InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Makai ❯ Remembrance ( Chapter 23 )

Chapter Twenty-Three: Remembrance

 

 

 

Makai dreamed of people that night. She knew that she should recognize them, but the knowledge was just beyond her reach. She watched them, drinking in their activities. Slowly, she felt herself fall into the dream, standing in the shadows as events played themselves out.

 

A petite woman with short, curly sable hair much like her own stood watching two children running around a playground, a melancholy smile on her face. She had taken her niece and nephew (for Makai realized that was who the kids were) out on a date. How she knew the woman referred to outings such as this as dates she wasn't sure. It just felt right.

 

She watched the woman call the two children forward. The boy was five; again she wasn't sure how she knew. He was ornery, but very loving. He was also very bright. He liked Spiderman and Harry Potter. He had a speech problem, but that was mostly due to being with his sister for most of his life. The siblings were very close.

 

The girl was seven. She, too, was bright, but she had a special gift. She could see the spirit world. In the last couple of years she had learned to channel her gift so that it wasn't always present. The girl was “mildly autistic.” Really, she had tendencies and difficulty with certain concepts when learning. Her eyes, though, was what drew people. She was much too young to have those eyes. They held immense wisdom. She'd been born with them, much as if she'd seen too much life before she'd taken her first breaths.

 

A woman walked up to stand beside the other. She, too, wore an expression of sadness. She was the mother of the two children, her resemblance to the girl uncanny. She was happy that her sister had given the children this brief moment of happiness. They missed their cousin terribly. She'd been missing for almost seven months. No trace of her had been found.

 

A woman, older than the other two, came to stand next to the mother. She was the grandmother. Her sadness almost equaled the woman with the curly hair. She let a small smile grace her features at the antics of her other grandchildren. She missed the oldest. She could light up the sky. She was the one that truly brought their family together, and her absence was taking its toll on them all.

 

Two men came to stand with the women. One stood behind the mother, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin on her head. The other went to stand by the grandmother. He was the uncle. He'd had trouble with alcohol in the past, but since the disappearance of his oldest niece he hadn't drunken anything. He still remembered bringing her home from the hospital. His sadness rivaled that of the woman with the curly hair. Makai realized the woman with the curly hair was the mother of the missing child.

 

She watched with growing sadness at the family cloaked in their grief. She figured the children hadn't grasped the seriousness of the situation. They seemed so carefree. A light in a dark room. Then she noticed the girl. Her eyes, too, were tinged with sadness. It was deep within her. She knew her cousin wasn't there, and she missed her. Then Makai looked at the boy. His eyes were also saddened. He and his sister were allowing themselves this brief moment of bliss as much for their family as for themselves. Silent tears coursed down Makai's face. She could feel consciousness pulling at her. She turned away from the scene, never hearing the girl's words.

 

“Mommy, where is Makai?”

 

Makai awoke with a start. She was in a bed, momentarily disoriented by how she'd come to be there until she remembered last night. Looking around her, she realized Sesshoumaru wasn't there. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe it was just a one time thing. Sighing with sadness, she went to stand when she felt a presence at the door. Looking up, she met his amber eyes.

 

“And where do you think you're going,” he asked, a touch of humor in his eyes.

 

“I was going to my room,” she said.

 

“This is your room now,” he intoned, stepping closer to her. She backed up until her knees hit the bed, causing her to fall into its softness. He crawled over her, pressing his growing erection against her center, a small smirk on his face.

 

“I'm having a little problem,” he drawled.

 

“I think that's a big problem. We'd better fix it,” she laughed as he seized her mouth. He drew the covers from her form, exposing her body to his view. Smiling seductively, he worked at bringing them both to that brink once more.

 

Meanwhile, worlds away, a small woman with curly sable hair stood looking out a window. A Christmas tree sat in a corner, but its cheer was lost on the occupants. An aunt with her husband and two children, a grandmother, and an uncle. None of the gathered brood wished to celebrate the season. They were each too lost in their own thoughts.

 

It had been seven months. Seven months since her daughter had disappeared. Nothing in her room had been disturbed. There were no signs of forced entry. Her purse and keys still lay on the kitchen table. She had vanished. Tears fell from the woman's eyes, looking but never seeing the gently falling snow. The beauty of it was lost to her.

 

“Oh, Makai, where are you,” she whispered sorrowfully.