I know this site has always been a bit low on my priority list, and I suppose one can assume that I'm not that much of a fanfiction writer. This is true, though; because not only do I prefer writing my own stories, but I've also got a lot of other things to worry about now. So, while I've decided to continue with this story and Multicolored Mirrors, because I've already started them and I thought it'd be nice if I finish them… because I have a really bad habit of leaving a lot of my stuff unfinished (not cool at all).
Conclusively, while I may not submit any other stories on FF (dot) net, this one will continue. Thanks to anyone who enjoyed reading my stories and thank you to all who have supported me.
Thordis Valentina
9 / 13 / 2009
When Blossoms Wilt
Thordis Valentina
Rating: M for complex themes
Genre: Action/Adventure/Supernatural
Summary: Transported to the eve of the Azuchi-Momoyama Era, a young woman finds herself forced into the final struggle between man and youkai.
Disclaimer: You know what I mean
INTRODUCTION
I'd like to apologize for the short notice and all the junk that you're about to read, but they are important (especially what you're about to read) because not only do I do answer a lot of questions that may arise in the duration of this story, but there will be the Glossary, which (if you haven't figured it out yet) is a mandatory read.
For the people who were kind enough to leave detailed reviews and add When Blossoms Wilt to their watch list, I am terribly sorry for deleting it. Also please excuse me for leaving the story on a year-and-a-half hiatus. I deleted it because I had to. If you want to know why, then read on:
I started working this story in the spring of 2007 and wrote out a few chapters before I uploaded the prologue about a week later. Unfortunately, as the chapters multiplied, I grew dissatisfied with the outcome and the direction of the story, so I deleted it in 2008 and re-uploaded it after adding in a few corrections. Since then, it had been left on a very long hiatus. Now that I've gone and re-read everything, I still couldn't find a direction for it, hence my conclusion to resubmit it again.
This, my friends, shall be the end of my vicious cycle. From hereon out, I will NOT be making anymore large-scale revisions.
SETTING
When Blossoms Wilt is my interpretation as to why youkai are no longer present in Kagome's world and the setting I chose was Japan during the eve of the Azuchi-Momoyama era (in terms of figures that should be roughly between 1557 and 1563). I can't really say that this story falls into an AU because I plan on adding a segment that's set in a parallel world. But what I know for sure is that the story takes place after the conclusion of the manga and I have decided to make several references to that.
CHARACTERS
Just as a warning to everyone, there will be a LOT of OCs and a few of them will serve as main characters (I know for sure that the antagonist will be one). I'm well aware of the audience's reaction to this, and will assure you that I've gone out of my way to balance my OCs to the best of my ability. So I hope they'll be agreeable to everyone.
In spite of this, the primary character of the story will be Sesshoumaru for various reasons. I find him a very interesting character to work with, especially after his extreme development in the manga. Takahashi had done a lot to really change him and I thought it would be fun to build up on this. My other intention was to focus on the youkai side of the story because I felt Takahashi was focusing more with humans (as Inuyasha seems to have stronger affinities with them). Given that Sesshoumaru is a youkai, I felt he was more appropriate as the main protagonist than Inuyasha, and so this is the result of my choice.
Of course, there are other reasons as to why I've appointed the primary role to Sesshoumaru and not Inuyasha, but they're hardly important enough to discuss here, so, moving on…
I think a lot of you might have already put two and two together and may be assuming that this story is a nauseous attempt at a Sesshoumaru/OC pairing, but please hear me out and give this story a try. For the most part, I have no intention on pairing him with an OC nor do I wish to insert a lot of romance in this story. I'm more interested in action, a good, long adventure and the individual's psyche than romance itself. Additionally, I'm going to admit right out that I'm not very good when it comes to writing romance, so when it does roll around, it'll be understated.
As stated earlier, Inuyasha is not a pivotal character, but he along with Shippou will serve as supporting characters and are moderately important to the plot. Kagome, Sango (and her children), Rin and Kohaku will play minor roles. Naraku, Miroku and Kaede will not be making any appearances because they've all passed away (Miroku more recently), but will only come in mentioning.
LENGTH
This is going to be a long story. I've got the general idea on what's going to happen (I already know the ending to this story, actually, but that won't be written until much later) and I've given a lot of thought about the antagonist, but I think I've come to the conclusion that this story could span over 30 to about 43 chapters not including the prologue and the epilogue. On a brighter note, however, I've already stated that this story (and "Multicolored Mirrors") will be my last, so there won't be a sequel or a continuation. – Breathes sigh of relief –
So there you have it. I think I covered most of what I wanted to tell everyone for now. Thank you to all the patient people who actually took the time to read this behemoth of an introduction and please keep your eyes peeled for anything else I might want to inform you in the future. If you have questions regarding anything, just message me and I'll answer them. Thanks and enjoy the ride.
GLOSSARY
I'll try to avoid using foreign jargons, but there are several terms that is either difficult/impossible to translate into English or necessary to set the mood of the story.
Jou: Traditional Japanese homes are often measured by the number of tatami mats covering the floor. Therefore a three-jou hut would have three tatami mats laid out on the floor.
Kimono: As most of you should know, 'kimono' is a general word used to describe traditional Japanese clothing. For men (samurais in particular), their daily choice of clothing consisted of two pieces: the 'haori' and the 'hakama' (meaning 'shirt' and 'pants' respectively), which were worn over an undergarment known as the 'nagajugan.'
Sode: The sleeves of a kimono that gradually widen to form a dipping pouch all of which differ in length. The shorter ones are known as kosode and the longer ones (worn exclusively by young unmarried women) are called furisode.
Miko: A female medium known for performing spiritual tasks including exorcism and religious rites.
Suneate: The shin guards on Japanese armor.
Wakazashi: a supplementary sword that is shorter in length than the katana, this is different from the tantō, which is a knife.
Waraji: Straw sandals worn by monks and commoners (Miroku wears these).
Zōri: Traditional Japanese shoes (they look like the modern day flip-flops)
- Prologue -
Cold water trickled in its rocky bed, its clear surface mirroring the deep, lofty cobalt sky bordering with crimson maple leaves. Tiny fish darted about in silent, blissful harmony, flicking their tails as they swam small circles under shady areas provided by a myriad of pebbles and rocks. They rested a moment in the mossy bank happily idling the day away, but suddenly scattered then darted in opposite directions, their transient peace having been rudely obliterated by the hooves of two horses clip-clopping and splashing through.
The horses ploughed through the stream, their ears flicking contentedly in the cool autumn breeze as their riders gently guided them toward a flat, vacant area surrounded by multicolored undergrowth. Here, they were halted with a gentle, "Wo!" and when the horses had come to a full stop, the riders swung their legs off their saddles and slid down on the dusty ground. They stood silently with their heads averted to a small ill-trodden path snaking up into the messy wilderness listening to forest sounds contemplative expressions on their countenances.
The first rider began knotting his reins to a sturdy branch then interrupted the quietude with a low, gravelly tone, "We go on foot from here; the horses won't be able to pass anymore." He looked to be in his mid twenties and wore his long, dark hair in a ponytail and sported an old, nasty scar running along the apples of his cheeks over his thick manly eyebrows, and disappearing into his fringes. Secured to his dusty blue hakama—which he wore tucked into a pair of suneate—his katana and wakazashi glinted in the early afternoon light.
"Are you certain we've come to the correct place, Akitami-sama?" The second rider asked, guiding his own horse and to join his companion by the tree.
Akitami frowned thoughtfully.
"To be honest, Isamu, I couldn't be certain of it myself." He plunged into thick, multicolored foliage and began hacking viciously at them with his wakazashi. Isamu followed closely, catching and pushing away stray branches snapping in his face. "But, from what I've been told as a child, there are times when the humblest of persons have the brightest shine."
"I see." Isamu muttered. He mulled over Akitami's statement as he reached out to grab the slender trunk of a young acacia, which he used to balance his thin frame on a ledge formed by two adjacent rocks. In his mind's eye he could picture the distant image of a withered woman with enigmatic, cloudy eyes. There would be a sort of unseen wisdom within the miko, he decided, and she would be the last person to seek when it came to spiritual rituals. Isamu nodded satisfactorily. With his curiosity quelled, he heaved the rest of his body over a scramble of roots and dead logs and continued his trek without further say.
x x x
When Akitami and Isamu caught a sliver of a modest dwelling camouflaged within the forest, the sun had already begun to dip closer to the horizon and their path barricaded by a large boulder protruding out over the dusty trail. They had to climb around this and with certain degree of difficulty so that by the time they managed to get to the other side, they were panting profusely and the pleasant coolness they had enjoyed earlier grew uncomfortably heavy and sticky.
Akitami stopped to wipe the perspiration off his brow with his left palm before restoring his blade to its home. In front of them, there was a hut that was built against a moderately sized niche. It consisted of an entrance blocked off with a tattered straw mat serving as the door, and no other openings except for a small opening cloaked by the thatched roof that was only identifiable by a thin waft of purplish smoke curling against the vibrant orange forest. Pushed up against the wall was a long, narrow bench and sitting upon that was a young woman wearing a rust-colored kimono under a pine haori.
Her face was youthful and a beautiful pale shade with small fleshy lips and deep grey eyes. Her hair, glistening like black satin, had been pulled back and knotted at the base of her neck to a small, tight bun. She was not precisely the person they were pursuing but there appeared to be no other person or dwelling present.
"Pardon our intrusion, miss," Akitami began, taken aback by a shock of youth, "We are currently in search for a miko known as Kameyo. We've heard that she resides somewhere near here and are a bit lost. Would you be so kind and point us in the right direction?"
"You've come to the right place, Samurai-san." The woman spoke in a deep, sagacious voice that was unlike her appearance. Isamu eyed Akitami surreptitiously; surprise had been inscribed clearly on his face. She rose from her seat and greeted Akitami and Isamu with little bow then drew the mat back and invited them in with a gentle sweep of her hand.
The two men hastily returned her bow and quickly passed into the hut. Inside, the air was hazy and smelt strongly of ashes, ink, and heavy incense. The living space was mounted about a foot off the packed dirt floor and measured two and half jou at most. On the furthest wall, facing Akitami and Isamu, stood a row of shelves filled with scrolls, brushes, books and other indiscernible items overlooking a hearth in the middle of the room bearing charred logs that glowed tangerine filling the room with a weak orange light.
Kameyo followed Akitami and Isamu, dropping the mat in place. She invited the travelers with warm words, offering them the spot closest to the hearth then removed her waraji and stepped up onto the naked floorboards. "If it is uncomfortable, please pardon the state of my home."
"We function perfectly well without luxurious commodities, miko-sama, and are most grateful for your concern." Akitami bowed again, this time less awkwardly, then removed his zōri and settled in his allocated seat. Isamu joined him with eyes (still wide and bovine) trained on Kameyo as she bustled about extracting various objects from the shelves and placing them on a pad due west, opposite to where the sun was setting.
The miko fell quiet and knelt gently. She lifted the lid of a small brass incense pot with an elegant hand, which she set down to take up a long, thin twig resting in a box near the hearth and drew her kosode back. She then jabbed one end into the reddest part in the burning logs, igniting the twig with a low flame, which she touched to the pot.
When the thin jets of ash-blue plumes rose up, the miko replaced the lid and cast the rest of the twig into the fire and settled on her heels, put her palms together in front of her chest, closed her eyes, falling into a long soundless meditation. The graceful whorls of the burning incense ascended languidly in the still air, oscillating and dancing about her head as they hovered and spread their woody scent about the small space.
x x x
Outside, the vermillion afternoon yielded to the dark night and the silence deepened until all that could be heard was the soft popping and cracking of small flames licking up against wood. The silence continued to congeal and expand and just when Akitami thought time itself had stopped, Kameyo picked up a long thin calligraphy brush. She dipped this into her inkstone and transferred it onto a long strip of paper, pressing the apex gingerly before dragging it across the emptiness, forming secretive strokes hidden in the dark shadows.
"You have a request Samurai-san," Kameyo said breaking the long silence. The world around them, however, remained rigidly still.
The strange magic swirling around him, Akitami regarded the miko with nonchalance. Despite his well-controlled expression, the glimmer of desperation was beginning to show signs within his dark irises. He could not trust himself to speak and retained his position tight-lipped. "That request cannot be fulfilled by ordinary means," Kameyo continued. Her hand had not stilled and the soft crinkling of her brush rubbing against paper mingled with the sizzling fire. "…So you came to me hoping that I can accomplish what cannot be done without divine power."
"No matter what the cost, my request must be fulfilled." The warrior had leaned forward so that he was halfway between sitting and standing. Isamu raised his eyes to Akitami and blinked owlishly, surprised at the desperation creeping into his master's tone. "Can you do it?" The miko paused and stared down at her work grey eyes trained on the shapes and lines, leaving Akitami's inquiry without a response. His voice sounded like a tiny echo rippling through a vast space.
Seconds and minutes slipped by, perhaps an hour or so, but to Akitami, it felt like days. The warrior kept his gaze on Kameyo, eagerly awaiting her answer and considered the possibility of reaching over and rousing her from her trancelike state. Still, she said nothing and he felt like an apparition slinking in the shade watching the miko set her brush on the side and gaze down upon what she had written like a cat staring into a clear pond full of goldfish. He felt so lonely and lost, so much so that he needed to speak to break the silent spell of hopelessness that he endured.
Akitami opened his mouth to say something… anything… but before he could utter even a single syllable, the miko suddenly plunged her entire arm into the floor.