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RP [Malifar] Finale: The Pond of Prayers

Kokuten

The Pixel Knight
Inactive Member
ON>
Planet Yamatai, Malifar
Laketown
22:27


The moonlight bathed Malifar in a white dress of sparkling light. The coastal areas were lit ablaze with a night life, Sofitel hopped up and down with its lounges and bars, Temeridi with its late night beach goers and bonfires. The desert was a dark ocean in itself, undulating and twisting, making the outskirts an eerie place to be after dark. There was one part of town, though, that resonated with the somber grace of the moon, and returned her sad splendor with a song of its own.

Laketown, the heart of the desert jewel.

Here, the influences of Yamatai could be seen over the traditional Malifarian architecture, with many gardens and metropolitan structures catching the natural light over what streetlights lit the roads. The sounds of babbling brooks and running streams were everywhere, Laketown was an oasis, made more apparent by the palms and lush greenery that lined every man-made structure. Red bridges cut over the rivers and lakes when it was convenient, and sometimes curved around them. Walk-ways littered the whole of the city, and many of the late night workers of Malifar used them whenever more convenient than Taxis.

Rolf had an uneasy gait as he strolled down the less familiar streets, and cut through the even less familiar paths. He looked out of place, like a tourist, in his own hometown. That much wasn't unreasonable, he hadn't lived there since before the city's destruction. The same fact didn't keep him from expressing his distaste whenever he got turned around. Beautiful buildings stood where he once thought he could walk free, rivers broke up the familiar shortcuts he knew, and the occasional staring native didn't help his temper.

"Everything is all turned around," he admitted aloud, running his hands through his hair.

Once again, Rolf was out of place, but for once it wasn't a situation of his own making. "Nothin' makes sense! It's all so... neat. I swear I know where this place is."

He had said that thirty minutes ago, when he had turned down a cabby that knew exactly where he wanted to go. Unfortunately, Sora's Malifarian balked at the pricey fare of the city's newer cabbies, who drove nicer cars and had faster routes. They were royalty, sure, but Rolf seemed so principled in poverty that he shoo'd off the driver before they could bargain. That all made it worse when had promised them it would only take 'a few minutes'.

Sora offered Rolf a reassuring smile and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to check a new city map? I had to submit them to the girls before we made the flight out here," she offered. She seemed amused by her husband's insistence to lead the way.

"Daaaad, are you lost~?" Wakako whined as she wandered slightly further from her parents. Staring into every window she could find. She had been fairly good for the walk, happy to be wandering and showing off her shark tooth necklace. She had pointed out the fishmonger she scared to get the shark head as they walked by. "What's so special about this place anyways?"

The two women couldn't see the man's sullen face as one offered the forbidden and the other one taunted him. His ears twitched, a subtle sign of his frustrations, as was the tapping his finger to his goatee's spike.

"Most of tha' places I know got crashed in tha' war," explained Rolf, paused in his advance as his wife held his shoulder. "There's just one spot I wanted to see before we take off."

Sora earned a serious, tart look, "That I will find." Up raised a finger. "Wid'out a map."

The buildings had become a bit more sparse in this area of town, breaking away to more parks, and recreational fields. They seemed to draw the Malifarian's eyes, before he finally looked back to his wild child, "It's a magic place, I heard."

Sora chuckled at Rolf. "Okay, fine, we'll do it you're way," she replied without a hint of sarcasim.

Wakako circled around him, beaming, "OH I SEE! You can't find it because it's MAGIC! It must move around the city at random and only the pure of heart can find it!" She seemed accepting of the notion of a magical place that moved. She had definitely picked up her mother's hobby of reading fantasy novels when she wasn't reading military strategy.

"Eh?" came Rolf's thuggish face, "You tryin' t'say somethin' squirt? I'm plenty pure a'heart, y'Mom's proof a that!"

He leaned back, and started to playfully jab her in the stomach, "Maybe we can't find it because we brought you along. It knows you ain't washin' behind ya ears."

Wakako pouted at her father. "I do to!! And that has nothing to do with being pure of heart! There are knights and princesses and dragons! And shark spirits! This place has to be full of spirits and magic, right?" She stomped her foot for emphasis. "Sharky-kun, says so."

"That's right," grinned the cheeky man, ignoring the looks from passers-by at the odd family in the night. "Sharky oughta' know, he's a spirit now."

For the past several months, Rolf had to bend over on his knees to talk to his girl eye to eye as she grew. Now, he needed to lean back to look up at her, if not just a bit. He threw a little glance at Sora, who had been just as tall, and probably as much used to his shortness. "Y'know... There's a little story to it, actually. I don't think Sharky-kun would know, Sharks ain't too big on stories."

Rolf whirled around his daughter, and leveled his arm over her shoulder to point into the sky. A whirling collection of stars dotted the vista of Yamatai's sky, and twinkled brightly over the artificial light of the streets. "This was once tha' sight of a huge battle, giant ships flingin' fire from one end of the sky..."

He drug his finger along the speckled blanket, "... to the other. Brave knights went ta' war up there and saved their lil' world, to protect their princes and princesses. But they couldn't save everybody."

That dark, shadowed hand became a fist, "Malifar became a land of spirits. A land of tha' dead. Til' they rebuilt tha' city, the spirits walked tha' streets..." To emphasize that, he pointed to a pair of statues across the street, a mother and daughter walking side-by-side. "When they were happy with what came ta' be, they left."

At that, Rolf spun around to Wakako to face her, his impish feet just off the ground, "But there's still a place 'round 'ere where they say you can see them, them spirits."

Wakako's eyes went wide with wonder at her father's story. "Where is it?" She looked giddy as she tracked Rolf's movements. The slightly too short hem of her dress swirling around her as she moved to follow his movement.

Sora simply watched Rolf's story. It wasn't entirely false, and it kept Wakako from being impatient from not going to wherever they were talking them. "Your father was one of those knights, except, they were Black not white." She offered a bright smile, which Rolf returned with a wide grin.

"SUGOI! Where there monsters like in your paper?" Wakako asked in anticipation. Her involvement in the proof reading of his paper was 'accidental' from her telling. She had drawn her own versions of the monsters with a stylus in the margins of the data pad, suggesting that he remove the boring parts.

"All over," Rolf threw his hands up to the sky, "Some of them I fought out in the farthest reaches a'space!" Then his hand rolled a finger from one end of the street to the other, "Some I fought right here in this very street, back when it wass' some poor shmucks backyard. It was tha' battle that ended a war, a bunch of wars."

"I was one a'few black knights, fightin' for a member of your family, ya great-aunt, killin' dragons and monsters. I saw tha' beginning," a wistful tone worked in his words as he continued, "and I saw tha' end. Ya mom fought in this war, too. We all did. We all did some crazy stuff to keep this world in one piece. F'us."

He scooped up his daughter in a hug, "And f'you."

Wakako returned the hug. "She never really talks about it."

Sora fussed with her hair, "Bad memories but your father's stories are far more fun. I'm a medic so... he got to do more fun stuff than I did." It was only a partial lie. She still smiled and walked over to the statues to examine them as Rolf spoke. Mindful of the breeze and the hem of her own skirt, she ensured the wind didn't catch it.

Wakako was less mindful and the wind flipped her skirt up for a moment, blissfully unphased by it. Her father pinched the hem and pulled it down, growling a little grumble of the females in his family. At that he clapped his hands, and tucked them at his sides.

"Don't let her fool ya, people like ya Mom are tha' reason people like me can come home an' tell stories," He pushed this for emphasis, pressing Wakako's nose like a button, "Never hassle a Doc, or ya might figure out the hard way that..."

Rolf stole a glance over to Sora as she occupied herself at the statue, he whispered, "...that they're a fuckin' badass."

The two depicted were Asahina Fuji and Ryuko a mother and daughter, they smiled happily to eachother as they walked. Below their names on the placard at the base was the name of the donor, Joto-Heisho Asahina Sukeyuki of the 1st Fleet. According the placard, the Asahina home used to stand where they stood, as well as a few other homes honored on a list of names near them.

Sora hadn't the time to appreciate the somber detail to much further as she felt her husband's burly arms scoop her up from behind. Her efforts to keep her skirt tame were lost as he picked her up like a prize catch and heaved her over his shoulder. "That's why I got me this one right 'ere!" declared Rolf, mostly to Wakako. "More fire in 'ere than a flamethrower! Don't let them pretty green eyes fool ya, you've got'm too!"

Sora laughed as she playfully struggled. "You brute," she teased. "Which way are we headed? The nights still young." She stared at the shape of his back under her light shirt from her position over his shoulder. She shook her head and tried to not throw him off balance by thrashing around too much. Eventually she poked his side. "Put me down," she laughed.

Wakako rolled her eyes at her parents' affection for one another, making a face. "Always in public," she grumbled, as she huffed, crossing her arms in front of her. "I want to see this special place where the spirits gather!" She saw a small flickering light in the distance and started to chase after it. "I see a wisp!"

The light that bounced and swirled, bobbed away as the rambunctious Neko got close. In one moment, the light would burn a bright orange and then die out, then in another moment, it would light up again further away. What she chased, the 'Wisp', lead her down a flight of stairs, away from her affectionate parents. She had broken off the street, and into one of the park areas, where a stream coursed a vein of water into a vale of trees.

Wakako's wisp disapeared for a moment, and then reappeared in front of her, flapping wings. Her mystical being was a firefly, buzzing quietly in the night. Around her were several, bringing the stars down around her in little, blinking glows. They all hovered about in the warm air, blinking in and out. Her own lightning bug escaped her, following a flowing procession down the stream into the shadowy vale ahead of her. At a distance, she could make out a larger light burning at what seemed to be the end of their path, but it was too far away to make out.

Wakako had never seen a firefly in Kyoto, it simply hadn't been the season for the insects to flit about in the city. These little glowing lights had become her manifestation of the wisps that led travellers to magical places and sometimes to their deathes. She watched the procession of dim light with childish wonder. She had to know where they were going and what the larger light was. "I'm going to find the magic place! The wisps are showing me!" She broadcast to her parents as she wandered along the stream towards the vale.

The trees darkened her path, before they opened to a wide pool, borded by a thick wall of trees. A small dirt path ran the way around the shallow body of water, and it looked well-traveled and well visited. The fire-flies seemed to congregate of the reflective surface, mixing their orange glows with the pure white of the moon. At the center of this wide area was an obelisk, draped in shimenawa ropes and decorated with fish-hooks. Each hook seemed to have a piece of paper billowing off of it.

At the center of the obelisk, burned a defiant little fire, that cared little for the wind, water, or fuelless stone. As Wakako neared the edge of the water, the stone's indentions glowed, and what greeted her seemed to be one of the spirits her father spoke of.

"Greetings," came the voice first, quiet and respectful. The stone had projected a woman, dressed in the attire of a priestess; her image lit up the pool around her, but made no ripple or wave as she stood in the water. "Have you come to pay your respects?"

The altar was a thing out of those fairy tale books. Wakako's pace slowed as she approached the stone. "Yes, the wisps showed me the way." She nodded as her foot touched the glowing stones. "What is this place?" Her voice became reverant as she drew closer.

The projected priestess gave a curious look at the mention of wisps. With how she looked at the young Ketsurui, she seemed to have questions, but kept her duty in mind.

"This place is the Pond of Prayers," answered the priestess, holding her hands out to the lake as whole, with its single obelisk. "It is where people come to pray for their ancestors and the departed who perished in the Battle of Yamatai. I am the attendant of this place, and I offer services for those who wish to seek comfort in regarding those who came before them, and those who left them behind."

The tied length of her hair resisted the wind, but not the tilt of her head in a respectful bow, "Would you like to see friends or family? Or would you wish to be left in peace?"

Wakako stepped closer, her eyes full of questions. "..family. My grandparents, my aunts and uncles... I never knew them. Dad never talks about them, if you.. have the Westwoods in there, I would like to know them." Her voice was soft, her feral expression calmed at a chance to learn a little more about her Yamataian ancestry.

"Miko-san.. Onegai." The young neko bowed politely and formally in her request. The projection smiled, apparently pleased with the young princess' manners. She nodded her head in return, closing her eyes.

"The Westwoods..." the miko had paused to 'think', querying an internal database. "There is only one family with that name."

Sparkling to life came the image of a man who was near the spitting likeness of Wakako's father. He was taller, broader, and meaner looking; a Nepleslian by any other word. The sharper features of a Yamataian were lost on him, and that brusque gaze lacked much of the cunning that she found familiar. Yet, there was a greater warmth in the eyes, and a more friendly candor in how he held himself.

"Blaze Veruk Westwood," introduced the shrine-maiden, a bit cautious at that moment, "Does this man resemble your father?"

Her eyes got larger as she stared at the image. "That's my pa'pa?" Wakako moved closer to the image, reaching out to touch the image and stopping short. "Hai.. yes, he looks like my father," she intoned softly. She looked at the image for a long moment, growing silent again, making sure to commit the man's features to her memory. "His name was Blaze?" she tilted her head to one side not moving her gaze from the image.

"How did he pass from this life?"

The priestess furrowed her brow at that, perhaps not prepared for such a question. She paced silently in the water, nary disturbing the pond as she reached to touch the obelisk.

"In YE14, he was killed in a pirate attack on his cargo freighter. According to police reports, the crew surviving included his son and two Geshrin men, recovered by authorities in the wake of the incident. Westwood-san had stayed behind to ensure that the pirates would not give chase." at that, she removed her hand, eying Wakako carefully, "He is not a victim of the Battle of Yamatai, but his memory was preserved here alongside his wife and daughter in this database."

She smiled despite the sorrow in her eyes. "He was a hero too then.. what did my grandma and my aunt look like?" Wakako touched the shark tooth necklace around her neck reverently as she waited. She wondered why her father had never mentioned this to her. Her grandfather fought pirates! And he sacrificed himself for them. It was big. It was big like her grandma Sharie dying in the war but different because Blaze was fighting that battle alone.

As requested, two other figures split apart the darkness that rested of the hallowed site. On one side of Blaze was a woman, a bit older, a bit thin, but very sharp. She had all her father's cunning features, and seemed to look much more like the natives she had come to meet in her time in the city. The woman was not boisterous or flamboyant like the man next to her, but rather possessed a firm demeanour.

The difference, the noticable difference, was that she was older. She appeared tired, but a small smile cut away the weariness.

"Iceni Lene Westwood, she is the mother of the Westwood family."

On the other end was someone a bit more familiar, or rather, wearing something more familiar. She was shorter than the parents, and bedecked in the uniform of a Star Army soldier. She had a thuggish little stare than almost mirrored Wakako's, but she held herself more like her mother. Despite what questions there could be about her character, she was remembered and imaged in a respectful, military stance.

"Nito-Heisho Oshiana Veruk Westwood, she is the daughter of the Westwood family."

Wakako moved from one figure to the next, amazed by the faces staring back at her. She wanted to hug them. Her unknown family. Her eyes teared up and she sniffed. "Thank you. I've wanted to know them... Iceni and Oshiana... it was the Battle of Yamatai?"

"Iceni Westwood reportedly died in the wake of the attack, she is one of the many people of this city who perished in the bombardments and falling debris." The projected maiden showed her reverence even as she walked, her hand wafting gently in the direction of the woman that was Wakako's grandmother. "She, and many others were the reason for this monument, as much of their remains could not be recovered."

At that, she paced around, to the Star Army soldier on the other end, "Westwood-Heisho fought in the Battle overhead in what was her final skirmish. According to records, she served aboard the YSS Kinugasa, which diverted to stop a NMX cruiser from crashing into Malifar, destroying it wholly. The remains of this vessel can be found off the coast of Temeridi, in the shoal of the coast."

She remembered the name of the ship they had seen when they had gone shark hunting. Tears rolled down her cheeks as the realization set in, that was her aunt's ship. She had been there. She had died there to protect Yamatai so close to home but would never see it again. Wakako knelt down in front of the figures, the water soaking her dress as she sank into the pond, staring up at them amongst the dancing light of the memorial and the flickering wisplights. "He never told me. I don't understand, why?"

Wakako didn't get an immediate answer, the miko could only frown at what seemed to be insufficient data. She pulled away, as if to think, but her attention pulled towards the edge of the pond just as she moved. The young Neko could hear it, footfalls on the path that she had walked to come here.

"Wah," came a familiar, amazed voice, "she wasn't kiddin' about the wisps."

Wakako turned to look at the voice, the moisture on her face sparkling in the light. "Why didn't you tell me?" She rose to her feet, not leaving her place in front of her lost relatives. "Doshite?" Her hands were balled at her sides as she faced her father.

She had caught Rolf off guard with her words. Caught where he stood, he looked over to Sora, before taking the time to see what laid out in front of him. There stood his past, situated neatly behind his future.

Sora saw the tears on her daughter's face and absorbed the moment. Their daughter had found her ghosts, more specifically, Rolf's. Her expression was gentle as she nudged Rolf forward. "Well, there they are. She found them, go on, tell her how they lived."

Wakako was silent and expectant as she squared her tearful stance towards her father. She looked like she was going to try to fight him.

Crack. The sound of Rolf's neck popping as he rolled his head one way and then the other were audible, perhaps even to the glowing miko. This had been a moment that he had been readily running away from for a great deal of his recent life, since he had awakened on the Miharu.

"I nevah told ya, because I never had the courage to look back," reasoned Rolf, throwing a hand in the direction of the three people he survived. His lip curled in as he saw their eyes, perhaps not even ready for that.

From Sora, he strode to his daughter, keeping aware of her determined posture. He kicked off his sandals as he stepped into the pond with her. "I've lived a long time, sweetie. I'm a lot older than ya Mom, and I'm a heckuvalot older than you. So... when you see as much as I do, do as much as I did, sometimes you just get comfortable burying all the sad parts."

The expression on his face twisted as he looked at her, a small reflection of his family in her face. He grinned that cocky little smile, and it pinched the tears out of his eyes, "Then ya just never look back, no matter how much you want to remember."

Wakako closed the distance between them and lightly punched her father on his shoulder. "Baka." She leaned against him, crying. "That was Aunt Oshiana's ship down there. Why wouldn't you tell me?" Her voice was distressed and shaking. "Or that Grandpa died fighting pirates, alone?"

Her father took the tap in stride, staring above her at the three people gone in his life. He wasn't sure at this point why it was still so hard to see them. Wakako could feel her dad draw her in, hugging her tightly.

"I wasn't ready," said Rolf, closing his eyes, struggling with himself, "I got to relive my dad's memory in a pretty bad way, and my sister and mom were gone when I finally came home from tha' war. I lost so much that I chose t'forget and push forward, 'cause it was too painful to face those memories alone. I never had the gumption to come here, until now. I wanted to face it today, with you and your Mom."

He held her a little tighter, giving a little chuckle, "I didn't expect you t'beat me to it, eh heh heh..."

Wakako wrapped her arms around her father and buried her face in his chest, still crying.

Sora crossed the distance and hugged the both of them, kissing Wakako on the top of her head and Rolf on his cheek. "All memories that lead to painful places aren't neccessarily bad ones. I know I tend to get wrapped up but it's because I don't want to forget what I'm fighting, what I'm living for. It's okay to revisit the past with your sights set firmly on the future." Her voice was ever gentle and reassuring.

"As long as we remember, they aren't gone. It's why these places are so important, so that the ones we love will live on even if we..." Sora's voice trailed off and held her family a little more tightly.

"Heh heh," harrowed Rolf, drowning in the comfort of his loved ones, "We'll never die, we're invincible."

The Malifarian couldn't help himself, but he was still blinking away the tears as the three of them stayed close. He tugged out an arm to wrap around his wife, holding her as he did his daughter. The family was quite the sight, a mother, a father, and daughter together across a mother, a father, and daugther departed. Rolf looked toward his own mother and father, feeling a small bond to them with what he shared with Wakako and Sora.

"Mom woulda' loved the both of ya," smiled Rolf, wiping his eyes, "but she'd probably end up chasin' you," He shook Wakako for emphasis, "wit' a wooden spoon a couple times, knowin' you."

Wakako sniffed and looked up at Rolf, confused by the wooden spoon comment. "Wooden spoon? What do you mean?" She blinked, her expression shifting to curiousity again with the notion of being chased with a spoon. "Seems silly to chase with a spoon when there are swords.."

"Wough! Watch out," warned Rolf, ducking his head as if he expected a kitchen utensil to come his way. "You might think it ain't that bad 'til it gets ya right 'ere, and ya realize... ya can't puncha ya mom. Then dat wooden spoon turns into a sword."

With a thumb, he wiped away his daughter's tears, feeling uplifted between the two women. A couple of his happier memories came back at that, though, part of it may have been trauma. "I'd come home from school wit' bruises and she'd come swingin'! I couldn't do anythin'! At one point, I stopped goin' into tha' kitchen! 'Cause she'd have reasons t'whack me loaded up an' ready!"

Wakako laughed at the idea of a spoon becoming a sword. "But I spar with you and mom all the time? Why would Grandma beat you up?"

Sora leaned against Rolf, content to see both of their moods shift. "It's different. Other families don't train like we do."

"Yeah, believe or not, ya granma didn't like it when I got in fights," clarified Rolf.

"She looks like a warrior!" Wakako's gaze went back to the image of her grandmother again. "She didn't like fights? Why not?" The concept was truly foreign to the youngling. Combat training was a consistent part of her daily routine.

"Heh heh, believe or not, but ya gramma' wasn't a warrior, she was a shippin' consultant. Wanted tha' whole family t'grow up and take up tha' shippin' trades like her family before her. Me an' sis, ya aunt, were supposed t'go t'school, be good students and grow up bein' borin' paper pusha's."

The man cackled, pointing at Wakako's aunt, her projection still sparkling in the light, "As ya can tell, it didn't work too well, and ya gramma ended up raisin' a couple a asskicka's."

He gave a Sora a sidelong look, "She'd woulda' liked tha' fact dat' at least you had a safe job. Safish?"

Sora shook her head. "Nooo, I died during the first 3 months with Hanako-Taisa, I was almost killed two other times, once with Hanako-Taisa and then once just going with Kotori-san but that was a few years later. The concept of my job is safe, I went on too many away missions for it to ever be that way, though." She smiled despite herself. "I suppose staying at the War College has been incredibly safe except for finding a stray Imp in a fruit grove."

Rolf gave his wife a knowing grin, her little reference probably going over their daughter's head. His impish ears twittered, "Yeah, best thing dat eva happ--..."

"Waaaaa," uttered Wakako, her eyes sparkling at her mother, the amount she was learning of her warrior-family being overwhelming, "You served with Hanako-Taisa? You said you just did boring stuff!"

"Hanako-Taisa was my first captain, I mostly did routine physicals for work. But I always went on the away missions with Hanako and the others," Sora ruefully smiled, "Those were hard missions and we never made it back the way we left but... we can talk about those missions another time. For tonight, and now, let's talk about the Westwoods and how they lived." she indicated the images infront of the oblelisk. "You came pretty close to being named after your aunt and your grandmother here."

"Y'mom thought it'd be nice t'name ya afta ya aunt, 'cause she was a soldia'," carried on Rolf, letting Sora deflect some of their daughter star-lit attention. Her big green-eyes went from one parent to the other, as the revelations began to pile on. "I said 'No.', 'cause I wanted ya t'have a propa' Yamataian name so you'd mix in betta' wit the rest of the family. 'Sides, I liked Wakako, it's gotta lil' more kick than Oshiana."

"But I like Oshiana, aunt Oshiana fought the Mishhu, she was a Heisho, just like you," protested Wakako, frustration twisting her determined face into a stabbing, inquisitive glare. "What was so bad about that? Did you not like her?"

Rolf sputtered into cackling laughter, as if the answer were obvious, "Heh heah! Did I not like her?"

Wakako frowned, which curtailed her father's response.

"Ehem, I mean, y'know. You're an only child... so... Maybe ah..." Rolf fumbled in the presence of those probing green eyes, "Hun, help me out 'ere, you got a big family, you all get along?"

"We don't always agree with each other's opinions but it doesn't mean that we don't like one another. Some times, people argue for fun. I was also an only child so I really only interacted with my aunts and the crew of my ships," Sora shrugged. "I see Nepleslian families fighting in the sitcoms but they always seem to get it together for when it's important." She added not sure if that truly helped the discussion any.

"Right, the point is, Oshi an' I nevah' had that get it together moment," said Rolf, explained carefully, not sure if she would understand what they meant. Though he did know that what little T.V. his wife watch, his daughter watched with her. "Even in a small family, you can disagree about things. Sometimes it lasts for a while. Sometimes..."

The Malifarian rubbed his temple, "Sometimes ya don't get a chance to get it together."

"Does that mean I wouldn't get along with a sister, if I had one?" probed Wakako.

Rolf gave Sora a side-long stare, "Well, if the Miharu girls are any indication, maybe. Neko are just different. Oshi an' I were juss different. We didn't agree on certain things, and we disagreed enough not t'talk a lot." He sighed, "Tha' point is, I named ya Wakako. Oshi can rest on wit' Mom and Dad, wherever they go."

Wakako looked over her shoulder to the three Westwoods, still glimmering next to the patient maiden. Then she returned her attention to her parents, giving a question that muted Rolf. "Where do they go when they die?"

"It depends on who you talk to and what you believe. Some believe that our spirits move on to somewhere else. Some believe that they never truly leave us and are with us always," Sora interjected thoughtfully. "I like to think they are with us, in a sense, I never forget the ones that can never come home, the ones we've lost. But, I am the product of my mother, she will always be with me because I am her legacy, I live my life for her since she can't."

The younger Neko absorbed this, giving hints of understanding as her world opened just a little bit more. Her mother was definitely ready for the question, Rolf on the other hand, was still a bit silent as she earned his attention. For a second, he appeared to look at Sora, wondering how that wasn't enough of an explanation. It took a moment for him to realize she wanted him to speak his mind.

"Yeah," Rolf spoke, his gears spinning to reflect on how many lives he had seen and very well himself ended, "I think ya Mom has the long and short of it. Those we lose, the ones we leave behind are always wit' us." His toned shifted a bit, "But... as a soldia', you need t'know that it's not just ya friends and family you carry wit ya, but ya enemies too."

Wakako's eyes widened.

"Ya mom an' I carry a lot on our shoulders," Rolf took Sora's hand in his, another one of their overt signs of affection, "It's why sometimes we don't talk much about the past. It's also why ya gran'parents and ya aunt nevah' came up until now. The two of us resolved we wouldn't get too caught up in it, the past, and decided the future was more important. That's where you came in."

Sora smiled gently and gave her husband's hand a soft squeeze. The surface of the pond rippled as a small frog flopped into water, displacing the reflected stillness of the family as they stood together in the water beside the platform and steps. "We have to honor our past by fighting for the future. It's more important than our memories, we need to continue forward. You need to continue forward towards whatever path through life you decide to take."

Wakako stared into the water as it rippled, as if her head was weighed down by the wisdom of her parents. Her ears had folded back at this point, a thoughtful air taking over her mind. Rolf wasn't used to this kind of silence from their energetic daughter, but it showed she was taking it seriously. With a tender squeeze, he took the next step.

"You wanna' see how Malifarians pay their respects? Iss' a little different from how you folks in tha' West do it."

Their daughter looked up, the energy back in her eyes; she looked at her father, and then to her mother. She nodded.

Another glint shined from Rolf's pocket as he pulled out a gold coin which looked a little rough and hewn. It was recognizable as a popular tourist item, found in small shops throughout town. Here, they seemed to serve a different purpose, as he handed the piece to Wakako.

"Tha' gold coin represents fortune," said Rolf, pointing at the shiny bit, "When ya dead, ya can't take much with ya, so we offer a little somethin' to help the departed on their way. They ain't gettin' much help elsewhere."

The projections dissappeared, save for the miko, as Rolf pointed towards obelisk and its little flame. "Put'm by the fire, so they'll see'm, and they'll pick'm up on their way out."

Wakako stared down at the little coin in the palm of her hand, watching the way the light reflected from the bumpy gold surface, throwing sparkles of orange across the surface of her hand. "Just put it down by the fire?" She asked to confirm, lightly closing her fingers around the little token. It was something magical for the spirits to take with them. She needed to be careful with it so it didn't fall into the pond.

She stepped up onto the lighted stones of the path beside them, dampening the steps with each footstep. She paused before the little fire before obelisk, staring at Rold expectantly. "Here?"

"Right there, not too close, not to far from the fiah'," confirmed Rolf, letting Wakako do this on her own. In truth, he couldn't bring himself to come much closer than he stood. His hands shook, and his eyes sparkled a bit more in the somber light. "Remember, they gotta' reach for it when they go."

Sora held Rolf's hand, wrapping an arm around him as she watched their daughter stand before the memorial fire.

The light cast strange shadows across the youngling's face as she knelt down and placed the coin carefully just a little bit to the left of the fire's bowl. Wakako placed her fingers on top of hte rough coin and looked at the obelisk for a moment before her gaze returned to her father's face. Her emerald eyes took on a golden shine in the firelight as she rose back up to her feet and stepped away from the flame. She stood expectant of something. "What do I do now?" she asked softly.

"You'd normally say goodbye, to someone ya seein' off, but nobody wants to say it, you just think it," Rolf closed his eyes, and a couple more wet lines drew down his cheeks. "You turn around, and let'm go."

His fingers curled tightly around Sora's hand, and he began to tremble, "You let'm go and ya leave. You done all you can, all you could do. They'll pick it up, one day, and that'll show they remembered you..." The words were having trouble making their way out, "... as you remembered them."

Wakako pressed her lips together, unsure if she wanted to go. Her gaze returned to the obelisk and the miko projection that guarded the memories of the departed. "Watashi..." She reached forward and withdrew her hand again. She finally turned and walked away, returning to her parents standing in the pond. She grabbed her father's free hand and gave it a squeeze. "We have to say 'sayonara', Otousan, ne? So they can leave here?"

The Imp's cheeks puffed from a restrictive sigh, his heart quaking at the mention of this moment. He took his daughter's hand, the three of them standing in the face of the shrine. They could tell something was playing before his eyes, he seemed to search the scene in front of him as if he saw something else. Then, he closed his eyes, before smiling a woeful little grin, "Yeah. If ya say it. They can go."

"Say it with me then," Wakako suggested. She waited for them, before she started, "Sayo.."

Rolf carried it through, holding their hands tight, "Sayonara."

"..Nara." Both women leaned against Rolf, it was Sora that nudged them that it was time to turn away. Wakako waited to see if the ghosts would appear again before they left the memorial. She looked long and hard, but the spirits did not return with their projected light. The shrine priestess herself went dormant in the memorial, her own image put away for th next pilgrim. Instead, with all the dim light about the pond, something else caught her eye, or rather didn't.

The gold coin was gone.

Wakako stared in wonder and then looked to her father's face. "It's gone. They're gone." She said very softly, hugging Rolf again. Her father returned the warm embrace, unfettered and less broken than before. He threw a sidelong glance at Sora, and scooped her into another familial embrace. The light at the pond faded, and all that was left for the family there was the Moon's somber light, the same light they started the night with.

"It's just us now," he said finally, holding them tight.

Sora leaned her head against Rolf's. "Let's go home." She kissed him on the cheek.

"We have some more memories to make."
 
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