Hickory Dickory Dock by Tsuki no Tennyo
Hickory Dickory Dock
Author's Note: 1) So here's the epilogue of Tick Tock and Timekeeper I said I was deliberating over (like, a year ago, oops). 2) This was intended to have been written/posted much earlier, but I'd forgotten what file it was named under. 3) I also didn't feel like writing for a while, so meh. 4) Please enjoy! I think I held back on the angst, but my idea of light angst is also wildly different from, say, normal people.
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Time was a thief, and he was the fool.
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Forty, forty-one, forty-two… He didn’t really know why he continued to keep track of her age, counting down the days to when she had bustled into his life and to when she was stolen from him. She was only a human, she shouldn’t have meant anything, yet somehow her presence remained, haunting him despite his better judgment.
He was used to losses. He had never needed to attach himself to others.
And yet her memory weighed heavily on his soul.
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You are Mama’s friend, right?
His back was turned with his eyes remaining focused on the cold stone that bore her name. He had sensed their presences long before either girl spoke, though he remained still to keep up his human guise.
Michi!, the older one spoke up, voice frantic and harsh, You shouldn’t speak to strangers!
He’s not a stranger!, the younger one protested, and he turned just in time to catch her round cheeks puffing up in exasperation at her older sister, He’s Mama’s friend! He’s here to visit her, too!
Visit her, he mused wryly to himself, realizing that unconsciously he had kept up their silly little annual tradition. He placed a hand over his heart, feeling a strange twinge at the child’s words.
You should listen to your sister, he chided the child once before walking past both girls.
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They looked like their mother, he had thought countless times before when she was still sitting across from him, laughing and talking as she showed him pictures of her two little ones. It had been years since those days of him and her, of him pretending to care for those children when in reality he had just enjoyed their mother’s company. Now, having seeing them blossomed into their teenaged years, especially the older one having reached the same age as when he had first met her mother, he found himself feeling both pleased and angry that they had inherited her beauty.
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What’s your name, mister? the younger one—Michi, he recalled—asked a month later when he returned to her grave, surprised to find her daughters lingering there with their grandmother and uncle.
He had kept his distance, waiting until her family had finished their mourning before he would visit her grave. He was surprised when Michi scampered away, wandering over to where he hid by a stranger’s resting place.
She looked at him with large innocent brown eyes that seemed to shine just as brightly as the grin on her face. He wondered how she could be so happy in such a gloomy place. Such a peculiar child, he mused. Then again, her mother was just as odd.
Sesshoumaru, he answered, wondering only a second later if it was wise to give the child his real name, though it wasn’t like he had ever cared for what others thought of him, let alone a little human girl.
Her eyes widened at his response, and he looked at her with curiosity. It wasn’t long before her older sister found her, arriving just as the smaller girl turned and squealed.
He has the same name as Lord Sesshoumaru!
Her sister’s eyes grew rounder, seeming to lose her usual guarded nature as she exhibited the same excitement as her sibling. Strangely, it felt like he was staring into familiar eyes as he watched the two girls traded familiar tales of Lord Sesshoumaru.
He wondered how often she had spun tales for her daughters to hear, using him as the hero in her silly little stories. He almost wanted to laugh in disbelief that she had thought he was ever a hero and not a monster.
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His gaze met the children’s grandmother’s. Her mother. He could see where she had inherited her soft heart. There was a gentleness in the woman that was much too reminiscent of her. He almost wanted to hate the woman for it.
The older woman’s eyes had widened a fraction, seeming to see something—someone—in him before she shook the absurd thought away. Her eyes followed her granddaughters with sad fondness, watching as they continued to act out stories she herself must have heard her daughter tell. He wondered to himself just how much the older woman knew of her daughter, and to a lesser extent, him.
Perhaps just enough, he realized a moment later. With a gentle, trusting nod, she turned and walked down a path to a wooden bench, leaving the girls in his care for the afternoon.
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Mama said you spoiled me, Michi said out of the blue.
He recalled the particular conversation, feeling a shred of shame for having felt only indifference—perhaps even resentment—to the unborn child that was not his. He had only cared about her mother and not her, but her kindness had always did affect the way she had interpreted situations. He looked into the bright girl’s innocent eyes, and his lips quirked upward.
Perhaps he was not as cruel as he had thought.
I suppose I did, he responded after a pause.
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Fearlessly, happily, Michi climbed into his lap when he sat down on the ground beneath a nearby tree. He looked down at the child, astonished by the bold act. She snuggled closer against him, her eyes closed as she yawned.
I miss Mama, she confessed, I miss her hugs. She’s hugged you before, right?
He was quiet, remembering only the wall they had put up between them. He faltered, recalling he was the one to lay down the first stone.
If I hug you, Michi continued, unaware, It’s like hugging Mama, right?
He watched as she drifted off, the warm afternoon sun had gently lulled her to sleep.
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Mama talked about you a lot, the older girl, Chieko, revealed an hour later, appearing casual, though her stiff tone betrayed otherwise. She kept her eyes on her sister, who had just woken up from her brief nap, watching as the younger girl took fascination in anything and everything around her, being more free-spirited, more resilient than her older sister.
His eyes remained on the teenaged girl, observing the little tics, like uneven breathing and rapid blinking as she tried to suppress her emotions. He was more skilled than the girl could ever be when it came to controlling his façade, so he revealed nothing, answering quite dismissively, Is that so?
Are you the reason why Papa left us? she finally asked, the scent of salty tears permeated the air.
I do not know, he admitted honestly, watching as teardrops fell.
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Do you…visit Mama a lot? Chieko hesitantly asked, eyes darting to him briefly before turning away.
Barely, the word tugged in the back of his mind when he remembered the times when she was still alive.
Frequently, he answered, remembering many days escaping to where she laid now.
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I don’t hate you, Chieko admitted.
Should you hate me? he questioned the girl, observing the different expressions that flickered across her young face.
Mama…wanted to be with you, she said quietly, Mama was sad…when she couldn’t see you.
With each word spoken, he could see the sharp pain stabbing the girl, her eyes glazing ever so slightly as she seemed to recall these memories. She seemed far older than her actual age, being burdened by lonely memories and emotions beyond her comprehension. He wondered if life had always been this impartially cruel, even to those just starting on this long path.
I don’t hate you, she repeated, her voice barely audible, Mama wouldn’t want me to.
How peculiar, he thought to himself, realizing that he also couldn’t feel animosity to these children of hers.
She wouldn’t have wanted him to either, he knew.
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Michi clumsily weaved him a flower crown from wildflowers grown all around the cemetery. It fell apart before she could even attempt to crown him with her floral creation.
Do not cry, he chided the young girl when she sniffed and her eyes watered at the sight of her failure. He picked up a pink flower, a single petal fell just as he tucked it behind the girl’s left ear. You remind me of someone.
Mama? she questioned with expectant wide eyes.
His face lowered, a mirthless chuckle slipped. No, he answered, surprising even himself, Someone else.
I know who! Chieko piped up excitedly from behind him, amazing him with her sudden bright smile. The Tale of Lord Sesshoumaru and Rin!
Michi giggled at the revelation, her hands clapped together in glee. Her earlier disappointment seemed to have disappeared entirely now as both she and her sister recited to him a forgotten story from a time that could very well have been just a fairy tale.
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What did you and Mama talk about? Michi held onto his left hand, and pulled him with all of her strength toward where her mother rested.
The sun was starting to set, bathing the sky in a soft warm glow. Faint chirps could be heard as birds flew overhead, disappearing off the horizon to where home was waiting for them. In the near distance, he could make out the approaching scent of the children’s grandmother. He had never expected them to stay with him for so long, for him to feel something akin to affections for these girls of hers. He gently tightened his hold on Michi’s small hand, letting one foot stepped forward.
He looked behind him, seeing her older sister looked away shyly, her arms wrapped tightly around herself in some form of self-comfort. Silently, he held his other hand out to the girl, seeing a smile crept onto her face as she stepped forward and took the offered hand with joy.
Life, he said quietly, knowing it was much too vague of an answer for them to understand at this age, but it was the only word that seemed fitting enough.
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Sesshoumaru?
Yes?
Did you love Mama?
Yes.
We knew it.
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The girls smiled.
His heart felt lighter.