Quick Note: I have several chapters already posted elsewhere, hence why the first upload is several chapters. 3
II
Kouga couldn't help but chuckle at the girl, amused. "No Rin, like this. Turn your wrist over, but keep your grip nice and firm." She struggled to copy the motions, quickly becoming frustrated when the sword wobbled sloppily in her fingertips. So like himself, when he was a child. She wore her emotions proudly on her sleeve. He reached out and caught her wrist lightly in his hand. He turned it over and repositioned her grip around the wooden handle, before rotating it back and forth to show her the proper movement.
"The loose wrist allows the sword to float effortlessly through the air—even if it's heavy. It is an extension of your arm, not a separate piece." He let go of her, moving to pick up his own blade.
He slashed forward before slowing slightly and rolling his wrist, showing her the fluid motion. He repeated it once more, and her eyes widened as she watched in in silent awe. Finally, holding out the sword once more, she tried to copy him. Her movements were still sloppy, the sword awkward and heavy in her hand. Rin huffed in frustration, dropping the blade unceremoniously onto the ground and crossing her arms over her chest.
Oh yes, the spitting image of him as a child. Headstrong and determined, but too stubborn for her own good. "Rin," he sighed, picking up the sword from the ground. He held it out to her expectantly and though she pouted, she took it from him. He corrected her grip once more and motioned for her to try again. This time was better. She was a fast learner.
She was only seven, but he felt that she was old enough to start learning the basics. His wife had an absolute fit when he had brought the subject up, but eventually caved. And the girl showed promise—when she wasn't letting her frustration get the best of her. She had incredible natural talent, for a human.
Still, her stance was slightly off and she lacked the arm strength to hold the blade properly out before her. But Kouga knew that these things came with time—and that was something she did not have a lot of. So, with patience, he adjusted her once again, pulling her left leg to the side. Her weight shifted slightly and she found it easier to stand.
But she frowned at him. "Kouga-san, I don't think that I can do this."
"Rin-chan, you just need practice."
"I'm not as strong as you!"
His lips twisted into the tiniest of smiles as he bent to her knee. Now he was on her level, looking into the determined brown eyes of a stubborn child. He reached forward to brush a sweaty bang from her forehead. "And how do you think that I became this strong? Did you think that I was born this way? Rin, it takes decades to gain the skill that I have. I know that you can do it."
"But I don't have decades," she said, frowning even further. His smile faltered slightly, but he watched as she contemplated his words carefully. This was when he saw his wife in her—when she thought seriously.
"And yet, we start now." He reached out for her hands once more, guiding them into the proper position. "Hold it like this, lightly. That's it." He pulled away and stood, showing her the rolling of the wrist again. She copied the movement, the attempt better this time. She did it once more, and smiled widely. Pride swelled in him as he mirrored the grin, motioning for her to repeat it.
And so she did, again and again.
"Father, you can't be serious."
Kouga winced at her tone. It was far too early in the morning to elicit the wrath of his daughter. And he wasn't even angry at her, but as he looked her up and down, he could feel the exasperation welling up in him. What happened to the sweet, compliant child that she had been? He paused at that thought, as he regarded her narrowed eyes and lips drawn tight. Okay, so she had never been compliant, but she certainly had been far easier to soothe—more so than this beast of a woman that stood before him now. He had come to fear human females and their hormones.
But he willed himself to remain unsmiling as he regarded her sternly. Rin puffed out her cheeks in response, crossing her arms over her chest in a childish motion. She was so stubborn when it came down to things—a trait that she had inherited from him, regrettably.
"Rin," he finally sighed, pressing his fingers against his forehead, tiredly. Irritation wavered in his words, but it was more at the position she was putting him in, than directed towards her. And he knew that she knew that. He also knew that she was as wild as a hellcat, and wouldn't go down without a fight. "It's not proper to be parading around in… that," he finally said, waving towards her ensemble.
At that, she scowled at him. Truth be told, it wasn't that bad. She sported a simple pair of riding trousers, a belt slipped through the loops to help them stay on her slender frame. A crisp linen shirt hung on her loosely, tucked into the waistband of the pants. Her choice of footwear was the ugliest, dirtiest pair of boots he had ever seen in his life. He immediately recognized the shirt as his, one that had gone missing months prior. He wouldn't be remotely surprised if the rest of the ensemble had also been claimed from a closet that wasn't hers.
"I'm decently covered," she scoffed.
"You know what I'm talking about."
Rin let out a long and exasperated sigh, before slipping her hands into the waistband. Grabbing the hem of her shirt, she began to yank it out and over her head, right there in the foyer. Kouga leaned forward and caught her hand quickly, growling, "Rin, what on earth are you doing?"
"Well do you want me to change or not?" she snapped, her words dramatically sarcastic. He grimaced.
"I certainly didn't mean for you to change here," he said softly, shifting to a new tactic. Fighting with her was like dancing around a tiger youkai—you needed to shower them with attention, all the while keeping them an arm's length away. "Surely you can't mean to strip to your underclothes in the front hall." It was certainly something he didn't care to see. A servant passed by, looking away as she shuffled by nervously. Rin finally let go of the hem in an exaggerated flourish.
"I can't exactly practice with Ginta in a dress," she spat.
Kouga pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. He would be patient, he would be patient, he would be patient… He knew the practicality behind her attire and any other time, he wouldn't have cared. But there were sensitive matters afoot and she certainly wasn't representing her best.
"I've been meaning to talk to you about that, actually," he said carefully. "I think that perhaps you should cut your practices to fewer a week." He braced himself for the inevitable, scathing remark, but there was none. Rin just stared back at him, admonished and somehow that was worse than her usual, callous and snarky retorts. Her lessons were her life and normally he would have never asked this of her. Normally, he would be out there with her, moving onto the next lesson because she was that good.
Ginta certainly had sported the bruises to show it.
Kouga took her hands in his gently. "Rin, what would happen if a guest were to see you wearing this?"
"Not much," she grumbled. "I'd be on my merry way."
And now she was spouting nonsense to spite him. She wasn't stupid, she knew the type of guest he was referring too—the marriageable sort. When she saw his look of disapproval, she yanked her hands from his.
Kouga wanted to apologize to her, to grab her hands back and squeeze them… but he wouldn't. He couldn't. Rin was an adult and far too old to be coddled, even if every paternal instinct he had pushed him to do the opposite. It was important that she learned responsibility, taking charge of her own future.
Even if she was taking far longer than he wanted. Far longer than he knew that she had. Humans didn't understand how short their lives were.
"Father, don't take this away from me," she finally pleaded. She never begged and he almost caved.
"I'm not," he said to her. She let out a long sigh and then dropped to the floor, leaning back against the wall. He watched her, knowing that her mother would have a fit if she walked in and saw Rin slouched there unceremoniously. But his daughter was defeated and angry— and too tired to fight it out. He moved to sit next to her, grunting at the hard wall against his old back. But he was on her level again; she was always more rational when he wasn't looking down at her.
"Rin, I don't mean to take anything away from you, least of all this. I know this is the one thing you love the most."
"Then let me keep loving it," she said. "Don't take it away. It's not like I parade around like this all of the time."
And she was right. For all her tomboyish qualities, she liked wearing kimono. Rin had a delicate and feminine side, buried underneath her rough exterior. She saved it for those that treated her with respect.
"You know that I'm not the one who really has an issue with it," Kouga finally relented, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"Mother," she deduced, wrinkling her nose.
"You might disagree with her, but her ideas aren't without merit."
Rin let out another sigh. "That's the most frustrating part, I think," she admitted quietly. "I know that I'm not the most proper woman but…" Even though she didn't finish her thought, Kouga nodded, understanding where it had been headed.
"Rin, do you want a family?" he asked.
She looked positively offended. "Of course! What woman doesn't?"
"Ah, you prove my point," he said and she cocked her head to the side, confused. "You aren't a child, Rin, you're a woman. It's time for you to have a life of your own." And if she waited much longer, it would be too late. As they sat there, he thought of how the time had flown by—it seemed as though a week ago, she had been only a teenager and before that, stumbling over learning how to hold a sword.
Youkai had such a different understanding of time.
"You're thinking…" she said, but she never finished her thought. She could easily read what was going through his mind.
Kouga reached out and grasped her hand in his, slipping his fingers between hers. It was something he had done when she was a child, because she liked how safe it felt. As silly as it was, it was something they still shared often. Grown-up things suddenly didn't seem to matter anymore, at that moment.
"It is already hard for you Rin," he finally said. "You start at such a disadvantage."
Most youkai weren't interested in a union with her, purely because she was human. It didn't matter that she had been named his heir in everything—even in title. And humans were repulsed by the idea that she had been raised by youkai, even if he was well-respected in his lands. Most thought that she had been poisoned by youkai influence and forever tainted. The few youkai that had been brave enough to court her, were far more interested in her dowry—and his personal protection that came with marrying her.
"It seems that marriage is just as tricky as politics," she finally said, and he had to smile at that. Suddenly, she turned to him. "Father, I don't want you to think that I don't appreciate—"
"Stop right there," he cut in. She moved to open her mouth again and he repeated, "Stop." Her mouth snapped shut. It wouldn't be the first time that she had tried to thank him for everything he had done for her. It was a ridiculous notion—didn't she see? Of course he cared. He loved her, and she loved him just as deeply. But for all the love that he had for her, she could be so incredibly dense.
Abruptly, she stood and turned to him, holding out her hand. Kouga took it and she yanked, pulling him up. She made a show of dusting off his shoulders, causing him to smile. "A compromise," she said. "One quick practice with Ginta, and then I'll go change. And then from now on, I'll make sure to spar before the sun comes up."
And that was when he realized that she stood eye-level with him. When had she grown so? Wasn't it just yesterday that she was wreaking havoc with… Suddenly, he felt very old. "That I can work with… if you think that you can convince Ginta to get up that early." He held out his elbow and finished with, "Here, I'll walk you to the courtyard."
Rin slipped her arm through his and they left the house, and any insecurities, behind.
"Ginta, purple suits you!"
"Ah, Kouga-san, forgive me! I—er, I hadn't thought that—"
"What, you thought I would expect less from my daughter?" he boasted proudly.
Rin watched the exchange in amusement. Her father had remained behind to watch her spar with Ginta. In case a visitor comes by, he had said. Perhaps it wouldn't be so unusual, if I was here as well. But she knew that had just been an excuse to see Ginta's sorry butt smacked back and forth. Elated by the thought, she had pushed herself more than usual. She felt pride swell within her at her father's comment, but winced slightly when she looked to Ginta—sporting a swollen eye and purple bruising around his cheek bone.
"However," her father continued, "it soon turned into something far more like a drunken bar fight." And that was when her chest deflated and she pouted. She hadn't meant to snag Ginta in the face, but he had punched her back! After that… well, things just happened. Her knuckles still stung at the memory. "Rin," he admonished, turning to her.
She stuck her nose into the air, intent on remaining flippant. "Well, it's not like I would know what a drunken bar fight looks like."
"Rin, if you honestly think that I don't know that you've been to a tavern with a certain red-headed friend of yours—"
"Not to drink!" she defended, but her father just gave her that look, and she immediately crumbled. "I might have joined a dice game, or two," she finally admitted. Her father frowned. "If you're going to be angry, be angry at him, not me!" she pouted, but she knew that it was a thin excuse.
"And when he returns home, he and I shall certainly have a talk," he agreed.
Rin snorted at that. Her father's idea of a talk, was something more like a beat down in a back alley, which made him a massive hypocrite. "Still," she cut in, trying to change the subject, "ignoring the idea of where exactly I might have learned such moves… you have to admit—I got him pretty good."
Kouga looked over Ginta, who in turn gave her a sly, amused wink. She stuck her tongue out at him. The swelling around his eye was already receding, and the purple of his bruise had faded into a sickly yellow. In a matter of moments, he would look relatively normal again.
"I suppose," her father finally admitted, even if it was very reluctant.
"Ah, Rin-chan packs quite a punch," Ginta said, tapping his cheek. "She'd be a shoe in for the army, if they would let her—" But the look that her father shot him could turn a man's blood cold in his veins. Ginta stopped halfway through the thought and then finished with, "Or not." He bent his head in submission, causing Kouga to snort lightly.
And Rin rolled her eyes. As a child, the dream of enlisting had been a real one. But as she grew older, she had come to realize that humans were most certainly not allowed. She would likely end up on the dinner plate of some youkai who didn't understand exactly who she was.
"It's not like they need me anyhow," she deflected, waving away the thought. Not thinking about it made her feel better. Telling herself that she would be useless, eased the pain.
"Well, I wouldn't say that," Ginta replied. "With recent reports—" He stopped dead once more, her father glaring at him this time around. If Ginta had been a wolf at the moment, he would be belly-up in apology.
Rin narrowed her eyes, as she regarded the two men carefully. "Reports of what, exactly?"
Ginta turned to her, eyes wide, seemingly surprised that she was questioning him. "The attacks! Humans are resisting and there have been youkai casualties. They say—"
"Ginta!" her father growled. Ginta bowed his head deep, yelping slightly. But her father's gaze softened as the flash of anger came and went. "Perhaps you should go clean up," he said. "You have blood on your arm." Rin didn't see any blood on Ginta, but she knew a dismissal when she saw one. Even so, the wolf nodded slowly, before turning and leaving them.
Her father was quiet, so she asked, "Father, is it true?"
"Yes," he sighed, knowing that it was pointless to lie.
She bit her lip in thought. There had always been tension between the humans and youkai in the Empire, but as far as she knew, the Emperor had been successful in keeping a tight leash on things. Was his grip slipping? "Youkai casualties," she repeated.
"I do believe that the reports are exaggerated," he said, but it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself. "Surely, they must be."
"You're just trying to make me feel better," she accused.
"And can you blame me?" Her father gave her a serious look. "I wasn't joking when I said that this wasn't going to be easy, or when I reminded you that you are already at a disadvantage. I wasn't speaking only of our personal matters."
"Because I'm human," she stated bluntly. No wonder her suitors as of late had been less accepting of her defect.
He sighed again. "I will not lie to you."
"How bad is it?"
"As I said, I believe the reports to be exaggerated."
She grunted at that—so he wouldn't lie to her, instead he would just dance around the issue. "Which means that you don't actually know," she concluded.
"No, I don't," he admitted, much to her surprise. He held out his elbow and she slipped her arm through it automatically. He patted her arm with his other hand lightly. Reassuringly. It was a silent plea for her to stop asking questions. Whatever the situation truly was, it made him uncomfortable, and that worried her. Her father was older and wiser than anyone that she knew, and his hesitation made her pause. "Rin-chan," he said at her frown, "stop making such a face. Everything will be alright. In the meantime… do go take a shower." His nose wrinkled.
"Father!" she squeaked, but he only smiled at her. Despite the awkwardness, she let him lead the way back to their home. He had deflected the conversation as best as he could, and his seriousness was cause for concern. She bit her lip at the thought. No, she would figure out what was going on—she'd just have to ask the right person. Her father might not be forthcoming, but she had her resources. She just had to wait until he came back home.
Until then, she would humor her father.
The metal was lighter than the other rifles, but still awkward to hold. Kohaku tested it again, and said with a frown, "It's still too heavy." He handed it back to the smith. "The women will find it hard to use."
"I fail to see why you even use women; they're useless," the smith replied. His face was tan and leathery, heavily lined with age. He wrapped the rifle delicately into a length of cloth.
"I'd love to see you try and keep my sister off the battlefield," Kohaku said with amusement.
"Your sister is insane."
"Ah, this is true." Kohaku paused. "Still, women have their uses. The fact that no one perceives them as a threat… makes them one. It's incredibly useful when the right care is taken."
"You taijiya have a death wish," the man mumbled. "You aren't planning on taking the capitol, are you?"
"The Western Fortress?" Kohaku shook his head. "Perhaps eventually, but to do so now really would be a death wish." The old man only grunted at that, moving to grab a small hammer and a length of metal. He tapped along it, testing the material. "Too long we've lived under the thumb of that dog," Kohaku continued.
"You're sounding more like your sister and less like your father," the smith warned.
"He's done nothing to help us!" Kohaku seethed. "We sit here and rot in famine, and what has he done? His youkai companions live in riches, as they tax the death out of us."
The old man clicked his tongue in disagreement. "He could have wiped us out."
Kohaku was instantly relieved he had not brought his sister along, because she would have taken his head over his words. To hear implications that the Emperor actually cared for them, would send her into a dark mood. Kohaku didn't share her views, per se, but he certainly thought that the old dog could send them more aid. Or even more work—times had been slow for working taijiya, as of late.
"Can you argue it?" the old man said. "They say that he has no desire to harm us, and we're still here. He could have easily wiped us out decades ago. Centuries ago."
"He also provides work for you," Kohaku said bitterly. "You are living with a full belly."
"Pity me," the smith groused, "doing the dirty work for the Emperor. Next time I'll turn it down."
"He's nothing but a wild mutt," Kohaku spat.
"He is ancient and he is patient. He is peaceful, as far as youkai are concerned, and he has left us alone."
"Exactly," Kohaku said. "And that is the issue." He paused, crossing his arms over his chest. "Such irony, coming from a man who makes weapons by trade."
The smith shrugged. "Be there peace or war, someone will always need steel. It's only a matter of who."
"Then you should understand that I want peace," Kohaku said. "That's the whole reason for this. I would rather ensure it now, then wait for the moment that they do wipe us out."
"You're a child," the old man muttered, "and you don't know how the world works. You wouldn't know peace if it slapped you in the face. You sister certainly doesn't comprehend it."
Kohaku was quiet for a long moment. "Everyone has their own way of doing things, taking matters into their own hands. This is all that I know." And it was. He had trained as a taijiya his entire life. He wasn't good with politics, but he had been holding a sword since he could walk. If this was the only way he could protect his people, then he would.
The old man set his little hammer down and leaning to the side, pulled out another bundle. Unwrapping the length, he revealed a different style of rifle, smaller than the last. "I've been working on this for a long time, and I feel that it might be at the point of being usable." The metal was raw and unfinished, but shaped. He held it out to Kohaku and said, "Try it."
And the boy did so, taking mock aim and checking the weight. It was far lighter than the previous one and no doubt a good choice for the women. Some were still likely to complain, but they would adjust to it with practice. Even unfinished, it was already a better choice. He handed it back gingerly. "That would do fine, I think," he said, satisfied.
The old man grunted at that. "They aren't as powerful," he admitted. "Better for close range, than far. You can't pack as much powder into them and there's a greater risk of backfire. Still, should do decent damage."
"I thank you, and I'm sure that the Lady would as well."
Another grunt. "I'm sure she does," he said, not one bit convinced. He stowed the rifle away, and picked up the hammer and another piece of steel. "You know," he continued as he worked, "some say that you've never even seen the Lady."
"I don't need to see someone to accept their help," Kohaku snapped, but he deflated a bit when he saw the old man's raised brow. So maybe it wasn't the smartest course of action, but they were that desperate. The Lady had come forth and offered her funds, and the village elder had met with her personally. At this point, he was mostly following orders to trust and obey. "Who cares?" he added, "She fights for our cause. If she's willing to supply the Resistance, I'll happily accept it."
"You'll put yourself in an early grave, boy," the smith warned.
"I'm already fated for that," Kohaku replied. Taijiya didn't live long and often died young.
"And your sister? She's okay with all of this?"
At that, Kohaku paused. "Sango-chan has her own ideas on how to run the resistance."
"Sounds tricky, to risk her wrath." Not an exaggeration.
"We cannot afford these rifles on our own," Kohaku said. "Sango-chan knows this. She's warier, but she knows when to accept help." He paused. "Why do you even care? You get paid one way or another."
"I'm old enough to know when to let sleeping dogs lay," the old man replied. "I don't care much what you use them for, but don't say that I didn't warn you." He paused. "What is your next move, anyhow?"
At that, Kohaku smiled wide and mischievously. "This time, we attack them head on."
Notes: When I first started writing this story, I didn't like my characterization of Kohaku. I knew that I wanted him as an opposing force, but I also didn't want him to be a villain, because I really don't think that it suits his character. It's hard creating an antagonist that is likable and believable, and I honestly want you guys to like Kohaku- if only in the understanding that he does things because he thinks that it is what is right. This about his situation- he was raised to hunt youkai, but taught by his father to be respectful (as he was with Kouga-san). Kohaku doesn't hate the youkai, but he thinks that the Empire under control of Inutaisho-san, is oppressive towards humans, even if it isn't the intent of the Emperor.
He's very much of the opinion that perhaps Inutaisho-san isn't a bad man, but he isn't the right man to rule. But who is? Kohaku hasn't thought that far ahead and that is a huge flaw in his plan- something that the old smith poked fun at. He's so desperate for change, that he jumps at the first opportunity handed to him, even if it isn't entirely smart.
If my long winded notes at the end are unwanted, please let me know. I really love to describe what I put into my stories, and talk about the why's and how's.
