Night had fallen completely, and Kikyo had lit a fire on the altar.
The fire wasn't large. It was fed with branches from a few dead pines beside the altar. The dry wood crackled in the flames, sparks flying up and winking out one after another in the night sky.
The four of them sat around the fire.
Kikyo took several pieces of rations from her cloth bag and handed them to the other three.
The rations were made by steaming glutinous rice with medicinal herbs. They were hard and bitter, but they could quickly restore strength.
Kikyo did not eat.
She sat leaning against a stone pillar, the booklet spread across her knees, turning it page by page by the firelight.
When she reached a certain page, her hand stopped.
"Sakura."
"Mm?"
"There's a passage in the First Generation Miko's diary."
Kikyo's fingers lightly traced over that page.
"I copied it down."
She cleared her throat and read it aloud.
"He said there are no ifs in this world."
"What's done is done. What's chosen is chosen."
"No regrets."
Kikyo closed the booklet and put it back into her cloth bag.
A pine branch in the fire suddenly burst apart with a sharp crack, sparks splashing out and landing on the hem of Kikyo's robe.
She did not move. She only watched that spark slowly go out, leaving a small charred hole in the white miko garb.
"No regrets..."
Sakura softly repeated those last two words.
"The mikos of this generation are the same."
Kikyo lifted her head and looked at the sparse stars in the night sky.
"I won't regret it either."
"Regret what?"
Sakura asked.
Kikyo did not answer.
She turned her head, looking at Sakura, at Inuyasha, and at Saku.
"Your father, Chiyo."
"How much do