The Retainer: Redux
Prelude – A Night of Fire, A Time of Horror
There was a palace on fire. The smell of charred wood rose against the blue sky of the deep night. The smoke drew out servants, and the servants were slain. It was not the purpose of the men who did evil's will to draw out mere servants, however. A greater prey was expected by them, and they barred the gates to the compound in anticipation for their arrival. They could not have guessed the nature of their quarry, nor the uselessness of their actions. All within the palace complex would die that night. Some of them more than once. The guards lay dead, their lady betrayed from within, nearly all of them speared in their sleep by their former compatriots, who could abide the unnatural bedfellow that their liege had kept any longer. It was a terrible necessity that she had to die, but it was not without purpose.
Of course, she was not dead yet, the lady of the palace lay in state, laboring to bring into the world her son and heir, much to the detestation of the betrayers, and as the flames crept along the wooden beams of the palace, consuming the rice-paper walls, her struggle became one of increasing futility as she was increasingly deprived of oxygen. This however, would scarcely matter, as just outside her yet to be consumed door, the last of her guardians, left by her lord husband from his own retinue, stood in place before the leader of her betrayers. "Stand aside, retainer." The words of the man were cold, calculating, and belonged to a killer of men. He held no fear in his eyes for the man before him and his own sword was levied at him steady and unerring. The retainer, who was called Akiyama Katsurou, responded by sliding into a stance of his own.
Their clash was not titanic, nor mighty, nor well remembered. Indeed, all but two people would in time come to forget this event. Akiyama's body, thrown backwards from the force of the first blow by the betrayer, far stronger than a mortal man should have been capable of, acted as a battering ram against the lady's door. The few remaining servants who had been locked in with her attempted to flee via a large set of double-doors that led outside. This was a mistake, the sudden influx of fresh air caused the fire consuming the palace to flare greatly and the roof with a groan, crashed inward. "My lord will come." The retainer, Akiyama, muttered bitterly as he spat a combination of bile and blood to the ragged floor and pushed himself up unsteadily.
"I am counting on it." The betrayer stated simply as his sword came down again, and Akiyama knew no more…
A man woke with a scream of terror. He could feel the smoke in his lungs, taste the copper of his blood in his mouth. He looked around, his eyes bleary with sleep and realized that he was for better or worse, alive. "Nightmares again, Akiyama?" A voice pierced the darkness, belonging to his lord, who was now a grown, if not young man.
"Yes, my lord." The samurai responded. He mulled over the nightmare, the same one he had had for over a century now. "I apologize for my weakness, my lord."
"Keh!" Was the only response he received as he shook the sleep from his body and sat up properly. The hard cold earth was their bed, as usual, in their often hungry, often pursued wandering. Akiyama stood after a short moment, and nodded in respect to his lord, who shrugged nonchalantly, he lifted from the ground two curved swords, one longer and the other short, a badge of his office. These swords he tucked into his wide belt. Only after having done that did he stretch his limbs and wriggle his toes and fingers, a sharp and inhuman crack arising from the knuckle bones of his long fingers. "Where to, today, my lord?" Akiyama did not press his lord often, fearing to insult him, more than incite his wrath, though he could certainly have a temper when the situation called for it.
"If I think of anything, I'll let you know." A sufficient answer, short and to the point as usual. Akiyama sighed lightly and nodded, he did not question his charge. While he was his master, Akiyama looked to the man, who was quite his junior, more as his younger brother, and much like a younger brother he looked after him with due concern, as his lord had many enemies, too many, from both sides of the world, man and… other things like them. It was a shame, really, but he supposed darkly, and to himself alone, such was the fate of not being only the second-son but also being only a half-breed. Not that he was any different in that regard…
"I shall leave you to it, my lord. If you do not object, I will take the day for myself."
"Sure." His lord was already leaving, likely off to see that lady that he was so very fond of…
Confusion and stark terror colored the man's face. He screamed out, raging against the heavens at the sight before him. Surely, this had not occurred? Yet, he could not deny. There was his lord, struck down by a single arrow, and there was his lord's lady, standing on uneven legs, teetering on the edge of utter collapse, breathing ragged and not long for the world. He could smell the heavy copper of her blood even from this distance, and he was afraid, not for his lord, though that did concern him, but for himself. The lady, however uneven, turned in his direction, with what strength she had remaining and pulled, he presumed with what remained of all her might, another arrow, one for him.
"My lady! Cease, please! Why do you do this!?" Akiyama was seldom terrified, but when someone could simply erase him from being, they earned his fear.
"Silence! You know why this must be! Your master's treason cannot be forgiven!" The venom in her voice confused him, what treason?
Akiyama did not stay to be the victim of that next arrow. He fled, as quickly as his legs would carry him, leaping and bounding, as his master often did, in a vain effort to escape the wrath of his master's lady. He felt the scorching heat of the gods-derived power of her when the arrow only barely missed him, searing through one leg of his lower garments. This arrow was accompanied by other arrows, shot by normal men, though these he dodged more easily. "Miko-sama! Why!? I do not understand!" Akiyama professed as he landed on the ground, hesitantly he thought of drawing his sword and decided against it, not wanting to provoke an already terrible misunderstanding into an even worse conflict…
The lady did not answer him, however. She had collapsed from her position of feeble strength and was clutching at a deep wound that nearly bisected her form. He could not hear the exchange she was having with the villagers, but he also was increasingly less interested, as they turned to tend their dying priestess, Akiyama Katsurou cursed fate and the gods, and his own complacency before he ran into the distance, lacking any desire to be killed for a crime he had neither committed, nor even had knowledge of…
Akiyama sat next to a tree, stewing in his own thoughts as the day drifted by him without any particular care to his existence. Humans rarely came here, and he had long since memorized their patrols. He was bemused at their incessant need to make sure his master was still where she had left him all those years ago. He lamented that was indeed the case each day as he contemplated finding the courage to finally redeem his honor and take his own life, as his calling demanded it. However, that day never came, he never seemed to find the ability to disembowel himself, even as his thumb idly caressed the hilt of his wakizashi, the ceremonial badge of his office that served for that exact purpose principally among other more practical uses. "I am sorry, my lord, for my weakness." He seethed as he said these words each day, meaning them a bit less each time he said it. At first the events beyond his control earned his anger, his absolute livid rage that he had, as his lord's staunch protector, failed in his penultimate duty. He was angry at himself, at his lord for being so foolish, and at the woman who shot at both of them. His anger eventually gave way to sorrow and he wept, quietly, away from the prying eyes of others as he did so. Then his grief faded, and it was replaced with a dull ache born of a lack of understanding.
"I will forever wonder, how it was you two were so in love with one another, and yet this tragedy was to pass, instead of another, more happy time." Akiyama lamented to the wind, though he quite liked imagining that his lord could hear him, if only so he sounded less insane in his own head that was the banality of talking to a man pinned to a tree. The samurai stood after a moment longer of consideration given to the sad state of affairs that his existence had become. He was loyal, and would be loyal unto the day that he found the courage to redeem himself, he would not wander far, he posited to himself long ago, swearing on his own spilled blood that he would, in death, do what he could not in his master's life, and thus with the exception of the humans who wandered here occasionally, none dared to cross into the forest.
He had been amused over the years as history gave way to legend in regard to what had happened that day, having been there, and being one of only two people still alive that he knew of, found it funny how the village who looked after the forest and its trapped demon within had named it after him, when they were the entire reason he was there in the first place. Well, their forefathers at least. "I will leave you now, for a time, my lord. I will return with the dawn, you have my word." He bowed reverently towards the object of his loyalty, a still figure, suspended above the roots of a grand tree, unmoving forevermore. The samurai had tried of course, to wake his lord. His hands still had spasms of pain run through them because of the grasping he'd done a decade after his lord's departure in utter frustration at his lack of waking. It had been for naught, of course.
Akiyama gave little thought to his master once he began to leave, he adjusted his swords on his wide belt and put his sandals back on. He thought for a moment, on his destination, it could never be too far, finally he shrugged, and said to himself. "Fifty years of wallowing is enough, I suppose… I shall visit the place where my life ended." His voice of course did not project those words that were in his head as he began walking with purpose towards the general direction of the village where his lord had been struck down those seasons ago.
"If nothing else," Akiyama wondered aloud, "I will endeavor to find someone with whom to have a good conversation."
Author's Notes:
Greetings, my fellows. Welcome to another telling of a story that has been told from many angles, for many years. This is a re-posting of an idea I had long ago in 2015. I am endeavoring to write something unthinkable, a realistic, balanced, OC for the InuYasha 'verse, who is a member of, but not a spotlight thief of, the InuYasha-tachi. I have not written for the fandom in a very long time, but, I love it deeply, and credit it no small part to my current love of a certain island nation's history and culture. So, if you're with me, I invite you to take part in the story of Akiyama Katsurou, Ji-Samurai and retainer to 'lord' InuYasha, as the cast, plus one, gallivant across Japan in search of the favorite macguffin of macguffins.
Chapters will grow considerably in length as I retell the story, and flesh out the characters in my way. I will do my damnedest to keep everyone as close to canon as I possibly can while taking into account the spanner I've thrown into the work. Unfortunately, this will follow the secondary canon of the anime and its movies, without which my plucky ji-samurai could not exist.
On a final note, I shall be doing extensive research into Japanese folklore and culture and do not expect to see much in the way of familiar dialogue! If you recall that this was once posted under TheAstronomicon, you would be correct, I own both accounts and have disassociated myself from the ill feelings that one gives me.
Best regards,
A Most Sovereign Lady
Post Script: I do not own InuYasha, that right goes to Takahashi Rumiko. I accrue no profit from the production of this, a simple fan-work, and do not intend for profit to be accrued. I claim ownership over nothing, excepting my own original characters.