This is my Tribute to Inutaisho and Izayoi.
-Skyla Ladona
Falling Snow Blossoms
Snow fell silently from a gray, indifferent sky. The young woman gazed at it, blinking snow flakes from her bright brown eyes as she sat leaning near death against an ancient tree. She no longer shivered from the burning cold. There was nothing but numbness now, her tears frozen upon her fair, pale cheeks. The sky above was no longer as clear as it once was, as though her sight were failing her ever so slowly. Numbness was a strange sensation, and she preferred it far more than the cold, painful chill of the wind. She did not even bother any more to beg for warmth from her tattered, blooded kimonos. Her eyes drooped closed. Merciful sleep would come soon . . .
Her heart fluttered. Perhaps it was dying. Every thing else in her was. She blinked, staring unfocused into the screens of snow falling about her, her heart fluttering again like a moth struggling for flight.
Somehow, something inside her wished to persevere.
Her eyes moved upwards.
A white figure towered over her, silent as the falling snow. Strapped on his broad back he carried a great sword. Silver white hair was tied back from his angular features, contrasting starkly with his raven black eyebrows. Gold amber eyes locked on hers with such overwhelming strength.
In her soul she knew him, and must have known him all her life.
"Are you Death?" she whispered frailly.
The being continued to gaze down at her, breath fogging, blown away on the breeze. In silence he crouched down, gracefully sweeping the fur from off his broad shoulders. "I should hope not, little human," he answered. He wrapped the fur around her. Strong arms encircled her body and her head soon rested against a warm, strong neck. Her eyes drifted closed. Graceful claws gently ran through her raven black hair. He smelled of moonlight, of wind.
"For you," he murmered. "I will be Life."
Little hands shook her shoulder. "O-Okasan?"
Izayoi opened her eyes and blinked, bemused, and turned to gaze at the seven year old human child by her side. His clear brown blue eyes looked at her worriedly, his black hair long, just the same color as hers.
For a moment she was confused . . . and then she knew. "Inuyasha," she said quietly. Izayoi sat up quickly from the futon and pushed the blankets aside. "I did not realize I would sleep so long," she said. She berated herself silently. She had fallen asleep on the night of no moon. She usually took a quick nap before the moon disappeared, so she could stay awake with her son for the remainder of the night. "I am sorry, Inuyasha."
Inuyasha opened his mouth to answer, but could not say anything. A strange, unknown fear filled his eyes, a confusion that made him close to tears.
On the night of no moon her half-human son not only experienced a physical transformation, but an emotional one as well. Every time he gazed down upon his small, claw-less hands, he knew what he was and wondered why.
Izayoi lit an oil lamp, smiling down at Inuyasha. Her heart welled with love . . . and pain at the same instant. "Do you know what you need?" She pinched his nose twice and his pout became a little smile. "Rice."
After making the small night meal the two of them sat beside the fire, eating rice with their fingers, throwing a grain once or twice at one other. Rice did no harm on her floors. They always picked it up later anyway.
Inuyasha grew quiet again, looking down at the floor. Izayoi watched him, studying his dark eyebrows, the beginnings of a gracefully defined jaw line. Even in human form he still resembled the magnificent demon who had been his father.
"You can tell me what troubles you," she said quietly.
He glanced at her, running a hand slowly through his blackened hair. "Why does this happen to me?" he asked softly. "Why does this happen . . . only once every few months, and not . . . not all the time. I want . . ." He looked away.
Izayoi rested a hand on his shoulder, her smile calming, her eyes soothing the confusion within him. "You can tell me, Inuyasha."
He looked back up at her, square in the eyes. "I want to look like this . . . all the time."
Izayoi's sorrow nearly made it hard to breathe, questions swirling through her mind. Had the children of the village taunted him again? She sometimes found bruises on her son, handprints he said the ground had made when he fell, or a black eye he blamed a tree for. He hid things from her so often now that she was no longer sure how often he was hurt or pained by the damning taunts of "hanyo," "mutt," "cursed seed" "cursed son of a dog." Keeping herself calm she sought for words. "Inuyasha, I'd like to know why you feel that way."
He looked at his hair, letting the strands fall through his fingers, and looked at her. His eyes were wide in his little face. "I . . . I want to be like you, Okasan."
This was the last thing she expected him to say. She tried to keep the surprise from her face. She smiled and pinched his nose again. "But you are like me. You have my nose. And the shape of my eyes." She bent over and kissed his eyelids, wrapping an arm around him to hold him close. He hugged her arm. "We have the same feet." She raised up her bare foot, the same shape as his, and wiggled her toes, making him laugh. "We both like fish, and like to take walks in the moonlight. Do not forget, we both love trees."
Inuyasha shook his head. "I know that, but . . . I want to look like you . . . not only when there is no moon . . . I . . . I want to look like my Okasan, because . . . everyone else I know looks like their Okasan."
Izayoi gazed down at her son quietly for a moment, and kissed the top of his head. "You may not look like me all the time, Inuyasha. But . . . that is because you look like someone else. A great person far greater than I'll ever be. Your father."
Inuyasha looked up in shock, surprise filling his eyes, and looked away. He had become silent again.
"Can I tell you the story?" she asked.
He nodded slowly and she wrapped her arms around him, sitting behind him. He leaned back against her, clutching to the protection of her large kimono sleeves. She smiled and looked upon the flames.
"Once, years ago, there lived a lady who was respected and well loved. She was to be married to a great lord. However, on her journey to marry him, she and her escorts were attacked . . . The battle was fierce. Her escorts were killed . . . and she was all alone, hurt, cold, abandoned, it seemed, by all the gods. She traveled, many miles in that cold, searching for shelter, a town, anything. At long last she could walk no longer.
"And then, he came. Inu no Taisho. The great demon lord of the West. He was nearly nine hundred years old. She was only fourteen. However, she felt as though she had known him forever.
"The demon lord cared for her wounds and they waited out the long cold of winter together. They lived happily, even though one of them was demon and the other human, one was ancient, and one was not even twenty. When there were thaws in the endless winter of snow they would walk together into the sunlight. She cooked, and so did he . . . even though he really was never that good. She scolded him cheerfully for walking barefoot. He teased her for combing her hair too much. Without their knowledge something bloomed between the two before the first flowers began to grow beneath the blanket of snow covering the earth.
"It was when the time came for them to depart from their winter haven, when all the snow had cleared, that they discovered they never wished to be separated from one another, even though duty told them to do so.
"She returned home . . . her heart stayed with him. Several years passed, though through it all her thoughts were with him, and his with hers. Whenever he lifted his blade in battle or walked barefoot, he heard her laugh. Whenever she saw the moon combed her hair, she heard his voice. Whenever they breathed, they thought of one another. Neither of them was unaware of the other's presence. During times when her demon lord was wounded the lady could feel his pain. In times when the lady cried the demon lord felt her sorrow. His love for her was so great he had his blacksmith forge two swords from his own fangs made only for the sake of protecting her. And when they were together, for short moments throughout those years . . . " Izayoi blushed and laughed quietly. "When they were together the heavens themselves seemed so close, so near. And, on a night, almost eight years ago, they confessed."
Inuyasha looked up at her, awed. "Confessed what?"
Izayoi smiled. She gently gripped Inuyasha's hand. "They could not live without one another. That night they became one heart."
The little boy stared up at her. "What happened to them afterwards?" he whispered.
Izayoi reached up and held a hand to her heart. Her smile of love was sad. "To this day they are still connected, still in love, still in great longing to be together once again. However . . . she made a promise to him that she must keep till the time comes that she can not longer keep it. A promise that resonates even in her own heart.
"The promise was that she must live. Live long . . ." Izayoi gently ran a hand through Inuyasha's soft hair and she kissed his head. "Together with her only son."
"Izayoi . . ."
She froze. The fireflies danced about her, flickering. A tall figure was silhouetted by their light. She held in a breath. He stepped forwards and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of his beauty. Starlight glowed in his silver hair. Gold eyes filled with power, with longing, gazed upon her.
"Anata," she whispered.
He lunged forwards and his arms were instantly about her, his lips pressed to hers in a tender, heart rendering kiss. She gripped his shoulder, tears falling from her eyes, down her cheeks, as he held her tightly. He breathed in her scent, sighing. He had missed her scent so badly. He wanted to drown in it.
The demon long of the West drew back a little to stare upon her. She opened her mouth to speak, her brown eyes filled with an intensity of love he had never seen or felt before. Her fingers ran along his face, tracing the stripes that painted his strong cheeks. "I . . ." she whispered. "I feel . . . I want . . ."
He touched a finger to her lips. "I know," he whispered. "I know . . ."
His arms, as they did those years ago, encircled her and her head rested under his strong, warm neck. She held him close, her tears warm and flowing from her bright eyes. His clawed hands that for countless times had torn through the flesh of his enemies gently stroked her long black hair. Those same hands removed her kimonos, each one. His palms smoothed down her skin, his kisses worshiping her. He removed the swords he wore, all three, and laid them upon the unyielding ground. His armor was shed, his clothing, and for the first time she saw him as he was. All beauty and power. Though he was a demon and immortal there were scars upon his skin that had never fully healed. She touched them, brushing her lips upon them all. His golden eyes blazed in the dusk. He softly tilted her head so he could kiss her sweet cherry blossom mouth deeply.
The forest trees watched in silence, the fireflies dancing about in the stillness, as a demon and woman made love in the dim starlight. And he whispered, whispered words when they had joined in the most intimate of ways. "Izayoi . . . I wish to live . . . to live together with you for a long, long time . . . And when I die . . . when we have died . . . I will find you again. Please . . . find me . . ."
His lips found hers. All about them the fireflies circled, and a premature snow fell upon the world, blossoming in the darkness of that fateful moonless night.
The End