Behold Her, an inuyasha fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own Inuyasha.

A/N: Rated K+ for KABLAM!

He was twelve, and she was a porcelain doll, coated with a thin layer of dust as she lay alongside the road.

Discarded, lost and being searched for, now without an owner.

He picked her up when he saw her; something compelled him to. Her quaint little nose and thinly curved lips never moved, never smiled, and she wore what looked like scraps of fabric sewn together by clumsy fingers.

The doll was a cross between the type owned by princesses, noble girls, and village workers, with a fine porcelain face but clothed in rags. There was something about this one, this forgotten, unsmiling doll. He kept a close eye on her, but he couldn't help but let his eye be drawn to other figurines, marvelling in the expertise at which they were sculpted, the finery in which they were clothed.

It was the same behaviour he noticed in all people. Wanting what was the most beautiful, most new and finely crafted. As time wore away old belongings, there was this desire to get rid of them, to have something more, and to forget old memories and old loyalties. Through all this, and all he was experiencing every passing day, the doll he had found on the road was still close to him, tucked in his grasp.

One day his hold was so loose that he dropped the doll, and her beautifully crafted face cracked against a rock.

Behold Her

-- --

She had never thought of herself as attractive, even remotely pretty, and far from beautiful. In her own honest, humble opinion, she was just average. Another girl in a kimono and sandals who just happened to don a demon exterminator's garb from time to time. So when he made her feel beautiful, indeed, she felt beautiful. She blamed her naiveté on that. But, with learning, as quickly as such compliments could be dispensed on her, they were just as swiftly dissolved away with insincerity.

The monk had worked his way into her good graces as they walked, hoping to reach a village soon. They'd been following unreliable sources in their travels, and it had been days since they last slept indoors.

"Excuse me travellers, but are you heading towards the next village?"

It was a young girl, the houshi was happy about that. She had a head of jet black hair, falling in inky strands against tanned skin, and stood there before them shuffling her feet. Sango guessed she worked in the fields like most her age would.

"Yes we are, young lady. You wouldn't happen to be travelling that way as well?" He was truly in his element.

"Actually, I am," she said. "I would be grateful if you allowed me to travel with you, a youkai appeared and killed my companion, a man from my village. It had almost killed me!" She revealed a tear in her skirt, her bottom lip beginning to shake.

Inuyasha narrowed his eyes at her. "How did you get aw--"

"You will need consoling," the monk said immediately, taking her hands in his. "My name is Miroku, and I would be most honoured if you would - "

Hiraikotsu was thrust forcefully into the dirt and Sango leaned on it, Kirara at her heels hissing at the both of them. "Shall we go?"

"Ah, these are the rest of my companions," Miroku started again. "Kagome, a miko, Shippou, a young kitsune, Inuyasha, a hanyou, and this is Sango, a demon exterminator, and her firecat, Kirara."

The girl's face lit with realization and she promptly dropped her potential suitor's hands, turning to Sango with an elated expression. Miroku seemed to deflate.

"A taijiya? You're a taijiya?" the girl said happily, clapping her hands. "I've heard so many stories about your clan. My forefathers told me a lot about you."

"Yes, I am," Sango confirmed with a tight smile, although she couldn't help flushing slightly due to the flattery.

"Are there any others with you?" she continued excitedly, craning her neck to more closely examine Kagome.

"No. I am the last of my kind."

"Oh," she said in surprise. "My condolences. I was always in awe at the abilities of your clan."

Sango straightened with dignity and pulled her weapon over her shoulder. "Thank you."

"You know," the girl continued as she began to walk, the rest following behind her and Sango. "You're really quite pretty, did you know that? It's amazing, because taijiya are strong skilled warriors, with more than their share of battle scars, emotional and physical."

"How I look does not mean that I have not experienced my fair share of battles," Sango responded curtly. "There were other women who were warriors as well."

"Then you are a great warrior?"

"Sango was the best in her village!" Shippou piped up, bouncing.

"How are you the sole survivor of the clan?" the girl questioned curiously.

Miroku sensed the sadness that had begun to gather in Sango's stomach but she answered before he could cause a distraction.

"We were played underhandedly." Her tone indicated she would hear no more about the subject.

Sango's attention had been focused on the path ahead of them when something hooked around her arm, jerking her backwards. "I dropped my money," the girl was wailing, hanging off of Sango's arm. "I need to bring it with me."

"And you just noticed now?" Inuyasha pointed out.

She only nodded earnestly. "Taijiya are very good at spotting things along the ground; please, the rest of you can wait here, I do not want to trouble you. Sango-sama and I will return shortly."

Miroku watched their backs as the temporary addition pulled Sango away with her in the opposite direction, leaving the rest of them to absorb what had just happened.

"What do you think, Inuyasha?" Kagome asked the hanyou, whose nose was turned up in slight distaste.

"If they're not back by the time I get to ten, we're going after them."

"Why?" Shippou demanded inquisitively. "She only lost her money. And if she gets attacked, Sango's with her! Didn't you see how amazed she was to meet Sango?"

"Come to think of it, she was quite taken with her," Kagome agreed.

"The taijiya are widely known for their services," Miroku reasoned, still looking down the path by which the two wisdom had disappeared. "It's plausible."

"You don't sound too sure," Shippou remarked, leaning on Kirara. "We shouldn't doubt Sango."

"I know the wench said she was attacked . . . she reeked of the scent of a youkai. It was all over her, but she escaped while her male companion was killed?"

Inuyasha stared in the direction Sango and the girl had left. "Ten."

The girl was still latched onto Sango's wrist, twisting her head from side to side, scanning the dust of the path, occasionally stopping to investigate likely areas. Unfortunately, all that they found were pebbles.

"I'm sorry, um -- "

"Kamakiri"

"Kamakiri," Sango repeated. "If we've gone this far, it's unlikely we will find any of your money."

Abruptly, she let go of Sango's wrist, her head bent. "How far away do you think we are?"

"Far enough." Sango raised her hand to grip the strap of her weapon, her other hand reaching under the cloth of her apron.

"Now to ask, are you really the last of your clan?" Kamakiri's voice had lowered, reverting from a deep gravely tone to the village girl's high pitched whine. Her shoulders began to quiver and the body beneath her clothing began to contract.

"Shit." Sango took a few steps backward, swinging Hiraikotsu around her and readying it for an attack. "Kamakiri -- a mantis."

The village girl's shoulder blades elongated and burst through her clothing, forming the thorax of an insect demon. Her arms became jointed claws with hooked ends, and her legs extended and became a blend of green and tan. The stretched, torn skin of the devoured village girl landed softly on the gravel, only to be stepped upon by a gargantuan front leg.

The massive creature turned, revealing a triangular face and large prismatic eyes, with two large antennae wavering meticulously atop its head.

"The taijiya killed my forefathers and family," the demon uttered in malice. "You are the last, and with your death I will avenge them."

Sango quickly rolled to the side as a claw dug a deep hole in the earth inches from where she had been witnessing the transformation. Reaching inside her sleeve, she pulled out two of the scent bombs used in exterminations and threw them at the ground near the mantis-youkai's legs.

A large cloud of smoke and dust formed, and Sango used the time to pull out her filtering mask and secure it around her head. Not wanting to remain in a fixed position, she darted around the lumbering legs of the youkai, preparing to swing Hiraikotsu towards it and sever its neck.

The ground rumbled as another claw crashed to the ground in front of her; the youkai was attacking blindly. She turned to run between the legs of the large insect when the second claw shot down from above, and she barely had time to get out of its path before it descended upon the earth.

Rolling to the side roughly, she looked up and gauged the distance between herself and the demon's head in a split second. Keeping a hand pointing towards her target, she heaved Hiraikotsu forward with so much force she nearly fell forward.

There was a shudder beneath her feet and the legs of the insect twitched. Vile smelling blood began to rain from above her, falling onto the ground in puddles. Her heels dug into the trampled earth as Hiraikotsu returned.

Stealthily dodging the flailing limbs of the injured demon, Sango moved a good distance away, rubbing her eyes as dust and sound blew past her.

Screaming in effort, she released her weapon a second time to kill the demon and do away with its head, which was hanging off the body by a mere tendon. The edge of the boomerang cut through the air swiftly and plunged into the partially severed neck of the insect, causing its head to completely detach and fall to the ground in slow motion.

She was moving forward, an arm raised to catch the returning Hiraikotsu, when it was suddenly knocked aside, and instead, she looked up to see the sharp edge of the youkai's claws approaching her at a rapid pace.

The body had nearly fallen, crumpling to a mess beside the bleeding head of the youkai. However, the limbs were still twitching.

Another scream filled the air, but in pain and surprise.

Sango swore through gritted as she saw the blood dripping onto her hands from a fresh wound on her face. The mask she was once wearing lay on the ground.

Her face stinging, she heaved Hiraikotsu one last time at the demon remains, cutting them in half again to prevent any more movement from the demon. "I hope you were the last one of your kind too," she muttered, as she caught her weapon in midair.

"Damn it," she winced, dropping her weapon to hold her face again. Blood seeped through her fingers.

"Sango!" Inuyasha's voice emanated in the distance. "Is it dead already?"

He appeared in front of her, surveying the corpse of the insect demon. "You took care of it?" he said shortly, sheathing his sword back in his scabbard. "I knew it. She was a demon."

"Sango-chan!" Kagome cried, running up to her, holding Shippou and touching her shoulder. "What happened?"

Sango pulled her hand away from her face and Kagome gasped. "Is it deep?"

Shippou gaped at her open-mouthed. "Ew."

Inuyasha turned around at this, frowning. "I hope we're not going to have to go back to Kaede's for this."

Kagome shot him a glare. "Sango-chan," she was now rummaging through her backpack. "We have to stop the bleeding."

"I had it dead, but it twitched and the claw jerked upwards and got me," Sango explained. The stain on her clothing grew darker as she tried to clean her hands off.

"Sango," Miroku inquired as he approached. "How serious is it?"

She looked at him through spaces between her fingers. "I'm fine Houshi-sama, Kagome-chan will do what she can. You should see to the rites."

He looked as though he didn't want to leave her, but he did anyway, the jangling of the rings on his staff fading behind her.

"Let me see, Sango-chan," Kagome instructed, pulling at her wrist.

Sango noticed the blood dripping from her eyelashes and the tip of her nose as Kagome bit her lip. "I'm going to have to wrap this, okay? You'll only be able to see out of one eye."

She set to work, winding the string of gauze around her head, securing one end with a strip of medical tape Shippou handed her.

"We're going to have to go back to Kaede -"

"No," Sango interjected, trying to ignore the stinging sensation beneath the wrappings. "I'm fine. We can find the next town."

"Are you sure?" Kagome asked worriedly. "You might get an infection and - "

"It's fine," Sango reiterated. "I'm fine. When we get to the next town, it can be washed and dressed and heal normally."

"Let's go," Inuyasha commanded as he walked up beside Kagome. "We can get a little farther."

Kagome looked hesitantly at the injured girl. "Sango-chan says it's okay if we go."

"I'll find us lodging for the night," Miroku assured as he joined the group. He glanced towards Sango, who refused to take her hands away from her face once it had been dressed.

"I'm sorry if it hurts."

"It doesn't."

Kagome poured a transparent substance onto a fresh cloth as she tossed the used one into a basin. "Ready?"

Sango gripped her thighs, wincing as the pungent cloth rubbed softly at her wound, causing it to sting and burn acidly. She was sure the suppressed pain showed in her face.

"All done." The cloth fell into the basin, now filled with reddened water. Sango reached out, finding Kagome's wrist and gripping it tightly.

"Kagome-chan," she whispered. "Tell me how it looks."

She stared at Sango unsurely, her eyes moving up and down with the wound across her face. "You aren't one to be conscious about --"

"No," Sango said sharply. "Tell me how it looks."

Kagome pulled her hand away and touched Sango's chin gently, turning it up.

"It stretches from just below your right eye, across the bridge of your nose, and ends at the edge of your left cheek," she described, keeping her voice soft.

Sango unhanded her friend and leaned back to lie down on the floor. "It's just another scar. Always another scar."

Kagome graced her with a sympathetic frown, pulling out a fresh roll of gauze from her bag. "It will heal."

She acted as though she hadn't heard her. "May I borrow your mirror?"

"Sure," Kagome responded hesitantly, taking the small compact from her bag and passing it to her. "Sango-chan, it will heal," she repeated.

Sango's head tilted towards her as she readied the bandages, the mirror clutched tightly in her hands. "I can hide the others, Kagome-chan. A disfiguring mark -- across my face -- I cannot hide that easily."

And so he picked up his fallen trinket, holding the porcelain gently with his fingers so that the cracks would not deepen. Really, what would he do with a broken doll? He could not sell her, could not give her away as a keepsake to a poor village girl.

Who would want this when they could have something better?

He had a spare cloth, which he wrapped the doll's delicate form in. Tucking the bundle securely about his chest, he vowed that he would look for a way to mend it in the next town. It surely was his fault, the way he had been so careless with her.

For the day he had found it along the road, he had a strange sort of attachment to it, taking it everywhere he went. Even when he would forget she was there, he knew that she would always be there, tucked about his heart.

"How is Sango?" Miroku asked, straightening as Kagome approached. He acted as though the girls surrounding him had gone temporarily invisible.

"She's doing fine."

"You don't sound too sure."

"Well," she looked at her hands. "Her wound isn't that serious. A bit deep, but it will heal within a few weeks. What I'm concerned about . . . "

One of the girls tugged on his sleeve. "Houshi-sama, you haven't finished telling me my future prospects yet!" she reminded him.

"Ah, well," he began jovially, taking her hand in his. Kagome shot him a look.

"You'll become old and aged, but happy and beautiful," he inserted as her face fell. "And have two beautiful girls who will become very good wives to - "

"Come on Miroku-sama," Kagome sighed, pulling at his wrist. "I want to ask you something."

The women were a chorus of frustrated sighs as their monk was pulled away from them by one, oddly dressed girl. Their one consolation was that he turned around to flash them an apologetic smile.

"Well?" he prompted when they had put enough distance between them and the young women. "What's wrong?"

"Like I said, Sango-chan's wound will heal."

"And that is very good news."

"But I'm concerned -- this time is different. She has no true scars on her face, Miroku-sama. It's different."

She didn't know what reaction she expected, but it wasn't a warm smile that a father gave a naive daughter.

"Have faith in Sango, Kagome-sama. She is an experienced fighter, is she not? I bet she barely had any trouble with the youkai she fought."

"But, Miroku-sama!" she said, not sure of what she was so frustrated about. He looked at her expectantly.

"Never mind." She crossed her arms and walked away, almost stomping.

Shaking his head, he walked back to the girls waiting for him and plastered a smile on his face. Kagome had said it herself; the injury wasn't serious. He knew Sango wouldn't appreciate him buzzing around her while she dealt with it. She was stronger than that.

He was still sitting outside where he had been flirting with the village women when she exited the room she was resting in. It was fairly dark, and she wasn't carrying any light. She did not see him.

From a distance, he could see the gauze and cloth taped onto her face, across her nose and just below her eye. Other than that, nothing.

She sat down along the porch, kicking the loose blades of grass and swinging her legs. What was she thinking about?

Silently, he stood from his spot in the courtyard, walking towards her. The grass crunched beneath his feet and the rings of his staff nearly melded with the sounds of night.

"Is your injury healing well?" he said casually as he sat down. Her hair veiled her face, and as he approached, she had turned away from him.

"It's fine. It stopped stinging from Kagome-chan's cleansing liquids some time ago," she laughed weakly. "I wonder if that stuff really does sterilize if it hurts so much."

He continued to stare straight ahead, a hand resting on his staff where he had pressed it into the dirt. "Are you healing well, Sango?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "It is barely a scratch, compared -- compared to . . . compared to the injuries you cannot see."

The low hum of cicadas in the branches filled the night and he moved a little closer.

"I hope that those are healing well too."

There was silence before the rustle of fabric as she stood. Leaving him, presumably, to sleep.

"You are a demon slayer, are you not?" one of the more outgoing girls asked, tapping Sango on the shoulder.

Sango narrowed her eyes slightly. "Yes, I am, is there a problem?"

The girl recoiled. "I'm sorry, did I offend you?"

"No, not at all," Sango gathered the bottles she was filling with water and piled them in her arms. "I've been on edge lately."

"Let me help you with those," the peasant insisted, pulling a bottle out of her grip. "These are . . ."

Sango turned around to stop her. A small gasp, and a crunching of plastic.

"My, taijiya-san! Where did you receive that battle scar?" Any more shocked awe in her voice and she would have been speechless.

"I fought a youkai not too long ago," Sango replied curtly, picking up the fallen bottle. Shame she wasn't more interested in the revolutionary material it was made out of. "It is healing fine."

"It's quite a sight."

"I'm sure it is." She turned around again to walk away swiftly.

"You're very pretty," the girl said sincerely. "I'm sure your husband is a very proud man."

"Yes," Sango replied after a lapse of silence. "You'd like to think that."

All she had wanted to do was inform the monk that they were to depart tomorrow morning. She never wanted to interrupt the stupid delivery of his infamous line, she never wanted him to stop and draw the attention of everyone to her.

"Houshi-sama, I -"

She stopped at the collective hush that arose from the audience of villagers, previously listening attentively to one of Miroku's grossly exaggerated tales. Now, they focused solely on her.

"Houshi-sama, Inuyasha requested I tell you that we - "

"Demon slayer!" an excited young girl ran towards her and tugged on her skirt. "Please tell us the story of that admirable wound!"

Sango looked from her excited young face to the crowd listening in half-anticipation. Her eyes widened and she panicked, moving away from the little girl.

"I had an encounter with a demon not too long ago, and as it was dying, it struck me across the face," she said firmly. "It will heal." Her voice echoed defiantly in her ears. It will heal, she had to remind herself of that.

Someone in the sea of faces spoke aloud. "May we see the wound?"

In reflex, Sango's hand reached upwards to gingerly hold the cloth taped across her nose and underneath her eye. "I'd rather you not - "

"But please?" A little boy spoke now. "Nothing of interest happens by our little village that often."

"You should be glad for that," Sango said, a little more sharply than she had intended.

Stop looking at me, just stop looking at me.

Suddenly, as if on cue from her thoughts of wishing to be ignored, the cuts began to sting.

Both hands sprang to her face, and she winced, willing herself not to swear in front of the children. Her fingernails entangled in the crossed threads of the gauze, and in anger, she yanked at the entire dressing.

A sharp, yet short lived pain erupted from there the tape separated from her skin. "Shit," she winced, but it sounded more as though she was quieting someone.

The upturned gauze lay in her hands, coated with layers upon layers of absorbed blood and fluids

"Are you alright, taijiya-san?" It was the girl from the stream. "Shall we get your miko companion?"

Sango pushed her hair over her shoulder, and without thinking, looked up at the girl. She was too late in hiding the horrified expression that flickered over her face.

"Oh -- Oh my gosh, taijiya-san," she took a few steps back, holding a hand over her heart. "I'll go get your friend." With footsteps padding on the dirt, she fled.

Silently, and bitterly she took in every one of the pitying faces, marvelling at her unsightly gash and unable to find an appropriate word.

Finally, she centered her stare on Houshi-sama, and she stiffened. He did not even flinch.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," she said, cutting into the still quiet. "Houshi-sama, Inuyasha wished me to inform you we are to be leaving by sunrise. You may finish recounting your tale."

Crumpling the used bandages in her hands, she bowed to the villagers. "Good night."

Kagome had come running, being pulled along by the girl who had sent for her. "Sango-chan!" she called, coming to a stop in front of her. "What happened?"

Sango looked up at her. It hurt to frown, it hurt to smile, so she did neither.

When it was repaired, he asked that a smile not be painted on the frown, because that 's how he had found her -- frowning. This doll was someone's childhood -- lost, gone and sad -- and he wouldn't pretend it had never happened. For it was that history, the thoughts he had of the girl who had maybe shared countless memories with this toy, that had caused him to keep it all this time, until he would give it away.

"The stars burning out only makes the others shine brighter. If they could, they'd laugh at the old, dulling stars."

Sango sighed, and Kirara nuzzled her cheek affectionately. "Kirara, am I ugly to you now?"

There was a bright flare of light as the cat demon grew to the size of a tiger. Strands of creme-yellow fur brushed against Sango's cheeks as Kirara her head shook in indignation.

"You're right, I've looked worse, haven't I?"

A small smile stretched her lips, and Sango reached up to touch the fresh dressings softly. "What was I before then?" she continued. She raised her chin and posed with her nose in the air in a mocking rendition of a noble princess. "Was I the pinnacle of earthly beauty?"

Her feline companion nodded, then shook her head to convey her confusion to her mistress. Sango laughed, and smoothed the fur on the demon's head. "You're right. It wasn't that important to me before, was it?"

Frowning, she pushed upon the wound until she felt the sharp sting of fresh pain. It was oddly satisfying. Tangible, eroding pain.

"Amazing," she laughed aloud, to the stars burning out and Kirara, "that a stupid mantis could do this. I killed it, I cut off its head, but I have no idea what it's done to me. 'Best in the village,' was what Shippou said -- the best in the village completely thrown off by a little wound."

Her youkai companion settled on her hind legs, trying to get her mistress to lean against her. "And all those things she said about the taijiya," Sango continued. "Kamakiri. I'm losing my concentration out there. I should have known sooner. I'm distracted."

Suddenly restless, she untied her blue carrying cloth and pulled out her sword. Taking an offensive stance, she began striking out, darting forward, parrying against an invisible victim. This is what really matters.

She approached a tree and began to stab at it, strips of bark and chips of wood catching Kirara in the forehead. With a final gasp of release she struck the tree, embedding the blade a little more than a quarter way into the wood. Her hand shook, and she dropped the handle, falling to one knee and catching her breath.

"Sango."

Miroku caught her elbow as she swung it back. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "That was my blind side."

"If I'm interrupting something, I can always come back later," he told her, his eyes briefly moving towards the blade embedded in the tree.

"No, it's fine," she said, somewhat embarrassed, and pulled the blade from the trunk cleanly before she bent down to fold her cloth over it.

"Is this all right with you?" he asked, sitting down where she had been previously. Kirara, having reverted to her small feline form, chased a moth hovering in the air.

How is it not?

For awhile, no one said anything.

"Your politeness is endearing, Sango," he commented evenly. The grass rustled as she sat down..

"What are you talking about? she muttered, still seated across from him, still turned away.

"I am not a king," he said lightly. "I don't mind if you look up every now and then."

Sango wrung her fingers together.

"Besides," he filled her silence. "If one spends their entire life looking down, they will never see ahead. It is best to look forward, most of the time."

"Houshi-sama," she replied shortly. "We leave at sunrise. We should sleep."

He tossed something with a weight into her lap.

So now he's stoning me.

"Look at that pebble," he indicated the one he had thrown to her. "And this pebble," he held up a similar stone in his hand. "Are they any different from one another?"

"Yours is fatter on one side," she noted dully.

He laughed a bit, not forced, but very gentle, with a learned patience. "Use your imagination. Imagine yours is a diamond."

She looked down at the rock again. "I suppose I can."

He reached towards her lap and took the stone back, laying it a hand width apart from his. He then stood suddenly, readying his staff. Instinctively, Sango moved backwards as well. With a loud clang, and an abrupt jangling of metal rings, he brought the sharpened edge of the staff down against the rock. A little spark was emitted at the friction.

When the tiny cloud of dust that had risen cleared, he bent to one knee and ushered Sango closer. "This is the diamond," he said, pointing to the pebble that now had a clear indentation in it. "The one you were holding. This," he pointed to the untouched pebble beside it. "This is still a pebble, flawless and smooth, but a pebble."

He raised his head and suddenly, she found herself looking directly at him. His hands came close, so close that she could feel heat from his hands jumping onto her face.

"Which one has more worth?"

When she didn't answer, because she didn't want to, he took the two stones and laid them in her hands, closing her fingers around them.

"The precious stone, people spill blood and sweat to find. It is a rare thing, found in the bottom of streams and mines, and even then, are only revered for their beauty once they are cleaned and set in jewellery." He squeezed her hands.

"And -- what am I?" She bit her lip as she said the words. They hadn't meant to spill from her mouth from a thought in her mind.

"I don't know," he confessed, his serious expression becoming a smile.

She experienced an inner conflict between wanting to laugh at him and hit him. "You don't know?"

"I won't compare you to a rock, Sango, in fear you will take it as an insult."

He looked sheepish at the mildly annoyed expression on her face. She pulled her hands away and ran her fingers along the lines on the defaced pebble.

"Unless it was a special kind of rock with a nice --"

He stopped as a pebble narrowly missed his ear.

"Of course it wouldn't be fatter on one side --"

"Good night, houshi-sama."

The light passed over them, and he saw her lips turned up at the corners, her hands looped loosely over her bent knees --

It all disappeared as he touched her face, as though he were trying not to at the same time. His outstretched fingers barely grazed the coverings on her skin, yet, it seemed that her secondary reaction, after that look of horror, was to close her eyes.

"You're something else entirely -- the purest form of it."

And he said something else, something that she strained to hear, but was lost in the way he barely spoke the words.

She waited until he had stood, bade her goodnight, and walked across the field, before she thanked him.

In the end, this mark would heal to a disfigurement across her nose, nearly grazing her eye, a constant reminder of how much she had lived. Maybe it would come close to disappearing, perhaps it would not.

She created her own beauty.

He did find a recipient, eventually. A tiny girl, with unevenly cut hair that disrupted the line of her braid. She was alone, playing by the water. As she excitedly pulled the doll from his hands, he noticed something red on her wrist. Curious, he inquired about it.

"It was from my mother," she said quickly, not taking time to ponder an answer. "Isn't it lovely? She once told me, before she was gone, that these pearls would protect me. Do you think something like this bracelet could do that?"

He answered that maybe they could. He then asked what else it could do.

"Reflect the true beauty of the wearer?" She sounded unsure if those were the same words she had been told.

"True beauty . . . " he said afterward, in a detached manner.

"Worn alone on the skin," she supplied. "It needs nothing else, I suppose."

He looked at the doll clutched tightly in her hand, a red coral bracelet encircling her wrist.

-- For "Iggy - Essence of Angst" (with quotes!) because I am mean to myself.