Disclaimer: This piece is based on 'Inuyasha', owned by Rumiko Takahashi. No copyright infringement intended or implied.

Ghosts From the Past

I've always had these dreams. In one dream, I am being held in strong arms. I dream of a man's face looking down at me, wet with tears, whose eyes are odd. His hair is white, but tinged crimson by the setting sun. He cries out in grief, and kisses me ...

In another dream--far mistier in details--I am shooting arrows in the dark. As each arrow is released, it blazes with light. Why do I dream that? Arrows do not blaze. Mine certainly do not. My arrows do not strike monsters and shatter them into nothing. My arrows strike only the center of my practice targets.

I am Mayumi, daughter of a samurai, living during the Tokugawa Shogunate. Like my father, I follow the bushido. He would not allow that I be taught kendo. But, I learned the kyudo and jujitsu. In contesting with others, I win no more than I lose in displays of the art of unarmed combat. But with the bow, I have not lost since I was ten.

I strive not to be proud of my skills. I am happy to simply improve them. But my father--forgive my writing plainly--is not immune to pride, and insists that I demonstrate my skill. Eventually, our lord, though living in Edo, learned of this, and insisted that my father and I join him, that I might set my skill against the best gathered at the court. I would have protested, but a look from father told me that he expected my obedience, and so I remained silent.

We rode towards Edo on horseback, part of the small caravan taking people and supplies from my lord's domain to his place in Edo. The first few days were beautiful, though the slow pace fretted me. I yearned to let my mare race down the road. But I controlled myself, calming myself at night with my katas and meditations with the bow.

Then the storms came, out of season. The caravan slowed, and now father began to fret, for our lord expected our arrival by a certain date. After two days of this, my father conferred with the caravan master, checking the maps, and chose that he and I should proceed separately, and by a different way.

I was granted a chance to examine the maps. The next day, as we rested our horses at a stream, I asked him why the caravan was not taking the shortest way, by the maps. He snorted. "The merchants are as superstitious as the peasants," he said. "The town on that path is said to be haunted by mononoke."

I said nothing. Father found all tales of spirits and youkai to be superstition. My mother did not agree, though she remained silent. Perhaps because of her older sister, who had served some years as a miko. I might prefer to believe as my father, except for one incident ... one spring day, six years old, I sneaked out to a meadow to pick flowers. There was another little girl picking flowers--or, I thought it was a girl. I called to her. She looked up, cried out in fear--

And I saw a fox running through the grass, a fox that seemed surrounded by a faint blue mist.

One of Inari's messengers. Or a youkai.

We should have passed through that town by noon, and then, by pressing the horses, been to the city by nightfall. But, midmorning, my mare threw a shoe. My father was angry, but what could be done? My lovely Hoshi was too valuable, too quick and eager, to chance laming. One of us must walk. I refused to take his mount, and so father walked beside me. It was afternoon when we caught our first glimpse of the town. And my eye was caught.

It was the tree. It towered above all others, atop a hill edging the town. I knew that tree. I knew it in my dreams. I was sure I could name it, if only I could remember.

I came back to myself when father spoke sharply. I hastened to join his side, and kept my eyes strictly away from that great tree, hard though it was. We found our way to the inn, and from there, to the blacksmith. While my father spoke with the blacksmith, my will weakened, and I looked around for the tree again. I wanted to go to that tree. I wanted to touch its bark, examine its trunk, look up at its branches. I felt as if it was calling to me--

"My lady?"

I jumped and snapped my gaze back. Father was frowning at me, and the blacksmith was giving me an odd, thoughtful look. "The tree is called 'Goshinboku,' my lady."

My father gave a snort. Sacred God tree, indeed, I could imagine him thinking.

The blacksmith returned his attention to my father, giving a slight bow. "Forgive me, lord, if I was presumptuous speaking to the lady. Our town has many stories about the tree, most from before the Takogawu brought peace. There is a shrine near the tree, and the maidens who tend it will be happy to answer any questions, if the lady should desire to visit..."

Some might say my father is too indulgent towards his youngest child.

I tarried awhile--Hoshi was my horse, after all, and I must ensure her care. But, the forge was hot. I was happy to leave.

The steps up the hill, when I found them, were a series of stairs, not of one piece. I learned much later, that an earthquake some decades before had mostly leveled the town and effectively lowered it, relative to Goshinboku. Even I was panting by the time I reached the top.

I did not turn towards the shrine, though it was clearly visible. It was the tree that claimed me, that refused to let me eyes go as I walked across the grass. It was enormous, in girth and in height, and it seemed alive, as other trees did not. Coming up to it, I circled it, stopping when I saw a patch where there was no bark. It was just above head height, were I to stand on the roots. Which I did, unable to resist the urge to touch it. There was a hole in the wood. My fingers tingled as I touched it. Somehow, I should know that hole, as I knew this tree--

A hand landed on my shoulder. "Who are you and--"

I hope my jujitsu master would have been pleased with my form. I easily threw the man behind me.

I fell into a defensive stance. Though he must have been surprised, he rolled to his feet, whirling to face me, his hand going to his sword. And then, he froze.

I got my first good look. I also froze.

It was the man from my dreams. White hair, and those strange, golden, cat-like eyes. The most beautiful man I had ever seen. A man I had never met. And yet I knew him. I felt as if I could speak his name, that I surely knew it, if I could just remember.

His nose twitched, and he sniffed audibly, sounding like a dog. That's when I noticed the ears. Dog ears--white, triangular, and moving. "What--are you?" I asked, finding my voice.

His face had gone white, his eyes wide. "You can't be," he whispered. "You--who are you?"

I gave him my full name. "Mayumi," he whispered, to himself, not to me, or I might have frowned at the discourtesy. He was, I thought, shaking. "Kago--? No. Kikyo. Kikyo..."

"Who is this Kikyo?" I asked somewhat sharply. In truth, I was afraid he was going to cry. "And who are you?"

He looked away, hiding his eyes with his ragged bangs. His left hand gripped the battered hilt of his sword. I felt something shiver the air, like a pulse. "Kikyo--she was a miko, a long time ago. She--died. You--you smell like her."

"Smell?" I stared at him. "What do you mean, smell? I took a bath last night, and if I smell like anything, I smell like the horse I've been riding!"

His mouth twitched. "Ah, I--have a very good sense of smell, Ki--Mayumi-sama." My skin prickled. "I mean, umm..."

"You're not human," I said, realizing. "Those dog-ears..."

"Oh, shit." His hand flew up to his head. "Damn it. The hat--don't tell the headman I forgot again, will you? I really don't need his lectures."

The ears drooped, reminding me of father's white akita. "I won't tell," I reassured him. "You're the reason people say this town is haunted, aren't you?" I continued. "You're a mononoke."

He winced. "Hanyo, actually. I--don't--I try to avoid hurting humans, but most strangers, when they see me, they're afraid."

"I am not afraid of you, Inuyasha."

As I said his name, my world dropped out from under me. He was in front of me, almost nose to nose, except I was falling, and then he caught me. I was in his arms, just like my dreams, except I knew, then, that they weren't dreams.

They were memories. Memories of a past life, memories that should have been sealed away forever, before my soul reincarnated. I was Kikyo, and I was dying. I was happy, because I was simply an ordinary woman. Happy because the man I loved was holding me. Inuyasha. The enemy who had destroyed us, who had tried to keep us apart at the last, had failed. Inuyasha looked down at me, his golden eyes brimming.

"I couldn't save you," he whispered.

I smiled. "It didn't matter. I was happy."

His face moved closer. I knew he was going to kiss me. My eyes closed--

"Mayumi!"

My father's bellows can wake the hills.

It broke the spell. Inuyasha jerked his head back, hastily set me against the tree, then scrabbled backwards, blushing. "Uh, apologies, Mayumi-sama. I--I didn't mean to, um--"

"Don't apologize, Inuyasha-san," I said softly. "I--I've dreamed all my life of you. Except--they're not dreams. I was your Kikyo."

He paled again. "Gods," he whispered.

"Mayumi!"

Father was impatient. I stood up, brushing my clothes off. Inuyasha followed, an odd yearning in his eyes. He is so handsome, I thought. Weird ears, eyes, and hair, and all, he was still handsome.

I wanted to take him into my bed.

But--

"That's my father," I told him. "We're expected in Edo tonight--my horse threw a shoe, or we would've only stopped for a meal."

He nodded. "I have to go," I continued. "We'll be in Edo most of the summer. And when we go back home... I'll be getting married." The hanyo flinched, and looked away. I couldn't blame him. But I'd already given my word. I don't love Sabuto, but he's a fine young man, a long-time friend, and I'm fond of him. "On the way home, I'll find a way to stop here, for a while."

"And do what?" he snapped, bristling.

I hesitated, and then walked up to him, stood on tiptoe, and placed a light kiss on his mouth. "I want to learn more about the ghosts of the past," I whispered. "About this tree. About the love our past selves shared." I dropped back to my heels, still holding his gaze, and then added, "Love and marriage aren't the same, you know.

I turned and walked away, hoping he understood. I didn't know, then, what lay between us in the past, but in this life I am part of a samurai family, of which he is most definitely not. But while my loyalty and my honor belong to my family--and my future husband's family--that does not mean I cannot find love elsewhere.

I will be back.

Author's Note: The severely trimmed version of this piece (1000 words, instead of 2000) was originally posted on the Wilted Rose community on LiveJournal, in response to the prompt "Reincarnation." It was posted on January 14, 2010. It won the contest. (http: // community . livejournal . com / iy_wiltedrose/ 78466 . html # cutid1)

Also: 'kyudo' = way of the bow. 'jujitsuu' - a form of unarmed combat. 'kendo' = way of the sword. 'bushido' = way of the warrior. The Tokugawa Shogunate lasted for a bit over 2 and a half centuries, from early 1600s to the mid-1800s. This story takes place some decades after Kagome's death.