Author's Corner
Hi there! This story is set after the events of The Final Act and bonus manga chapter, and follows my character Octavia Petridis - a girl from Greece with a mysterious set of powers and past - on her journey in 16th century Japan. Of course, this journey will include everybody's favourite canon characters, along with a bunch of other original characters. So, if you like fantasy stories and Sesshoumaru, this is hopefully the story for you!
Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha. It belongs to the extremely talented Rumiko Takahashi.
EIGHTH BLOOD
Chapter 1: Beginning
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If someone told you that one day you would find yourself flung hundreds of years in the past, where magic and ancient wonders still reigned, and frightening but fantastic creatures roamed the earth and soared high in the skies . . . you would laugh in their face.
So would anyone, if they were told it was Fate's plan for them to go on a journey to fell a great evil and master the skills of the heart and soul. And especially if one's partner happened to be a demon. Which, coincidentally, just so happened to be the case for one particular girl, who lived by the water in Cardiff and watched the days roll by with a lonely, heavy heart.
After the passing of her eighteenth birthday, Octavia Petridis was already at rock bottom.
She was cold and numb. Every day, her heart shivered and shed like a wilting rose. She tried to water it, but the vacant feeling only grew. She had tried everything. She indulged herself in the world of art and literature and took on a place at a university whilst juggling a part-time job on top of it. She didn't have many friends, but she had ambitions, interests, and a life.
And it was normal.
A normal life filled with normal things.
Hollow, but normal.
That was until she discovered that her bloodline ran a lot stranger than she'd thought, and found she was a relative to a Japanese family known as Higurashi. Octavia's ancestry was never an easy subject. Born in Greece originally, she'd been raised there until her fourth birthday, but she could recall no memories from that time. Not a single one. She had never known her parents, or if she had, she couldn't remember them. She had grown up in the system – her mother social services – and even they couldn't tell her anything new.
There were a lot of things about her family tree that was unclear.
Mostly, because she didn't seem to have one at all.
Until now, with the Higurashi family reaching out so unexpectedly.
On the plane to Tokyo, Octavia relaxed in her seat and pushed the earphones more firmly into her ears. There was a very loud man sitting next to her and she was trying to ignore him. Music poured into her ears, and she passed a glance out of the window before returning her focus to the thick book on her lap. She ran her fingers across the cream calloused paper and turned the page, thoughts pondering on the events of the last week.
"Come and see us!" Akane Higurashi had squealed down the phone in excitement. "Don't be shy, dear. We'll be glad to meet a relative. Especially one who's European. How exciting!"
Octavia turned another page and drummed her foot lightly against the seat in front, eyes flickering along the dark lines of text. The book wasn't necessarily a good one, but it was something to read, and she enjoyed reading. It helped her forget the idle wilting of her hopeless heart. She'd read stories that explored the depths of love, that challenged society, fiction, fantasy, fairy tales which told of dragons and maidens waiting to be rescued, but her favourite stories were the ones with magic in them.
Magic was the one thing Octavia found more appealing than anything else.
Magic was the one thing that couldn't be explored in real life, so fiction was really the only way to experience it.
When the plane finally landed and she parted ways with the loud passenger forever, she got off and went to meet Akane Higurashi's son Sota in the pickup area.
He was a young man with dark hair and brown eyes. He smiled when he saw her coming down the escalators and waved, holding up a sign with her name on it in his other hand.
"Petridis Octavia?" he asked, and she nodded.
He extended a hand and smiled wider.
"I'm Higurashi Sota. The woman you spoke to on the phone was my mom. I think we're, like, really distant cousins or something."
She took his hand and shook it. "It's nice to meet you," she replied in Japanese, hoping her pronunciation was all right.
He took her bags and led her out to the car park. He loaded the stuff into his blue Toyota and gestured her into the passenger seat. Once they were both in, he turned on the radio and pulled out onto the expressway. Octavia rolled down the window and looked out of the window as they drove, practising reading the kanji on the road signs as they passed. Her hair got caught on the wind and blew about in untamed bronze curls.
"Tiring flight?" asked Sota.
"Sort of," she said, "I had an irritable passenger on my row. Kept giving me the stink eye."
"They're the worst. Feeling jetlagged yet?"
"Little early to tell yet, don't you think?" she said, winking at him.
He grinned. "I guess. Just making conversation."
"I know. I wasn't dissing you."
"What?" he asked, laughing.
"Oh, that translation probably wasn't right. I meant teasing."
"Yeah, that makes more sense."
"What did I say?"
"You said deciphering."
Their eyes met and she laughed too.
She turned her head to look back out of the car window. The buildings seemed to get taller and taller. Oddly, the streets didn't look too different to Cardiff's, but everything here looked cleaner. There were no chip shop throwaways or empty Wotsits packets crushed against the curbs.
When they finally got to the shrine where the Higurashis lived, Sota parked the car at the bottom of a long flight of stone steps and shut off the engine. Octavia got out and stared at the steep stairway up to the unknown. She slapped her wind-flushed cheeks and picked up her luggage. Sota offered to take the heavier bags, which she was immensely grateful for, and they made their way up the steps to the top of the shrine.
At the pinnacle sat a dusty courtyard occupied by the main house, a couple of storage sheds, and of course, the shrine itself with the large hanging bell. Octavia made her way over to the bell and dropped her bags at her feet. She pulled on the thick rope like the travel guides had told her, clapped her hands together, then bowed and stared awkwardly at the rusty old bell. The shide streamers moved slowly in the summer breeze.
"Do you know what this shrine's for?" Sota asked from behind her.
She shook her head.
"Luck. You ring the bell and pray for luck. You can make wishes too if you leave an offering."
"That's cool," she said, "I think I'm good for now, though. I'm not really sure about all the mystic stuff in real life."
"A non-believer, huh? I get it. But you can never go wrong with a simple wish."
Was there even such a thing as a simple wish?
Wishes in stories were always so complicated and of great consequence, if asked for incorrectly.
Could there really be such a thing as a simple wish?
"I wouldn't really know what to wish for," she mumbled with a shrug, lifting her bags and following him into the main house.
Once inside, they were greeted by a woman who sounded awfully like the woman Octavia had spoken to on the phone. The woman threw her arms around her and beamed. She had the same black hair as Sota, only it was shorter and curly. She smelled like baking powder and lemon zest.
"It's so lovely to finally meet you," she exclaimed, releasing her, "I'm Higurashi Akane, but you can just call me Akane-san."
"Hi. I'm Octavia, as you know already."
Akane's smile widened and she clasped her hands together. "Well, Octavia-chan. You've had a long flight so you must be hungry. How about you drop your bags off upstairs and I'll make dinner. I whip up a mean batch of Yakitori."
"That sounds great."
"Sota will show you to your room. Feel free to freshen up whenever you like. I'll give a call when dinner's ready."
"Okay, thank you."
Sota picked up the majority of her bags once more and nodded for her to take the lead. She climbed the stairs and stopped at the top, waiting for him to catch up.
"I can take some of those if you want," she offered, but he only laughed.
"You should see my girlfriend's shopping bags," he smirked, "This is nothing."
He opened a door on the right with his foot and carried the bags inside, urging her to follow. The colours inside were startling, and she blinked at the vividness of it. The walls were a bright pinkish purple, complemented by deep pink rugs and purple curtains, and the floor was the brightest mint green she had ever seen. She felt greyscale compared to it.
There was a bed against the wall, and by it on the billboard above were photographs and notes pinned there. Pictures of school kids, parties, and festivals. Akane and Sota, she recognised, but there were several people in the pictures that she hadn't seen upon arrival. An old man, a younger man who resembled Sota quite a bit – his dad, perhaps – and a girl.
She had long black hair and was wearing a sailor uniform.
"Whose room is this?" she asked, still studying the photos.
Sota put a particularly heavy bag down on the bed. "It used to be my sister Kagome's."
"Will she mind that I'm using it?"
"No. She hardly ever comes around anymore."
"How come?"
He failed to meet her gaze, and a solemn expression fell on his face.
For a minute, Octavia's heart sank with the sudden thought that Kagome Higurashi might have died, but she almost breathed a sigh of relief when Sota answered.
"She's away travelling," he said, "Hong Kong, France, Germany. She sends a postcard every now and then, but she doesn't come around much anymore."
"I see."
"So she won't mind you using her room at all. She hardly ever comes around anymore." His expression brightened again and he made his way towards the door. "I'll leave you to freshen up and I'll see you at dinner in a bit."
"Thanks. See you soon."
Octavia watched him leave with an uneasy feeling. His explanation made sense, but there was something about the way he kept repeating that one sentence which made her not entirely believe him. But what reason would he have to lie about something like that?
This wasn't some grand conspiracy.
She put her phone down on the bedside table and went to use the bathroom.
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The next morning was unbearably warm, and Octavia stirred in the bed she was sleeping in and awoke covered in sweat. White light streamed in through the blowing curtains, a morning breeze blowing in through the open window and catching the curtains, making them dance.
She got up and went to tie them when something outside in the courtyard caught her attention.
The old man from the pictures, clad in traditional shrine attire, was wandering over to a shed across the property. He walked with a surprising amount of speed in his steps for such an elderly character and ventured into the curious little building. There was a way about his quick movements that made him look rather suspicious, which intrigued her immensely.
She had always been one for mysteries.
She got up, dressed, and darted down the stairs to the courtyard. As she tried to smooth her crazy bedhead, her feet collided with something on her way down the stairs, and she nearly had a fatal fall. Steadying herself, she turned to see what she had tripped over and saw the fattest cat she had ever seen curled up on one of the steps, staring at her with lazy yellow eyes. It stretched, yawned, then crawled up the stairs, tail swishing as it did. Like it was taunting her.
"Watch where you fall asleep, you stupid cat," she muttered under her breath, then dashed out to the little shed outside.
The building was remarkably unusual. The wood was old and chipped at the edge, and there was something altogether eerie about it.
She couldn't shake the feeling it was staring at her, as insane as the thought seemed.
She shook off the feeling and balled her fists. There was a shuffling coming from inside – probably from the old man – and she was so very curious.
Curiosity killed the cat.
No, sleeping on the stairs where anyone could trip over you was more likely to kill the cat.
She opened the double doors and stepped inside the dark room. Something broke as she did and she heard a startled yelp.
The old man emerged from the shadows and stared at her with wide eyes.
"Who are you!" he shrieked, "What are you doing in here!"
She raised her hands quickly. "Don't freak out! I'm Octavia! Petridis Octavia? We're related. I came here yesterday. I didn't see you last night at dinner. Didn't Akane tell you about me? She invited me here. I'm not some stranger trying to rob you. Please don't freak out."
He seemed to calm down and regarded her with a careful expression, hand coming up to stroke his small beard.
"Ah," he said in realisation, "So, you're the Petridis girl? Your Japanese is rather applaudable."
"Yeah, um, sorry I scared you."
"Not at all! I'm the one who should be sorry! I was feeling under the weather last night, so we didn't get the chance to be formally introduced. I'm Higurashi Jirou."
He held out a hand and Octavia shook it firmly.
"I saw from the window," she explained, "I just wanted to see what you were doing, sorry that I got in your way."
"Oh, not at all! I was just clearing out some boxes in here. It's an awful mess, as you can see!"
Octavia's gaze slid behind him, and she stepped further in to investigate. There was a boarded up dry well at the centre of the room, coated with a fine layer of dust and covered with charms specifically to ward away evil. And as strange as that was, the boxes Jirou was supposedly clearing were covered in dust too, completely untouched. But unlike them, the surface of the cap over the well was covered in fingerprints. What had he been doing? And why was it so boarded up and covered in holy papers?
She reached to touch the lid when his hand shot out to stop her.
"Now, now," he coughed awkwardly, "How about we go back inside? You're not supposed to be in here, girl. I'm not even supposed to be."
"Why not?"
He gave no answer, just shooed her out and closed the double doors before making his way back to the house.
Octavia stood outside the shed, blinking in confusion. Her gaze shifted back to the closed doors, and after passing a glance to see if the old man was out of sight, she turned and re-opened them. She crept back inside and closed them behind her, a gleam appearing in her eyes. A thrill coursed throughout her body, and she was loving it. Slowly, she walked over to the boarded up well and put her hands on the dusty wood. She reached under and pulled the cover away, placing it down on the floor and staring down into the abyss below. The stone walls were broken, worn, and weeds were sprouting from between the gaps. A strong musky smell of dirt rose from the pit.
Something deep in the well was pulling, calling her to come, come.
Her fingers reached down unconsciously, and her wilting heart hammered furiously.
Thump! Thump!
Come.
Come where?
"What are you doing now, girl?"
Jirou harsh call snapped the trance she was in and she pulled in her hand to turned to face him, feeling guilty.
His arms were folded and he was frowning.
"Sorry," she mumbled, embarrassed at being caught. "I thought I dropped something."
He shook his head in disappointment and gestured for her to get out.
Come.
She followed him back out and into the house, and tried to push all thoughts of the strange well and its pull out of her head. Only to no avail. Everything she did would lead back to the nagging feeling she felt, and it was becoming pretty frustrating.
With a huff of annoyance, she got out her paints.
She laid a canvas down on the courtyard and poured out her brushes to get to work. Visitors to the shrine eyed her with intrigue on their way to ring the bell. Akane offered her a table and chair, but she politely declined. Sota brought her hourly glasses of iced tea, which she thanked him for, though she sensed he was using the gesture as an excuse to see what she was painting. The Higurashis seemed weirdly eager to see the finished product, causing her suspicions to grow more.
She was only painting a dusty old well, after all.
Why she was so entranced by it, she didn't know, but her hand wouldn't stop painting. The colours bled into one another with every firm stroke of the brush, until suddenly, browns became blues and greys became greens. The pit of the well seemed to surge to life, bursting with sparks and ghostly flames from another dimension.
The Higurashis seemed extra interested then.
Painting it took her all day and when she was finished, the picture didn't really resemble the eerie and faceless well that seemed to be lying dormant and waiting for something. In the picture, it was almost alive. Living, breathing, and beckoning.
"Oh my gods," Sota whispered when he saw it, and Akane shared a terse, peculiar look with Jirou.
Octavia didn't dare ask why they were so freaked out.
She left it in the porchway to dry and climbed into bed. She had hoped to finish a few more chapters of the book she was reading, but it was already way past sundown. Jirou was going to show her the family records early tomorrow, and despite the jet lag, she didn't want to oversleep. So, ignoring the throbbing feeling deep inside her, she pulled up the covers and closed her eyes, giving herself to sleep.
Come, it called, and she fell.
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When Octavia stirred, it still was the dead of the night and there were no sounds apart from the cicadas and the faint buzz of late-night traffic.
Something had pulled her out of the realm of sleep.
Wake up.
A noise outside drew her attention – like the popping of a wine bottle cork – and she sat up and went to the window. Pulling back the purple curtains, her eyes fell on the shed across the yard, and her eyes widened at the sight of what she saw. The tiny shack was lit up like a beacon, bright light shining through the paper windows. The light was so bright she was surprised it hadn't woken anyone else in the house. What was the source of the light? And why did it feel so strong?
Not bothering to change out of her nightie, she tiptoed down the stairs quietly and stuffed her feet into her boots. She opened the front door with a quiet clink! and snuck out into the courtyard, closing it behind her. The night air was cool on her face and blew through her knotted hair. Wishing she had put on a coat, she jogged across the yard to the brightly glowing shed and closed her eyes with the intensity she felt upon reaching it.
She reached out and pulled open the doors carefully . . . then the light went out.
The inside of the shed was as dim as ever. Shadows lined the walls and objects inside, and Octavia was sure she must have just imagined the otherworldly light. There had to be a rational explanation. Maybe there was an automatic light somewhere and a fox had triggered it? Or maybe it had simply been her imagination. Yes, that was probably it.
But then she felt it.
A cold draft tickled her feet.
Goosebumps sprouted all across her flesh and she tucked her hair behind her ears.
She walked in through the double doors.
The space was silent, and somehow colder inside than out, making her rub her hands up and down her arms. Her feet took her to the well at the centre of the room, and she thought of the painting she'd done of it. The real thing lacked the vibrant sparks and flames the one in her painting had, and looked completely ordinary. Just an old dry well, covered in dust. The charms and sutras plastered everywhere said something else, however. The lid was on the floor as if it had been thrown with some considerable force.
The well was utterly silent, but something was speaking to her from within.
Come, the something hissed.
She put her hands down on the edge and stared into it, almost hypnotised. Blackness greeted her yet again, but something was different this time. Things were always different in the dark. Something shifted in the pit, and her skin prickled dangerously.
"What are you?" she whispered.
Of course, she wasn't expecting an answer from an inanimate object, but it was an answer she got.
The pit swirled and distorted. Octavia's legs wobbled and she tipped forward, dragged by some unseen force, and light flared from the bottom. Sparks spat and exploded and the walls of the old well seemed to inflate, stretching out like a glowing sea. Shock took hold of her bones and she tumbled forward over the lip and into the rabbit hole. Instead of hitting the bottom and breaking her legs, she kept falling. She didn't know how long she was falling for. There were no seconds where she was, or minutes, or hours. It could have been days. All she knew was that she was falling.
She wasn't sure if she would ever hit the bottom.
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Author's Corner
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