72Authors Forward:
This update has been a long time in coming. When I started this story back in 2008, I was dealing with some personal issues that I didn't know how to combat. Now, ten years later, I find myself coming back to this story with a new eye and attitude. I've grown, matured, and changed as a person. It's my hope that, with the support of the community and those truly close to me, this story will reach its ultimate completion. I know a lot of you have been waiting to see if this would ever get updated, or if this had died.
Without being too long winded, it has been a long, rough road to get here. Now that I look back at this story, I feel that now I can truly express what I had intended to write so long ago. Back then, I could only write an emotion that I was experiencing. That approach…wasn't good on my mental health. I've learned how to manage it now, hence my return. I plan to review the story, and with a more critical eye on details, edit it to be better. Story won't change, but it'll be more consistent. With that being said, I will endeavor to be more consistent with updating this until it's conclusion. You needn't fear me dropping off for another decade. My muse has returned, and I know how to channel her correctly.
So, before I wax philosophical for too long, I will thank you all for your patience and support. Now, without further ado, I present Chapter Five of Picking up the Pieces.
The light filtering in woke her well before she wanted to be. Blinking, she slowly opened her eyes to the unfamiliar surroundings. The old-style room came into focus as her memories of yesterday began to filter through her consciousness. It was becoming a normal thing for her, having her mind be sharper in the mornings. Though she was feeling the effects of withdrawal from the lack of alcohol begin to take effect. It was rare enough for her to wake up sober, let alone without the customary headache or buzz from it. Whether or not this was a good thing, she wasn't yet sure.
As she gently swung herself out of bed, her thoughts drifted to her traveling companion. The empty looks and zoning out, while not new, were very worrisome to her. While no expert on depression, she was certain he was suffering heavily. She had to guess that his thoughts were very dark. Hopefully, just being there would be enough to counter act any of the darker thoughts he could have running through his head. At that thought, worry and an unnamed fear coursed through her. Without much thought, she bolted to her feet and to the door. Though she did quietly open it, her feet slapping hurriedly along the floor were most likely loud enough to wake a loud sleeper. Despite not wanting to upset their host any, her worry for Keitaro overrode that sensibility. She only prayed that he was just sleeping, and not having maintained his schedule of waking early.
Slowing at his door, she forced her hands to stop shaking as she gripped the door knob. She opened it with a gentle twist and peered inside. The hope of him being asleep was quickly dashed the moment she looked in. Though the room was quiet and dark, she could still barely make out his figure sitting up on the bed. He was slumped over and hadn't acknowledged her by looking at her, but she could tell he was awake. The sound of his heavy breathing was enough for her. For a moment she wondered if he'd heard her come in. When he shifted and looked at her, she felt that hope dissipate. Though she could barely make it out, he gave a strained smile to her, "Morning, Mitsune."
Keeping her face passive despite the relief flooding her, she stepped inside. She gave him what she hoped was a convincing smile back, "Morning, Sunshine. I didn't wake you, did I?"
She saw the almost lifeless shrug wrinkle his form. It was one she was already coming to hate seeing him do. She barely heard his whispered words following it, "I guess."
The tone of his voice felt strained and tired, like he'd been desperately fighting to keep from wailing through the night. She felt her heart ache at it but managed to keep it from her face. She watched as he turned his head away, likely in shame or sadness at his perceived weakness. Carefully, she moved in to sit gently on the edge of the bed. Her footsteps almost echoing in the stillness of the room. The bed creaked lightly under her as she moved to reach a hand out to brush a stray lock of his hair back. Even in the dark, though, she noticed him flinch slightly at the gesture. Though it hurt her to see it, she kept it bottled inside. It wouldn't do any good for him to see how much his current state was hurting her. She smiled reassuringly at him, "Shh. It's alright, Hon. I'm not gonna hurt ya."
His eyes tracked her movements as she slowly touched her hand to his hair. With slow, fluid movements, she brushed his sleep mussed hair back. She could see his shoulders tense, but after some time, they relaxed as she stroked his hair. It was just as much for him, as it was for herself. After the fear that had raced through her a few moments ago, she needed to feel him alive and breathing. So much so, that it had nearly overridden her. That fear was quelled by the soothing motion of her hand. After some time, she eased back form him, "When'd you wake up?"
She waited patiently, knowing he'd answer in time. After having known him for well over a year now, she was able to, with some certainty, predict his behavior. Though he'd eased somewhat from her touch, his eyes never lifted from the floor to meet hers. She watched as that damnable shrug creased his frame again, "Not sure. After dawn I think?"
As much as she hated the shrug, she hated the lie just as much. She could tell that he hadn't had much sleep, just from the almost dead motions and the bleary looking eyes. It didn't do anything but cause her to frown slightly. Slowly, she reached her hand out to rest lightly on his chin, ignoring the tensing of his shoulders. She gently pulled his gaze up to meet hers, though his eyes stubbornly refused to meet them. With a light brush of her thumb, she held in her sigh, "Keitaro. Look at me."
As if under some powerful compulsion, his eyes slowly traveled to meet hers. The look of emptiness and melancholy lingering in his eyes made her insides shiver in pain. Ever an expert of her own emotions, she kept her mask firmly in place. She forced her own tears down ruthlessly as she held his gaze, "You're a terrible liar, Hon."
She watched him fight with himself before sighing in resignation. He just couldn't bring himself to lie to her now, not when faced with those brown orbs of hers again. Even when he knew that she was scamming him in the past, he couldn't say no to her. Knowing he was beaten, he looked away slightly, "I didn't get much. An hour. Maybe two."
She stroked his face lightly before letting go. She wondered if he'd slept much the last few days. Now she had some confirmation, as much as it hurt to get it. Mitsune squashed her own feelings as she spoke, "Keitaro, you need to get some sleep. Last thing you need is to get sick again from exhaustion."
A cold, humorless chuckle escaped his lips as he continued to look away. The sound sent shivers down her spine and fear racing through her heart. She watched as he seemed to close in on himself, as though he were drawing a protective shell around him. His voice had a pained tone to it when he spoke, "I wish I could. It'd be better than living through this right now."
Mitsune cringed inwardly, concealing the worry and fear behind her mask. She could see him breaking, the pain beginning to overtake him. It hurt to see someone that she knew was a good man end up like he had. Without thinking, she pulled him into a fierce embrace. Keitaro struggled only a moment, before going limp in her arms. She felt his body shudder as he began crying, "I…I don't want…to…I don't think…I can keep going!"
The words nearly broke her mask, as she clutched Keitaro to her. Her hands gently soothed him as she fought to stay strong. He needed her to be his rock, now more than ever. After all the pain she had caused him, and all the hurt he'd suffered, he needed someone to be there for him. To hold him and let him cling to them. Though she herself did not feel all that strong, she was determined to be his rock. She held him as he sobbed, "Shh, Hon. Everything will be alright."
"How?!" He yelled, wrenching himself back from her arms. Like all the other residents back home, she had underestimated his strength. Years of hard work around the Inn had given him muscle that his normally baggy clothing concealed. A fact Mitsune was beginning to understand. She waited, watching as the look in his eyes became desperate and wild. He searched her face, looking for anything he could to validate his anguish. To her credit, she held strong and kept his gaze as he gripped her arms tightly, "How will it be alright?"
Unable to move from his iron grip, she offered him the smallest of smiles. It was all she could do for him at this moment as she rubbed his arms where she could reach, "I don't know, Hon. But it will be."
She watched as he held her, his eyes boring into her own. The corners of his eyes streamed tears down his face, "Then…how…"
"Shh," she soothed him, gently pulling him close so their fore heads could touch. He didn't resist, though he remained tense. Her vision became filled with his dark brown eyes. Those same pain filled eyes she'd seen every day for the last week. Mitsune hoped that she was showing him reassurance and not her own grief for him, "It will be, Hon. I promise."
It was a long time before he eased slightly. With little prompting, he collapsed against her, his head resting against her chest. She gently cradled him as she stroked his head. His sporadic sobs and shuddering breaths the only sounds in the room. Mitsune's heart ached for him, but she kept her feelings under control. She could vent her emotions later. Right now, Keitaro needed her to be strong and she would do her best to be there for him. As his crises subsided, he gently moved backwards, "I'm sorry, Mitsune."
She stroked his hand, interrupting whatever else he was going to say, "Nothing to be sorry about."
His eyes searched hers, before nodding lightly. She could see the exhaustion in him was beginning to take over. Rubbing his shoulder, she smiled at him, "Do you think you can sleep?"
For a moment, it seemed like he would, but the light shakes of his head answered her. He moved back to where she'd found him, almost limp as he did so, "I don't really think so. Too many…nightmares."
Mitsune could relate to that, but he really needed sleep. Though how she was going to convince him of that in his current state, she wasn't sure. She thought about how to go about it, when an idea came to her. The box Nobu had given her. He'd said it would help her get to sleep, but to not over do it. If she could brew some, then he might be able to get some rest. But to do that, she'd have to make sure Keitaro was okay for her to leave for a few minutes. Rubbing his arm more, she spoke soothingly to him, "Hon, would it help if you had some tea? A friend of Harukas' gave me a special blend to try."
Listlessly, he nodded once after some thought before Mitsune stood to leave. She watched as she made her way to leave. If only to reassure herself he'd be alright in her absence. Crossing the room as silently as she had entered, she stopped to make sure he was okay. She stood holding the door knob, ready to cross back to him if need be, "I'll be right back. Okay, Hon?"
If he answered her verbally, she didn't hear it. He did nod barely in the dim lighting before she opened the door. Exiting the room and moving down the hall, she tried to be quieter this time around. Her mind was frazzled from all the worry over Keitaro. As she entered her room, she paused to brace herself against the door. Her eyes pricked with tears as she fought to keep from crying out. All that pain that he practically radiated tore her up inside. She covered her mouth to help stifle any cries she couldn't contain. The sheer emptiness in his eyes was almost too much for her to bear. Just how was she supposed to be able to help him through it?
Her eyes drifted to the shaded window. The sun was just beginning to stream into the room. Outside, she could begin to faintly hear birds begin to sing their morning songs. It would be serene if not for the heavy weight of sadness on her heart. Her tears flowed freely as she tried to get a grip on herself. She had promised herself and him, that she would do everything she could to help him. But how? That cold, empty look in his eyes and the way he spoke had her wondering just how much she had to do for him. She swiped at her tears, trying to find the strength within herself. She needed to be his rock. At least until he could stand on his own again. She just prayed there was something left of herself at the end to see him smile again. She choked back another sob, remembering her task, "Tea…I have to get that tea."
Moving to her bag, she pulled it open and began to search through it. It was a last-minute addition to her packing, and one she was sure Haruka had seen her place inside. Whatever she had thought, she never said. Ultimately, she had hoped that only she would need it. To help her deal with not only the effects of withdrawal from her voluntary sobriety, but the nightmares she knew she was going to have. Now, she knew that it was going to probably be just another tool in her arsenal to help Keitaro. If even a little sleep could help, then it was a step in the right direction. Right?
Her fingers finally closed around the old box after a minute of searching. She brought it to her chest, taking whatever comfort the old box could bring. She gave a silent prayer for having it and stood to leave. As quietly as she had entered, she left the room and began heading for the stairwell. Mitsune was at least thankful that the floor was carpeted, unlike back at the Inn. The Inn. Her thoughts idly turned towards those still left behind at the Hinata. With Haruka on hand to run things, and Shinobu to help with the everyday chores, it was at least going to function. She knew that hers and Keitaro's rooms would be closed and locked to prevent anyone from going through them in their absence. She worried about the younger residents and spared some thought to the older ones as well. As much as she had hated what had been done to Keitaro, Mitsune still cared for them. Hopefully, this would be the wake up call they all needed. At the very least she had seen hope in Motoko's attitude. Her rather formal apology, though not accepted, had at least been a start for her.
As she exited the room, her eyes briefly lingered on Keitaro's door. The depths of his anguish had shocked her, as much as when she had discovered him in the rain a week ago. The utter soul crushing despair radiated from him in such intensity, that she wasn't sure she would even be able to do anything to help. The fact that he was at least allowing her to be a refuge from his pain was, to her at least, a sign that he would eventually recover. She held in her sigh, making sure to keep any sound she would make from reaching his ears. With as much stealth as she could muster, she slipped her way down the stairs towards the main hall. The short tour of the house was barely memorable to her, but she'd remembered where the kitchen was. Her feet carried her quickly down to the ground floor and towards her destination. For now, she had a purpose.
As she rounded the corner, she nearly screamed in surprise. Nick, haggard and bleary eyed, looked back from his chair at the small table. Dressed in a pair of shorts, light tee shirt and a house robe, he resembled a zombie. His hair was sticking out at odd angles, not even restrained by any kind of tie. Stubble shown clearly on his face, and a mug of what she guessed was coffee hovered half way to his mouth. For a long moment, they looked between one another. Mitsune felt her heart hammering in her chest as her hand rested there. The moment seemed to stretch out forever before he tipped his mug towards her in greeting, "Coffee?"
Mitsune let out the breath she'd unknowingly been holding. She leaned against the door frame, sure her nerves were completely shot from this rollercoaster of a morning. She sent a look of relief and exasperation to her host, "Holy shit, Nick! You scared the hell out of me!"
To his credit, Nick grimaced as he raised his mug to take a sip," Sorry 'bout that."
As she calmed herself, she remembered her original purpose for coming down here. She began scanning the layout of the kitchen, trying to discern where a tea kettle, if any were available, could be stored. The number of cabinets and the way it was laid out had her thinking for a moment she'd have to start searching each one. As she prepared to do so, Nick cleared his throat, "Cabinet above the sink, top shelf."
The non-sequitur caused her to pause and give him a quizzical look. If she didn't know any better, she'd have thought the man was psychic. How did he know what she was after? Slowly, she moved to the indicated cabinet and opened it. There, on the top shelf, was possibly the most worn looking kettle she'd ever seen. She turned to look back at him, "How…?"
All he did in response was to take a drink and motion towards the box in her other hand, "I recognized the box."
She turned her eyes back to the box in her hands. Mentally she smacked herself. Nobu and Nick had traveled for a long time together. It was only natural for him to recognize it and likely knew its contents. Giving a sheepish look his way, Mitsune pulled the old kettle down and filled it with water. For his part, Nick remained quiet, content to sip at his mug of coffee. Whether he did this out of respect or due to the coffee not having fully woken him, she wasn't sure. She turned the stove on and placed the kettle to boil. While she waited, she took in her surroundings and her unlikely host. While not spotless, the kitchen was at least neat. Everything had a place and was placed there as it should be. Though, with a stab of pain at the thought, she knew Shinobu would have a field day making this place sparkle. A folded, if gaudy and extremely feminine apron rested across a counter top, as if thrown there and left from its last use.
The gentle sipping of coffee pulled her attention to Nick. She took in his form, wondering who he might be. Haruka had trusted him enough to put Keitaro and her in his care, so obviously he was a decent guy. At least she hoped so. So far, he had been rather good natured, if a bit odd to her. But who was he? What did he do for a living? Did he live alone here, or was there someone special in his life? She had so many questions, and very few answers. She felt that familiar part of her, her curious side, stir a bit at the new mystery that he presented to her.
"You know it's rude to stare?"
She blushed in embarrassment at being caught watching him. Mitsune was normally more discreet when observing someone. Bowing her head sheepishly, she looked away at his comment, "Sorry. Old habits."
The man grunted an acknowledgment as he drained the last of his coffee. Standing for the first time since she entered the kitchen, he shuffled over to the sink and deposited his mug there. Without much thought to his guest, he moved past her slowly to the hallway. He paused at the door as he looked at her over his shoulder, "Just remember, only one teaspoon."
With those words, he disappeared around the corner. Mitsune looked at where he had last stood and thought once more that the man was a little odd. Then again, Keitaro and herself were probably odd to him as well. She allowed herself to drift in her thoughts as she waited for the kettle. The days ahead, if they were like todays was already turning out, would be very difficult. She knew old habits of hers would have to be broken, of that she was certain. That curiosity streak and her inclination for mischief would be the first things she would have to work on. However, before she did anything for herself, Keitaro's well-being took priority. He'd given so much of himself over the time she'd known him. If she couldn't give him the same kind of selfless help, then she might as well just go home.
The kettle whistling broke her from her thoughts. She lifted it from its place and, remembering Nick's words, gently opened the box. Using only the amount she'd been told, she finished mixing the tea into a cup she managed to find. She set the kettle to one side and made to return to Keitaro's room. Idly, she could faintly hear music from somewhere down the hall. Vaguely, she remembered that was where Nick's room likely was. She ignored it for now and returned up the stairs.
Gently, she opened the door to Keitaro's room. He was still sitting on his bed, right where Mitsune had left him. She pushed the door closed behind her and crossed the still dark room. Easing herself back on to the bed, she held out the cup for him, "Here, Sugar. Nice and hot."
He reached out and took the offered cup. As he did, Mitsune felt his hands brush hers as they closed around it. Though the air was beginning to warm, he still felt cold. She watched as he slowly lifted it to his lips and took a sip of the tea. He looked back up at her, "It's…different."
She smiled at him, trying to push as much reassurance towards him as she could, "I know, Hon, but it should do the trick."
They lapsed into silence as Keitaro slowly drank the cup of tea. She watched him, trying to pick up any traces of his thoughts through his body language. He never protested to her watching him. In the time she had known him, he tended to keep his own thoughts quiet. He had been cheerful at times, but she knew that he likely kept his own private thoughts to himself. As he finished the tea, he handed Mitsune the cup back, "Thanks, Mitsune."
Taking the cup, she reached out and slowly rubbed his arm, "You're welcome, Hon."
She watched, knowing that if it worked at all like she'd been told, he'd likely start getting sleepy soon. Soon, his eyelids began to droop as his head began to bob. Gently, she reached out and nudged him to lay down, "Come on sleepyhead. Time to get you to bed."
Mitsune had expected him to resist her but was surprised when he willingly let himself be moved. She could see him watching her through his heavy lids. Pulling the covers of the bed over him, Mitsune brushed his hair, "Get some sleep, Sugar."
His sluggish nod was enough for her, as she stood to leave. A hand reached out and grabbed hers, stopping her from leaving. She looked back to him, seeing a look of desperation in his eyes, "Please. Stay?"
Not trusting her voice at the look in his eyes, she nodded. She returned to her seat on the edge of his bed and began to lightly run her hand through his hair. Within minutes, he had drifted off to sleep. Mitsune let out a small sigh. At least now he could get some rest. She would make sure of it.
The setting sun cast a golden glow on the old Inn, making its already majestic form take on an otherworldly air. Since the resident manager had gone, however, the normally boisterous house had fallen almost completely silent. Yet, while it was very much silent, it was not at all peaceful. A fact that Motoko Aoyama knew very well.
Sitting in a meditative state, she had thought of her transgressions and had accepted them as hers and no one else's. In the past, she had believed that all her attacks, all her actions against Keitaro had been his fault. Now, having faced the specter of her own guilt for her part of driving the landlord away, she knew she must atone for her sins. It was with that notion that she had mailed her sister back home, admitting to her weakness and rash actions. That had been only a few days ago, and now she sat in contemplation awaiting her just punishment.
The barest flicker of an aura told her what she had waited for. Turning and bowing as deeply and as lowly as she could, she spoke, "Greetings, Sister."
Tsuruko looked at her sisters' prone form, carefully preparing her words. She had only received the letter the day before, and its contents told a horrible tale. Setting her beautiful face in the slightest of frowns, she regarded her prostrate sister, "You are exceedingly fortunate to still be able to call me that, Motoko-chan, given the manner in which I have come."
Sitting up slowly and keeping her eyes lowered, Motoko continued, "I understand. My actions have been a severe disgrace to our family, to our heritage, to my own sword, and least of all to me."
Keeping a wary eye on Motoko, Tsuruko noticed the lack of her sword, "And where is your sword, Motoko-chan?"
Bowing again, Motoko forced back a sob, "I have placed it in its place of honor and vowed never to touch it until I have redeemed myself. My hands are too tainted to hold it."
Tsuruko was a little shocked at Motoko's statement, but did not show it. She waited silently for her sister to continue, but her next words utterly stripped the mask of indifference from Tsuruko's face.
Motoko spoke, her speech broken by sobs, "I…I don't…deserve…to live! Please…sister…let me take my shame…and let it be…buried with me!"
Tsuruko stood looking at Motoko, the utter pain and shame of her actions radiating from her in waves. She felt her heart break at the sight of her sister, bowed in supplication asking to end her own life than rather live with the shame. To the seasoned demon slayer, this sight scared her more than anything else she had faced in her life. Kneeling cautiously in front of her sister, she gently placed a hand under her chin. Motoko did not resist her actions, keeping her tear-filled eyes from looking Tsuruko in the hers. She sat, waiting for her sister to say something, anything to her. Over her own sobs, she heard a sound so foreign, so alien to her, she was unsure she had heard it. Slowly, she looked at her sister, and saw a sight she had never thought existed.
Her sister, Tsuruko, the most powerful demon slayer of the last few generations in her family, was crying.
Worry and fear crept into her voice, "Sister?"
Tsuruko reached out and pulled Motoko into a desperate embrace, "Dear Motoko, why? Why ask me to allow you to commit such a devastating act?"
Unused to such actions from her sister, Motoko remained still, "It…it is the…proper thing…"
"No, Motoko," Tsuruko said, gently stroking her sister's hair, "The proper thing is not always the right thing to do."
Now in complete shock at her words, Motoko pulled back to look at her, "The right thing is not always the proper way? This does not make sense! I have always been taught that…"
A sad smile graced Tsuruko's face as she silenced Motoko, "Motoko, you have done the right thing already by sending your letter. I am sad that it took such actions for you to see your ways, but what has happened cannot be undone, only moved beyond. You have grown up believing honor and duty are everything and anything beyond that is not worthy of your time. Bushido is a way of life, but it is also a path of doing what is right for everyone."
Tsuruko took her sisters hands in her own, locking her tear-soaked eyes with Motoko's, "What would killing yourself accomplish? Restoring your honor and dignity? It would only accomplish causing more pain to your family and friends! I could not bear to lose my only sister, let alone condemn her to that path!"
Motoko, seeing her sister breaking into tears, felt her own streaming down her face. She began to sob, realizing the gravity and pain her decision would have caused. Clutching at Tsuruko's waist in a tight embrace, she fell against her sister, "I'm sorry! So sorry!"
The two sat there, holding each other, sharing their tears. As the sun was setting, they calmed enough to separate. Tsuruko, wiping the tears from Motoko's face, looked at the setting sun, "I am glad you have reconsidered, Motoko-chan."
Motoko looked at the sunset, pain still lingering in her eyes, "Sister, I…"
She watched as Tsuruko looked back at her, a sad expression on her face, "Mother has asked for you to return home. She wants to speak with you as soon as possible."
Motoko stopped, having had the words stolen from her mouth, and nodded lightly. Turning towards the sunset again, she breathed deeply, "When shall we leave?"
Her sister gently rubbed her back, "We'll leave tomorrow morning. It would be best to pack lightly."
Nodding, Motoko turned and slowly began to make her way to the room she had called home for the last few years. As she moved through the halls, old memories came to her. They reminded her of the good times she had, but most were those she would rather forget. Her door loomed ahead of her sooner than she had thought, her name emblazoned on the plaque above it. Sliding the door to the side reverently, she took in her home that she had come to know. The suit of armor to one side, a reminder of her heritage, stood proudly. Near it was her writing desk, the small endeavor she had undertaken when she had discovered her love of writing. Small decorations, the incense burner, and other small items showed a Spartan existence, one she had been content to live with until recently. Taking barely noticeable steps, she approached her closet. Sliding it open, she began to see the trend of her clothes, moving from her traditional Gi and Hakama to her more modern and more feminine clothing. In the corner under all of that was her duffel bag, something she took with her on training expeditions into the woods. Pulling it out and gently beginning to place items inside, Motoko wondered just what was to happen at her ancestral home in Kyoto.
"So, you're leaving, too?"
Turning on the voice, cursing her inattentiveness, she found the form of Shinobu standing framed in the door way. Their last meeting still etched in her mind, she turned back to her closet to continue packing. The blue haired girl, shuffling from foot to foot, looked at the floor at her feet, "Motoko, I…well…"
"Shinobu," Motoko began, keeping her back to the bluenette. She knew what she was going to do. Her heart was more forgiving than her own, and right now she was undeserving of any apologies. Her attempt with Keitaro still at the fore front of her mind. Motoko forced her hands and voice to stay steady, "You needn't apologize. You spoke the truth and stood up for someone that I have been ruthlessly abusing. That's not something you should ever apologize for."
Though Motoko could not see the younger girl, she heard her stop moving at the door. She could almost see the sad look on her face. She had seen it many times over the last few years. Almost every one of those had been when she had harmed Keitaro, either through inaction or directly attacking him. It was a look she knew she could not bear, not now knowing the shameful acts she has committed. Shinobu's voice drifted to her from where she stood, "But you're still leaving?"
Her hands paused at their task. Motoko could feel the fire in Shinobu's voice, "After all that you've done, you're just going to leave? Like nothing happened? How does that fix anything, Motoko! How does that repair the damage that you have done? How does that help Keitaro?"
Motoko had heard the unspoken condemnation in Shinobu's voice. There was much she could do here to help, that much was true. However, for her own part in destroying the tranquility of this place, she had to atone. All her staying would do would drive a further divide in the peace of the house, because she knew that if she stayed, Shinobu would likely be a constant reminder to herself at what she'd done. She couldn't bear to see the veiled contempt and scorn in the younger girls' eyes. If Shinobu was ever going to forgive her, she would have to leave. Only time away would help heal the damage she caused. Not just with Keitaro, but with Shinobu as well. Motoko looked at her hands, not wanting to face Shinobu, "It is better this way, Shinobu."
"How?" Shinobu cried out at Motoko's back, "How is this better?"
As if her cry had broken a spell on her, Motoko half turned to face her, "Because I cannot bear to see how much I have hurt you!"
The fire in Shinobu was quelled by Motoko's words. She no longer felt the white-hot anger at the older resident. Instead she stood, dumbstruck by her rebuke. Tears slowly trickled down Motoko's face as she averted her eyes from the girl, "I cannot repair anything, not as things are now. I have made too many mistakes that are still too near for my presence to be helpful. It is better I leave, and everyone has a chance to heal apart without me here. Only then can we begin to try to heal together."
As Motoko's words faded, a stillness fell over the room. For a long time, neither girl moved or said a word. The air still felt tense, but it was less than before. Motoko eventually broke the silence as she returned to her packing. For her part, Shinobu remained silent, though Motoko could still feel her gaze on her back. They stayed that way for some time. Motoko packing while Shinobu looked on, neither saying a word. Before too long, Motoko had packed enough for an extended stay at her ancestral home. She set the bag to one side, ready for the early morning trek to the train station. As she reviewed her remaining belongings, she looked at her sword.
It had been polished and treated less than two days ago. Its sheath was placed carefully on its stand, the blade carefully resting within. She remembered when it had been gifted to her. It had been a proud day for her to be given the honor of carrying it. Now, however, she knew that she was not worthy of having the honor of wielding it. She had placed it in its place of honor, hoping that someday she might be worthy of holding it again. Right now, her heart was too heavy with all the careless and reckless pain she had caused others. For now, the blade would rest until someone was worthy enough to hold it. As she gazed upon it, she could feel Shinobu's eyes on her as she looked. She knew the younger girl had noticed her not carrying it. It was almost apart of her the way she had kept it by her side. Its absence had been noticed, she was sure.
A thought came to her, as she stood there gazing. Keeping her eyes on the sheathed blade as if to memorize it's every nuance, Motoko came to a decision, "Shinobu, I would ask that you do something for me."
