The sunset that evening was rapidly diminishing into a soft red glow onto the horizon, and the purple-blue clouds of night shot out into the sky. A few stars winked above us, and warm, evening breezes rushed past us so quickly that they lightly rustled our hair and clothes. It smelled of the sea. The last seagulls retreated to the rocks to nestle and sleep, their soft caws fading from my ear. All that I could hear was the sifting of the sand and the ocean slowly retreating. Every now and then a bright light passed over us, illuminating the crystal-like rocks embedded in the ground. Then it turned away, the vast sea sparkling in its gleam.
       We were sitting on our rock, a blanket spread with various light foods. She had cooked the pastries and I had caught the fish and we both baked the bread. We said very little, as there was not much to say. The soft seaside spoke for us. I smiled at her and quickly ran my hands through her hair. It had grown so long, nearly down to her shoulders; it glistened like the water itself when the lighthouse passed over us. She smiled back at me, her face slightly creased with the marks of aging.
       From the rock I could see the whole town. Houses seemed to have emerged from the sea coast, and warm orange lights glowed with in them. On a rock farther down the coast I saw the black and white lighthouse and then farther out in the sea I saw the small lights of various ships. Most of the town was in bed, except far down the beach I heard the clopping of a horse. My heart leapt in fear for a moment, and then I reassured myself that no one would come destroy this land again.
       I could make out three people. One man was leading the small, weary horse, with a small child of about eight years tagging along beside him. A young woman was riding regally on the horse, as if she was an empress. They carried various bags, so I figured that they were traveling through. I tried to make out their faces as they came closer, and the man leading the horse seemed very familiar to me, as if I had known him once before. His eyes were dark and very serious, and his hair, that fell down to his shoulders, was tied back. He wore a kimono and carried two swords, and I knew that he was a Samurai passing through. His wife carried a blue umbrella over her head. I noticed those same dark eyes in the little boy, and immediately my heart leapt.
       I wanted to call out his name, but he had a new family, and would probably not remember me, After all, if I had his childhood, I would not want to remember it either. Yet it was I who saved him from the picketing and cruelty of the village children and from the demons that haunted him. He seemed at peace now, and had seemed to achieve great status as a Samurai. I knew he would probably train his son, who was batting at the evening bugs with a toy wooden sword, to be an honorable warrior.
       He looked our way. I could tell by her warm blue eyes that she recognized him too. I bowed politely to him, and he bowed back and continued on. I didn't know whether he recognized me, but it was pleasing to see him at peace, with a beautiful wife and child. He had gone from a Demon Child to a noble warrior.
       I turned to her after we finished our meal, and I wrapped my arm around her. We said very little and listened to the cadence of the sea. I sighed in content, feeling her warm body next to mine, as we watched the last of the sun retreat behind the sea.
 

THE END

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