If I had been momentarily possessed by her to forget any other love I had ever felt, I accepted it. Acceptance could have been part of her charm, and if my mind was more at peace for it, then she could possess me a hundred times over. If she had convinced me involuntarily to see her as beautiful against the green of the maple leaves surrounding the shrine, then my definition of beautiful could bend to her will. The shrine in the heart of summer was thick with moss, the air sheltered from the sun by the leaves of the trees cool, and her ghostly hand in mine I barely detected. For some time, we lingered at the entrance to the shrine, in a moment that I was meant to experience with every sense I possessed. I heard the songs from the birds nestled in the foliage overhead, the music we would dance to without fans or bells tied to our geta shoes. The colours before me were vivid, so unreal, as if lit by the lanterns on a stage, the paper coloured to cast an extra hue. I felt the environment breathe, as the breeze traveled across my damp skin, and every hair stood on end to feel more. The abundance of life around me in that moment astounded me, as if I had never experienced being alive so heavily before.
Absently, I found the fingers of my hand less entwined with hers playing along the bottom hem of her kimono sleeve as we walked. The feeling of the silk under my weathered skin reminded me of her femininity, and though she had no notion of what fragility was, in the moment I allowed myself to feel like a worthy man at her side. I had always witnessed her in white, and the pallor of her skin rivaled it, but for my own, it was a stark contrast, as if the dormant evil in me had painted me black outwardly to mark me. She never doted on me, she never called me beautiful, and I wondered how strong any attachment to me she had really was. I could feel her fingers in me, pulling, with her every touch, and I expected it all to be her charade. How well she knew me, when her mind was inside of mine at any given instant, and if she was simply taking what she needed from me, then she was giving me what I needed in return.
We were not ordinary. "How do they see you?"
A downward cast smile, a dainty addition to her features as she looked away from my eyes, making a show of her attempt to remain outside of my mind. "In a shrine, I look the way the looker desires me to." Her glass eyes flickered, as if to tell me she was answering more than one question, waiting for me understand.
"Do I see you as you are? Or do I see you as I want to?"
"Do I look different here from how you normally see me?" Avoidance. Caution.
I studied her face, and I came to realize, I had only just begun to see her. In the mountain forest, under the cover of the darkest nights, I looked only at her skin. She was a light against the blackness, and in my mind's eyes, I couldn't detect even the curves of her form. I had no memory of what I saw of her then. If she had erased it, that was one thing. But I had been so consumed with my desires that I knew I didn't bother to look.
"You wouldn't remember, Seishin. And how I look to you today, you won't remember it tomorrow."
I remembered her eyes. The glass blue, unseeing splendor, they were always the same. As I searched the crevasses of my mind, all I could find was her familiarity. Behind my eyes, she looked the same every time I saw her, but if I couldn't remember the day before, and she was different tomorrow, I could never understand. I wondered if being lost in her world was a hinder to mine, but quickly crushed the thought. If lost in her world was the life I lived, I could wander forever.
I felt rooted to the earth as our steps approached the stairs to the shrine. I stepped upon the wood of each one gently, as if I could float to ascend them, and we knelt together. As I bowed my head, I closed my eyes to the high contrast world before me, letting the chanting of the shrine's servant to surround me in a ghostly voice with no vessle. It echoed in my head, all around me, surrounding me with an imaginary shield of gold, speaking to bind me with the creature at my side. How gentle it was, I thought, how pliable, when the past had given me such violence. For the first time, kneeling before a woman, strength was rising in me. Strength enough to understand the masculinity I carried, opposite to her, when I had spent my life beside her. Dancing would suddenly no longer be enough, when I realized I was made to uphold the dance of another.
I watched her hands, her fingers rigidly together, obedient in the way she held the wooden box of sake. The sweet scent of the alcohol permeated the atmosphere, and I was captive to the way she lifted the box to her lips. My eyes remained locked on her, as I moved her in slow motion in my mind, following her movements. It was not entrapment within her veil, I knew, it was an emotion I felt for her that I was experiencing. As quickly as I had realized that I truly saw her, I had begun to cultivate a real love for her.
I stepped into the darkness of the unfurling night ahead of her, casting my gaze behind me to catch the motion of her form. I turned to outstretch my hand toward her as she closed the distance between us, offering her a gesture of security I was well aware she didn't need. She bypassed it, curling her fingers into the closure of my kimono, her weight against me, my outstretched hand left empty and searching for her body. I felt the deep rise and fall of her chest, her exhale against my neck as her head laid heavily atop my shoulder. Under my palms, her back was small, and I felt an instinct to become her protector.
"I feel happy, Seishin. I'm finally at peace."
Peace. It was a beautiful thought. "I want to feel that as well."
The feel of her fingertips against the skin of my chest, sliding upward to my shoulders inside the folds of my kimono, commanded my attention more than her gaze did. "I can hear you. I possess you no longer, Seishin. Anything you feel now toward me is your own."
"In that case, I have a gift for you."