It hadn’t occurred to him until much later. That maybe Kikyou was just as fragile as he was.

Because she spent all of her time around him, he had gotten used to the one Kikyou he always saw.

The one he thought he loved.

One time was enough. It had only been one time that he saw her, more broken than he could ever remember being. It had only been once that he’d awkwardly wrapped his arms around her, pushing her into the folds of his kimono. And it had only been once that she’d spilled her heart out to him.

Only once since she cried. Once was enough. He never needed to see her broken again.