It is gentle, the way time caresses us all. We do not notice it in anything more than fleeting flashes, but one day we can look in the mirror and not even recognize the person staring back.

Time was kind of like a demon, one you faced and you fought. It was a strong demon, and humans like her were nothing against it. There was no win in sight for the underdog human, just the inevitable loss and the undeniable heartbreak.

She fought against it for years. She flipped through every book, she spoke to every witch, she tried every combination of root and herb she could think of. She swung the sword, she prayed to the gods, she built temples even. She chanted words, she changed directions, she changed bedding and rooms and towns. Nothing changed, the illness got worse as the time pushed it along.

It was a long fight, such a long fight. From nine to twenty-seven, that was how long the illness lasted in her life, and in that twenty-seventh year, her battle finally came to an end. Panting and heavy-hearted, she finally shut her eyes and let the tears fall.

When she opened her brown eyes once more, and let her peach colored lips open slightly to let her final farewell slip by, it took everything within her not to scream and shout, make a scene if you will.

"Rest well, my lord Sesshōmaru."