"…Naraku."
At the sound of that name, Kagura's expression darkened instantly. A trace of undisguised disgust flashed through her pink eyes.
But soon, she placed a hand over her chest.
Her heart beat steadily—free.
No longer controlled.
Her expression gradually softened as calm returned.
She looked at Kanna, her gaze serious.
"Kanna… did Naraku send you to find me?"
"No," Kanna replied quietly. "I came on my own."
Her voice remained flat—
yet there was unmistakable intent behind it.
"You came… by yourself?" Kagura blinked, clearly stunned.
Then, hesitantly:
"…Kanna… were you worried about me?"
Kanna didn't answer.
She simply looked at her—
but deep within her empty gaze, something faint flickered.
A trace of softness.
Kagura froze for a moment.
Then, a gentle smile slowly appeared on her lips.
"…Thank you, Kanna."
For the first time, she could clearly feel it—
That clumsy, unfamiliar concern.
And it warmed her heart.
Not far away, Kasage and Kikyo sat side by side, quietly observing the scene.
"Kagura definitely didn't expect this," Kasage murmured, a faint hint of amusement in his voice.
"Kanna's nature is 'nothingness,'" Kikyo said softly, watching the two. "She should be devoid of emotion."
She paused briefly.
"And yet… she came here on her own, just to confirm whether Kagura was alive."
Kasage nodded slightly.
"That alone proves something has changed."
His gaze rested on Kanna.
"As long as a being has a soul and awareness… emotions will eventually emerge. Humans or yokai—it makes no difference."
Then his tone shifted, becoming more serious.
"But Naraku trusts her precisely because of that emptiness."
"If he notices the change… Kanna may be in danger."
Kikyo's lips curved faintly, her eyes cold.
"Even without that, Naraku would never truly trust anyone."
Kasage nodded.
In the end—
Kanna was nothing more than a tool in Naraku's eyes.
Once she lost her usefulness…
She would be discarded without hesitation.
"I'll see her off," Kagura suddenly said, standing up.
With a casual motion, she flicked the feather from her hair.
It expanded instantly, lifting both of them into the air.
The wind rushed past as they flew.
For a while—
Silence.
Then—
"Kagura…"
Kanna's voice broke it.
"You've gained your freedom… how does it feel?"
Kagura paused.
Then—
A bright, genuine smile spread across her face.
"Freedom… means having no restraints."
Her voice was light—
yet filled with life.
"Like the wind… I can go wherever I want."
"I don't have to obey Naraku anymore. I don't have to take part in his schemes."
She pressed her hand against her chest again.
Feeling her own heartbeat.
"…I can feel that I'm alive."
"And that… feels wonderful."
"Freedom…" Kanna repeated softly.
For the first time—
A visible ripple passed through her empty gaze.
Back on the cliff, Kikyo leaned gently against Kasage, gazing at the villages below.
"Watching them… reminds me of when I used to travel with Kaede."
Her voice carried a trace of nostalgia.
"Back then, you weren't guarding the Shikon Jewel yet, right?" Kasage asked, wrapping an arm around her.
Kikyo nodded.
"I was just a wandering shrine maiden."
Her eyes softened as she remembered.
"Kaede and I relied on each other. We traveled from place to place, exorcising yokai and honing our abilities."
Her tone grew quieter.
"Then came the Shikon Jewel… Inuyasha… and Onigumo…"
Her fate had been sealed from that point on.
Kasage looked down at her.
"If you could go back… would you still choose that path?"
Kikyo fell silent.
She thought carefully.
First, she shook her head—
Then slowly nodded, a faint, helpless smile on her lips.
"…I think I would."
"Even if it meant your death?" Kasage asked.
"Yes."
Her eyes were steady.
"If I hadn't taken responsibility… the jewel might have fallen into far worse hands."
She lowered her gaze slightly.
"At least… when I died, it disappeared with me for a time."
Kasage wasn't surprised.
That answer was exactly like her.
Then—
Kikyo looked up at him.
Her eyes softened, filled with warmth.
"…But if I hadn't died back then… I wouldn't have met you."
Kasage paused—
Then laughed quietly, pulling her closer.
"That's true."
"Maybe you were just waiting for me."
He leaned down and kissed her.
Kikyo closed her eyes, gently returning the kiss.
The wind carried the scent of wildflowers around them.
For a moment—
Everything was peaceful.
Kasage held her close, a thought crossing his mind.
In her original fate…
She had been destined to walk alone.
No one would have truly saved her.
But now—
Things were different.
Kikyo, unaware of his thoughts, simply immersed herself in the warmth of the moment.
Perhaps—
Her death fifty years ago had been the beginning of this encounter.
"Wow… should I have stayed away?"
Kagura's teasing voice suddenly broke the silence.
Kikyo's face flushed instantly.
She quickly pulled away, straightening her clothes and regaining her composure—though her ears remained slightly red.
"If you knew, you should've stayed gone," Kasage said irritably.
Kagura snorted and lay back down on the grass.
"I found this place first. Why should I leave?"
"Kanna has already gone?" Kikyo asked.
"Yes," Kagura replied, her tone returning to normal. "If she stays away too long, Naraku will get suspicious."
Then—
She glanced at the two of them, curiosity lighting up her expression.
"Kikyo… can shrine maidens get married?"
"Yes, they can," Kikyo answered calmly.
"I'm a battle priestess, not a shrine attendant bound by strict vows. Marriage isn't forbidden."
She added softly,
"Besides… continuing the bloodline is also important."
Kagura blinked.
"Really? I rarely see married shrine maidens."
Kasage also listened with interest.
Kikyo explained without hesitation.
"A shrine maiden must maintain a pure heart to preserve her spiritual power."
"After marriage… emotions can become more complicated. That may weaken her abilities."
She paused briefly.
"Some yokai even exploit this, trying to make priestesses fall in love to reduce their power."
Then she glanced at Kasage.
"However… to ensure that this power is passed on…"
"Many shrine maidens eventually choose to marry."
Her voice was calm—
but carried a quiet sense of responsibility.