of what happened to his family, and it was a very sore subject for him. But... if she wanted to know, he would consider telling her more.
There was a great amount of raw pain behind his rudeness, and she was now certain of that much. It would seem that he was unable to let go of something about what had happened, unable to forgive it. Not that she expected anything of the sort, exactly. It was in Amayaâs nature to forgive, even such grievous things as those, so that the wounds could close and scar cleanly as possible. But Kenji⊠his wounds were festering, poisoned by something she did not understand. She said nothing for a while, quite conscious of the fact that the topic had been changed because he didnât wish to speak further of what had happened. That much, she could and would respect.
She held few such reservations herself, but there were things that even she could become uneasy speaking about. This, fortunately, was not one of them. âSomething I wished forâŠâ she mused quietly, shaking her head just slightly. âTo me, that is a very strange question.â She didnât seem upset, though, only pensive. âThings that we wish for, things that we desire⊠I have always been taught that these things are to be suppressed. My wishes, as Amaya Reijin⊠these things are not important. I am KĆkenhime to them, and so it is KĆkenhime that I must be for them.â More than just the monks at the shrine thoughâthe Guardian was something the world needed, would always need. Whatever else she might be was naturally secondary to that.
âBut finding the right way to be that person⊠that has not always been simple. I am told that many of my predecessors remained as secluded as possible, to preserve their power and their purity. They kept themselves as far away from sinners as they could, so that their love for the world and their sacrifice was not tainted by that stain. So that they were as much like the gods as beings in this world could be.â In the beginning, she had been the same, remaining veiled, behind a screen, even when meeting the most powerful of dignitaries or the most faithful of the shrineâs devotees. Isolated, alone. And deeply, deeply lonely.
âBut I suppose I thought⊠that to love the world means to love the sinners in it most of all. For is it not those who walk in darkness who most need the blessing of light? Should I not love most of all those people who have not known it, or have forgotten what it really means?â She sighed softly, and glanced up at him. âI suppose that sounds childish to you. Or perhaps hopelessly naĂŻve. But it is what I feel. The courage to act on it was what eluded me, until a very dear friend reminded me that Iâd had it all along.â
"You will learn in time that, finding the way to be the right person isn't always the way you expect. Do not forget, for us to be truly pure, we must learn to sin, and then forgive ourselves for those sins if we can. We cannot have one without the other, no matter how hard you try," he spoke, his voice taking on a calmer edge to it. It was strange, to him, that she had no wish for herself other than what they wished for her to be. Had he still been the same phoenix he was all those years ago, he might have agreed with the monks. He would have agreed that her purpose and duty was to the shrine and the seal, however; he was no longer that person. He could not believe in such things any longer, though that did not mean he would ignore it.
"You must choose what you wish to do for yourself. It is not so bad as to do that once and awhile. I do not believe you would leave your duties intentionally, after all," he continued, taking a long drink of the tea settled before him. "You should do well to remember that you are not a god, or goddess, Reijin-san. You are simply you. We who live on this plane of existence can never be considered as such, even with all the gifts you have been granted. If the gods wanted you to be as them, like them, they would have made you so," he spoke, turning to fully stare at her. He only spoke what he believed, and she did not have to take his words any particular way. It was simply what he thought.
"I do not believe you childish, Reijin-San," he spoke truthfully, because he did not. "But not all the love in the world could save these sinners you speak of. Trust me when I say they have not forgotten how to love, or how to be loved. No one truly forgets that. They have simply put it past them to a point where it can no longer return to hurt them," for he had known that to be truth himself. "It is because love is the biggest sin we could commit. To love is to divide, and it is to bring chaos to those whose hearts are filled with it," and he remained silent after that. For him, that was all love had ever done for him. Though they say it was better to have loved and lost, than to have never loved at all, Kenji believed the opposite. It was better to have lost than loved for losing something he never loved could never hurt him, nor anyone else, as it did to love.
She got the sense that he was talking about himself more than talking about her, but she didnât mind. She considered everything he was saying another new insight into just who he was, and she was grateful for that. She liked getting to know people for who they really wereâit was one of the rare pleasures in life, she thought. Something that sheâd never have been able to do if she hadnât taken down that wall between herself and everyone else. It was still there sometimes, she knew thatâto do her duty, she could never be just another citizen in the world. She could not travel it as she liked, or pick up a trade, or fall in love and marry and have children. These were things for others to do, and Amaya must do different things.
âNever have I dared think myself a god, Tsukimono-san. Never would I. But I could scarce allow myself to displease them.â Not when she was their messenger. Not when she relied on her ability to beg their assistance to protect people who needed it. If cleansing and ritual pleased the gods as it seemed to, then these were things that she would do. âBut⊠if to love is to sin, then I have sinned. And I have forgiven myself for it. Perhaps I will continue to sin, if things are as you say, but I will do it without regret.â She smiled, then placed her palms against the ground and touched her forehead to it.
âMy thanks, for speaking with me. I am sorry if I have disturbed you. Tomorrow I must perform the Ritual of the Seal, and so I will be gone for perhaps another week afterwards. I suppose that if you leave in the meantime, we may not meet again. May your path be always illuminated. And⊠if you would, please tell Sachiko-san that I am grateful for the way she assisted the healers. The people here mean a great deal to me, and she has done them much good.â Returning to a kneeling position, she rose gracefully from where she was sitting. The Ritual was not the most pleasant of experiences for her, but it was needed, and she was the only one who could do it.
The beginnings of a smile pulled at Kenji's lips, however; he crushed the notion before it could fully bloom and shook his head. "Then perhaps Rennoshin-san did not lie after all," he simply spoke. He tilted his head curiously to one side. "Do not thank me, Reijin-san, and do not apologize. You have not disturbed me, and I will inform Sachiko of your message when she returns. If we are gone by that time, do not waste your prayers on us... keep them on those who truly need you," he stated. He did not need her prayers, nor did he want them. He was damned the moment Masahiro betrayed him. The light would no longer light his way. Darkness would be his home, now, and forever more.