Himitsu (Book One of the Kakureta Hana series)

XII: Ju Ni

Silence.

It fills the gaps in between, when Moriko has gone quiet in my arms, her own discomforts forgotten in the dreams of innocence.  It slips through the cracks, when my ears grow used to hear Emi's faint, ragged breaths that sound like walking through crinkly leaves.  It drifts between the chinks of my already devastated mind, when I cannot push back the past any longer.

And in the state of being hungry but not hungry, in the state of being awake but not awake, I remember everything.

Hikaru's kimono was blue, not the light blue of the sky on a clear morning, but the blue that warned that clouds were going to turn the day into a murky gray.  He had retrieved me from Rika's rooms, where she had been drilling countless lessons into my head, slipping a cold hand against mine as we walked.

My heart had beaten against my chest, not with love, no, with desperate terror.  I was going to tell him everything under the dim light of the night sky, lay myself bare in ways that only Ryuu had come close to seeing, and the thought had both exhilarated me and terrified me at the same time.

It started out innocently, the way most of our conversations had, before evolving into the huge ugly moment that led to Rika and Ryuu finding the two of us lying in the garden.  I could feel his callused hands against the skin of my neck, remember the realization that I was so much more fragile than I had ever imagined.  The reflex that had sent me reaching for the single weapon that I had on me, the look of shock on his face as his throat turned the stormy sky of blue into a murky pool of death.

The darkness creeps closer.

It slides cold hands down my arms until I shiver with the overwhelming nothingness of it.  It whispers nonsense in my ear until it all begins to make sense, begins to form words.  It wraps me in itself until all that is left is the feeling of hands about my throat and the panic of being unable to breathe.

"Sakura," it says in a weak voice.  I lean my head against the only tangible thing left in the room, feeling the cold wetness of something drip against the back of my neck.  "Sakura, I need to tell you something."

I hold my babe closer, covering her ears so she cannot hear what the darkness has to say to me alone.

"You are never alone," the darkness whispers again, a female voice that stirs recognition within my mind.  "Regardless of what happens, there is a light that drives away all darkness, that can destroy all that dares to haunt you.  There is still hope."

"Does this light have a name?" I ask as a light laugh escapes me.

"It has many names, Sakura, and you know most of them by heart even if you do not realize it.  The people around you will try to break you, destroy your spirit, damage your body, but you must remain strong.  Do not let the darkness consume you."

Moriko cries, and at the sudden loud noise, I hit my head on the stones.  And realize that the darkness is no more able to talk than the door is to unlock itself.  "Emi?  You are still alive?"

A laugh so faint that I almost miss it drifts from beyond the door.  "It takes more than a knife wielded by a man to kill me, Sakura.  Though it takes time for me to heal, and right now, time is all that we have on our side."

My daughter's wails drown out whatever she would have said next, and I shift her so she can nurse, retrieve what little substance she can from my weakened body.

"How long have we been here, Emi?"  I ask, wondering how long she can carry on a conversation.

"Longer than I ever wanted to be," she mutters, and the sound is fainter as if the last of her strength is starting to give out.  "The future looks bleak, the path I walk seems to be dissipating into the mist, but I must close my eyes and remember that I walk by faith, not by sight."