M The Last of His Daughter

[P0rcelain]

Spoiler: Content Warning

Dark themes, suicide

3251 GC, Ashiaver
Praeth, Tyria

Yumiko scampered through the darkened, moonlit streets of the town she had called home for the last thirty years. A rowdy festival cheered in the distance, paper lanterns dancing like starbugs under a fragrant tree. It brought to surface memories for her. The memories of a man fifty years prior, who had battled vaesan and lycan alike. A man who had fought, celebrated and loved.

She was far enough now to hear her footsteps loudly pitter-patter against the dirt road. She reached grass and ferns, feeling them beat against her legs and hearing them swish and cut at her. She ran and ran, until her legs began to tire. Then, she began unfastening her clothes as she sprinted. Her ears became long and furred, and a bushy tail sprouted from the end of her spine. Claws grew from her hands and she leaned down, starting to prance on all fours.

A worried husband began calling her name from the streets. “Yumiko! Yumiko, please! Has anyone seen my wife?!”

Her large, vulpine ears heard his pleas. They felt like a thousand arrows burying themselves deep in her chest. She also heard the sound of a raging, early spring river. Her sprint began to slow.

Thoughts surged in her panicked, aching mind. Who was she anymore? Who was this man she remembered? His name was Shun. Shun Nagasawa. She was Yumiko Hashimoto. The daughter of Mirie Hashimoto. A powerful, martially adept woman who knew how to laugh. A woman who had a child. She wanted that. Yumiko wanted children. A knife pierced her heart.

Her black fur receded as she stumbled onto her back legs. She heard wetness tap softly on the stone path below her now bare feet. She raised a hand to touch her closed eyes. She was crying. Yumiko thought back to her husband as she walked towards the bridge that went over the river. He loved her. She knew he loved him. Even though he was her second husband, he truly did. Even despite that fact, their relationship waned. They loved each other, yet there were no children. Everyone in the village was starting to notice. They were starting to compliment how Yumiko looked. They would say she looked young for her age. That she did not look a day older.

She looked up at the view ahead of her. A beautiful, full moon watching over the distant mountains. That river yelled with all its might under a beautiful flowering tree. The stone bridge underneath shimmered and glowed in the light. She heard a beastly, lycan pant behind her, then a voice.

“Yumiko.” He said. “I know.”

She felt her eyes moisten more than they were, a pain coming from her throat.

“I saw you running. I saw you that night too.”

“...I’m not a monster.” Yumiko strained. Every word was difficult to project.

“I know. I fell in love with you. You are my wife.”

She stepped onto the bridge, feeling the calming aura of the water underneath. She cried a tortured reply. “Then why do you stand so far from me?”

In the corner of her vision, the man stepped closer in silence. In his step he was showing his age.

“I… I…” She stuttered.

Again, he stepped closer.

“I’m not Yumiko.” She wanted that. She wanted to be Yumiko. But she wasn’t.

“Who are you?” The man said, awe and adoration oozing like honey from every part of his soothing voice. The sweetness made her hurt more.

“I do not know.” She stepped towards the guard of the bridge, placing a hand on its freezing cold surface.

“It is okay.” He said.

“I am… Mirie. Mirie Hashimoto… I… died…” She began breaking up. “I died eighty seven years ago.”

He stood in stunned silence, then asked in an amazement that betrayed his worry for her: “...How old are you?”

“A hundred and thirty six.” She said it with such confidence, as though there was no doubt that it was true. Mirie Hashimoto never had a child.

He shook his head in pity for her. He had fallen in love with an ancient spirit and forced it to be a lycan. He felt ashamed, even though he was not the tiniest bit at fault. His attention was raised as his wife climbed up onto the side of the bridge.

“Yumi-... Mirie.” He corrected himself with a softer tone. “Do not do it.”

“...I want to see Master again.” She sobbed.

“Mirie.” He repeated sternly. “Tell me about your Master.”

She stood with acute balance on the guard. “...H-he was my father. He adopted me.”

“Was he a lycan?”

In a different context she would have been surprised that her husband could not be certain anymore. Right now, she had no energy to be surprised by anything anymore.

“He was a lycan.” She simply replied, her nerves steadying.

Mirie watched the water below. A thick, white foam splashed up into the air as the water hit rocks and rushed down, running from its past as ice upon the greatest mountains. All she could think about was her sensei. Master Hashimoto.

“He lives on in his beautiful daughter. You have become more than he could have ever hoped for, I am certain, Mirie.” Her husband spoke with such careful and deliberate love.

His words reminded her of that love. His love reminded her of what she could not seem to have. She was reminded that she was a sham. A fake. She was living a false life. She felt her body loosen and sway.

She spoke calmly and clearly, with the beautiful, monotone song that he had adored. “Why do I fight…”

“Why…?” He was taken aback.

She sighed with defeat. “Why did I stop fighting? Who have I become…”

Feeling that it was the time, Yumiko’s husband rushed forward and raised a hand to help her down. She leaned away from him towards the rapids below. Before she fell into the freezing water, he saw wings sprout from her bare back and a long, serpentine tail. These draconian features mingling with a black blur of fur. Forms appeared before him like he had never seen before. He shouted her name and tried to grab at her, tears reaching his eyes too.

He saw her fall into the depths. Once more, Mirie had made the wrong choice.

He never said a thing. Just that his wife had tragically ended her own life.

That strange form he saw was not seen again in that lifetime.

There was no body. No cadaver washed ashore.

Only his memory of his treasured, ókori wife.

The woman he could not save.

The spirit that he loved.

~ Fin ~