It came to pass that Inuyasha found himself traveling alone down a dusty country road. In many ways he welcomed this return to solitude. Although he had grown to enjoy the company of his companions, he often found himself wanting for time to reflect in solitude, and so he relished this opportunity to lose himself in his own thoughts.
As the miles trailed slowly out behind him and afternoon crept towards dusk, he became aware by and by of another figure some distance behind him. He reached out with his superior senses and examined the interloper. The rustle of garments, no more than a whisper in the wind due to the distance, was easily recognizable as the vestments of a monk, though the scent was not Miroku's. Inuyasha allowed himself a irritated sigh and, not the least bit interested in parlaying with the stranger, quickened his already brisk pace.
The rustling of the interloper's robes grew closer and closer, however, although Inuyasha could not hear the figure's breathing becoming burdened from what must have been an trying speed for even a monk. After a time he chanced a glance over his shoulder and was startled to see his pursuer just a few feet behind him.
The figure was a monk, although his robes, though obviously well-worn, were finer and more brightly adorned than those of any monk Inuyasha had encountered before. Rather than a more traditional monk's staff he carried only a walking stick, although it had been attentively carved and was lacquered to an exquisite sheen. The man had a shock of uncombed red hair which hung in unwashed strings in front of his eyes. His weak, rounded chin was stubbled and dirty and his nose was rather long and obnoxiously crooked.
Inuyasha mentally processed all this, coming quickly to the conclusion that this monk must be lost and was probably going to ask to be taken to the next village. This in mind, he prepared to put on a short burst of speed in order to put a more comfortable distance between himself and the stranger. Just then, however, the monk called to him.
"Ho there, yokai!" the monk called after him in a deep but somehow squawking voice.
Inuyasha threw the monk an icy look. Yokai, a generic term for spirit creatures and demons, while not quite rude, was not exactly complimentary either. Inuyasha gritted his teeth, realizing bitterly that the mood of the entire afternoon had been spoiled by this unsolicited escort.
"What do you want, monk?" Inuyasha practically spat.
"Just to talk, yokai," replied the monk. "Just to talk."
Inuyasha's patience, already nearing its limits, reached its breaking point at the monk's profoundly insipid statement. He bit his lip, thinking perhaps that if he could derail this conversation before it had the chance to really get going he could save himself at least some small trouble.
"Talk about what?" he growled, trying to sound as unfriendly, if not ferocious, as possible.
"About that marvelous sword." said the monk, smiling a narrow, humorless smile as he jabbed a finger at the Tetsusaiga.
The finger was tipped with a small, sharp claw. The skin around the claw was black and leathery, and as Inuyasha watched the blackness seemed to spread like a bruise up the monk's arm, dirty black feathers springing from his skin. The monk's face had twisted and reshaped itself into that of a crow, the long nose stretching and hardening into the bird's sharp beak. A pair of shimmering wings, bizarrely like those of a hummingbird, sprouted from his shoulders.
The creature fixed its glassy, unblinking gaze on Inuyasha.
"Such a marvelous sword…" the tengu hissed.
