Some of my ideas changed a little, so I've done a bit of minor editing for this chapter. It's nothing major, though. The plot and character motives are relatively the same.

Thordis Valentina

4 / 19 / 11


When Blossoms Wilt

Rating: M for complex themes
Genre: Action/Adventure/Supernatural
Disclaimer: Do not own


GLOSSARY

I'll try to avoid using foreign jargons, but there are a few (in today's case, MANY) terms that either cannot be translated into English or are necessary to set the mood to the story.

Amaterasu: (Mythology) Japanese Sun Goddess and very important. She was born from Izanagi's left eye.

Furi: The long swinging section of the sode (sleeve), often used as pockets.

Hanyou: Half-youkai (though I'd be using this word as I would with "half breed")

Hinezumi: (fire-rat) the type of material used to make Inuyasha's clothes.

Hitoe: Sort of like the haori. There are further, more complicated garments from the Sengoku era, but that would sooner tire everyone so I'm just settling with hitoe and haori to make everyone's life easier.

Kami: Traditional Japanese gods

Kitsune: Fox Youkai

Kote: The gauntlets on a Japanese armor, this is connected to the tekko (hand guard), while the sode (the sleeve-like part) is detachable.

Mokomoko: The white fluff on Sesshoumaru's shoulder, nicknamed as such by fans.

Mori: Forest

Okaasan: Mother

Sashinuki: Sashinukis are special types of hakamas with a chord running through the hem. This can be drawn tight around the ankle, thusly creating that wonderful ballooning effect seen on Inuyasha's clothes.

Shoji: Traditional Japanese doors.

Sodegochi: Sleeve opening

Sokutai: Complicated garment-tops worn only by the emperor, aristocrats, and the like.

Tabi: Traditional Japanese socks with a cleft between the second and big toe, for the zori and the waraji.

Tate-eboshi: A courtesan hat, black in color and usually paired with the sokutai. It is small in relation to the head and stands tall. I believe this came out from either the Heian or the early Sengoku period.

Tori: A holy gate made of two wooden pillars joined by another wooden beam. These are often painted red and come in various sizes.

Tsukuyomi: (Mythology) Japanese Moon God, born from Izanagi's right eye. Legend has it that Amaterasu and Tsukuyomi got into a feud after he killed Uke Mochi (goddess of food) out of disgust toward the way she prepared the feast. Since then, Amaterasu couldn't stand to share the same celestial realm with Tsukuyomi.


- II -

SNOWFALL HAD QUICKENED CONSIDERABLY WHEN SESSHOUMARU RETURNED TO THE RUN-DOWN DWELLING. It also by this time that day had faded yet again and Tsukuyomi—hiding behind a thick mass of clouds—returned, repulsing Amaterasu away as he always did.

The little structure stood miles away from the grand fortress and closer to the nameless mountain upon which Kameyo could be found. Similarly to other regions of northern Honshū island, it too had been erected on fairly uneven grounds, almost completely swallowed up by bramble and nature. In front of the hut lay open air and a steep, endless slope densely coated with pines and deciduous trees tumbling down toward a narrow stream now frozen over and hidden under surmounting layers of snow falling from the heavens. There was no path leading to or from the hut, only a small crack in the dense whiteness (formed by Sesshoumaru wading through its smoothness) lying atop crumbling brown bushes standing waist-high.

Sesshoumaru's long hair trailed along behind him, their ends sketching abstract patterns over the flawless surface only to be quickly buried beneath another layer of soft ice. Even in the terrible storm, the land lay so peacefully amid the discordant symphony of the strengthening blizzard. Sesshoumaru could have enjoyed the screaming and whistling tempest, had his mind been free of thoughts and plans swirling faster all inside his head than the snowstorm itself. The splintered remains of the cottage was just within range and he had gone no more than a few paces when his machinations and riddle-solving fled quickly with the horridly tranquil snowstorm succumbing to a loud and very obnoxious voice.

"SEEEEEEESSHOUMARU-SAMAAAAAAAAAAA!"

It was high-pitched, scratchy, and dreadfully excruciating on Sesshoumaru's fine-tuned ears. He should have cringed as any good-natured youkai would, only Sesshoumaru was anything but genial and sociability and so he walked on visage remaining as it was: placid and unmoving like that of a beautifully-painted mask. As his lack of facial reaction, Sesshoumaru did not halt either, choosing instead to continue trudging through the layers of snow as though no sound had punctured his peace of mind. Not before long, the white youkai was out of the icy thicket and crossing the small clearing, that obnoxious screech now white noise against the screaming winds and the snow viciously pelting everything it hit.

As though deeply offended by his reaction, the paperless shoji tore open with such force that it rattled off its flimsy tracking and spit out a blur of maroon and green. This strange shapeless figure approached Sesshoumaru at alarming speed, that high-pitched guttural call was still crowing the final syllable of his name. In spite of this, Sesshoumaru's posture did not alter in the slightest until it became too loud to be ignored. A disheartened grunt and a piteous groan curtailed the inhuman wail was.

Sesshoumaru lowered his chin and stared passively down at a mess of scattered dirt and snow where his boot now rested, sole pointing out and pressed up against that green and maroon something. Tiny sodes stuck out in opposing directions from which shriveled tri-fingered hands protruded, waving in manic urgency. Fisted in its right hand was a wooden staff bearing the heads of a laughing old man and a mourning young woman carved so they spiraling up against each other. This too bobbed comically in an up-and-down fashion.

"So cruel…" Sesshoumaru's boot moaned piteously. The taiyoukai lifted his foot, which thankfully happened to be that his shoe had not sprouted arms nor obtained a mind and a voice of its own. Rather, there lay on the frozen ground a bizarre, scrawny creature positioned spread-eagle on his back. Its noseless little head was tilted three-quarters to the right where large bulbous eyes blinked slowly on an ugly face dirtied by the dust and grime. Its mouth—which closely resembled a cross between of a turtle's snapper and a bird's beak—opened and closed, occasionally emitting a sort of inhuman gurgle and light foam bubbling out to one corner.

"Jaken," the taiyoukai began calmly now that the pained burbling had stopped. Sesshoumaru paused as though he meant to add more but said nothing. Instead, he settled on watching Jaken pick himself up, wiping the remnants of his saliva on the sleeve of his dull bronze sokutai, which he wore over a pair of rose-grey sashinuki. "You've returned, Sesshoumaru-sama!" Jaken crowed happily (despite his prior depression) in between the spitting of snow, which had fallen conveniently into his mouth. He was a tiny youkai that stood no higher than Sesshoumaru's knee and looked particularly hideous as he lowered his large head to despondently dust snow from his tate-eboshi.

"I was so worried at first…" He babbled melodramatically, "That perhaps something happened to you, not that anything could possibly bring harm to the invincible, incredible and almighty Sesshoumaru-sama, but I was still so worried that you'd never come back and could have been… distracted for you were gone so long—longer than I thought you—I mean the greatly exalted Sesshoumaru-sama would take anyway—so I began to think that something awful happened to yo…."

"Jaken," Sesshoumaru tried again, his tone now bordering on mild frustration. The little youkai, now midway in his extensive tangent, quickly snapped his beak-like mouth shut. He raised his great yellow eyes to his master, with the vain hope of praise for his worries and, possibly, a token of forgiveness. For all his anticipation, however, this was quickly dashed by a bland "Shut up." Jaken tried his best not to whimper too loudly, lest he anger his master again, but the pain did not subside. He had burdened the venerable Sesshoumaru with his senseless chatter and the prospect swelled within the little youkai, angry and hot.

Pleased have returned to the peace of the screaming tempest and blinding snow slamming against everything, Sesshoumaru turned away from his sniveling retainer and raised his head skyward.

The winds shifted, upsetting the long tendrils of his hair that spun with the gust circling him. The ends of his silk sode flapped madly in the wild unnatural air current as Sesshoumaru's feet lifted off the snow as he ascended high in the air. Seeing this, Jaken relinquished a panic-stricken squawk. He sped after his master, who now hovered a good three feet off the ground and accelerating as he rose like a white apparition without stop. Panting, Jaken rushed as close as he could to Sesshoumaru then, mustering the rest of the little strength he had, jumped up and fisted his master's mokomoko.

Beneath them, the ground fell away, shrinking so quickly that the vacant, broken hut disappeared almost instantly behind pine needle clouds. Jaken clutched Nintoujou safely in the crook of his arm and sighed, relieved that he had not been alone.

They ascended quickly, soaring from the mountain through the icy precipitation then piercing through the snow clouds with ease. They grey darkness faded away to a panoramic field of stars, coruscating high in the velvety sky. The blackened wisps smeared away from Sesshoumaru's eyes and he was greeted by the large clarion half-moon, tilted fantastically on one side, casting its haunting radiance over the night realm.

He sailed languorously now, gleaming white hair streaming back like banners. His bangs fluttered in the frigid air, and his clothes billowed out behind him, resembling a great white cloud. Sesshoumaru flew through the sky, following a trail invisible to all but himself. Beneath him, there was only cottony whiteness that blanketed a darker world of whiteness. Up here, the world felt pure, but not without the elusive foreboding darkness.

There were few other beings that could sense it, Sesshoumaru was of the few who did and the only one who cared. He could smell it stirring deep inside the hearts of men slumbering below. Such a thought brought another frown to his face and once again, the cogs in his mind began to click and turn as it had never ceased to do so. All that he had been told; the important things, Akitami and Isamu, the troubles, the tensions, the strange palanquin, and the lofty fortress, looped in an endless cycle. As Sesshoumaru soared through the crisp air, these thoughts circulated in an endless circle until the invisible walls individualizing them melted and they merged into one troublesome thought. It was from this, where a devastating resolution was born.

The thought was a necessary and terrible one, even to Sesshoumaru. Yet, he was not one to decline an option if it was the only one, no matter how horrendous it proved to be. Such was the vicious way of survival, which so many—even youkai—sought. Though he loathed to admit it, troubled times were ahead. This was not readily apparent now, it was still present as a shadowy, unseen mist whorling across the whole Land of the Rising Sun and affected all the living creatures that walked upon it.

Sesshoumaru glided through the night. Invisible plans quickly sketched themselves out in his mind, but they were concepts easier done with two able bodies not one, despite him counting for more than twenty able men. Jaken was entirely unreliable, so damaging as it was to his pride, Sesshoumaru accepted the fact he needed at least one reinforcement who was equally-matched as he was in capability. So with this in mind, he was headed in the direction of that other person who resided in a small village amid other humans, somehow having surpassed the ugly stains of mistrust and fear blossoming across once-beautifully woven silk.

They were plummeting now with pleasant grace, slipping away from the glittering celestial jewels and Tsukuyomi reclining comfortably on his vast, well-padded dais. The storm clouds loomed quickly before the white youkai before he plunged through the thick sheerness without a moment's hesitation. They descended swiftly until Sesshoumaru landed on a field of soft, rolling foothills with a soundless whoosh. Like up north, this southern clearing also lay covered by the same frozen mantle spread all across it.

The snow had slowed again and large flakes were now drifting lazily from the black early morning sky. In the distance, Sesshoumaru espied Inuyasha-mori standing thickly and beyond that, sitting just on the horizon, a thin shaft of smoke curling from a diminutive village. He caught a whiff of familiar scents. It was here where his brother resided along with his family and perhaps the only human companion he knew. Suddenly having recognized the familiarity of the landscape, Jaken turned an astounded gaze to his silent master, mouth open but saying nothing for fear that he might annoy the white youkai.

It had been years since they had ever set foot in this sleepy human village, not since Rin's marriage to Kohaku fifty-nine years ago when she had blossomed into a becoming woman of seventeen. For Sesshoumaru, it had been a time of mixed feelings where there were barriers to overcome, such as his fierce paternal protectiveness that had suddenly befallen him. Not after a certain incident that occurred all those years ago. Regardless, the boy had proven to be not only a sturdy man of good looks, but also a capable one who was always gentle with Rin as he learned to be during darker years involving an elusive pink gem. Consequently, this emotion had been reluctantly swallowed. Rin—the darling girl who once gathered wildflowers and woven childish garlands for him… his little girl—was given to Kohaku in holy matrimony.

Shortly, a few months after their marriage, Sesshoumaru had gone away, never returning because there had been no need to return until now. Rin was returned to her people and now in the safe custody of her new husband who completed his responsibilities perfectly. He did not expect to come back, not so soon. Yet here he was, strolling across the wide meadow, his long tube of fur trailing behind him. Sesshoumaru stopped, quietly camouflaged in the snow and a few slumbering birch trees near the edge of Inuyasha-mori. Molten eyes gazed out at the village.

Little had changed during the passing decades. The same wooden huts sprung up from the snowscape, dark and wearing thatched rooftops, looking very much the same as they did when Kagome stumbled upon it nearly seven decades ago. There was also the distinct fact that the size and quantity of these homes had neither increased nor decreased, their numbers remaining exactly as they did previously. At the furthest end of the hamlet, Kaede's hut stood next to a long set of granite stairs climbing uphill. Framing this was a scarlet tori standing as a conspicuous wash against the colorless landscape.

Sesshoumaru stepped out from the forest and strolled purposefully through the little village past the houses full of sleeping families until he stood just outside the darkened hut. Once upon a time, it had radiated a welcoming glow even without the square of light filtering from its one window. Now, Kaede's hut stood in cold vacancy, not having been lived in for many years. Jaken took it upon himself to inspect the inside. He scarcely drew his skinny arm out to push aside the grey mat, when soft footsteps jolted his attention to his master's retreating back.

"AWP! Don't forget me!" He cried loudly and literally paddled up the stairs after Sesshoumaru in double speed.

They ascended the smooth stone steps which, Sesshoumaru noted, had been swept before the first call of the cockatiel. The white youkai mounted this with ease, but Jaken (who was less fortunate) slipped just as he overtook his master and skidded all the way down to the bottom, calling heart-wrenchingly to him. This, Sesshoumaru ignored pointedly. In the end, however, he made it to the top of the landing, albeit barely.

Jaken flopped on his stomach by Sesshoumaru's feet, tiny chest heaving. Short bursts of mist puffed in time with the retainer's noisy wheezing. His limbs felt like wooden stumps after having expended so much energy than necessary to climb back to the top. He would have liked to rest until he caught his breath, but when he looked to Sesshoumaru, the white youkai had moved on, completely oblivious to the repose Jaken desperately sought. Little beads of tears formed on the corner of the retainer's eyes and his vision blurred. Sometimes, despite his unending servitude, there were moments when Jaken simply could not understand his master. Jaken's devotion, however, ran as deep as the ocean. Thusly, his rare burst of frustration toward Sesshoumaru would never blossom into the angry fire flower Rin carelessly plucked on some occasions. So the retainer promptly picked himself up and forced the remnants of his strength into his limbs only to run into Sesshoumaru's immobile legs.

Marigold eyes blinked calmly across what was once a humble shrine. The shrine had expanded a little in size, bearing a few changes. For one, a goodly amount of land had been cleared. At the furthest end, near the forest edge, stood an innocuous well; between this, a modest hut had been built a few ways from the left of the stairs. To careless eyes, it would have looked as though the original shrine had been demolished, but the original shrine remained perfectly intact, erected in the exact same location.

Most of the little buildings were devoid of light, save for the little one-story house to the left of the Goshinboku. A friendly glow and a strew of scents, some old and familiar and others young and different, drifted comfortingly in the bitter air. Enveloping this was the presence of another scent Sesshoumaru was certain he knew but could not quite recognize. It had faded with the tides of time, but not much that had left the grounds entirely.

Sesshoumaru approached the hut, Jaken tottering alongside him, the end of his soft mokomoko dragging a shallow trench in the snow behind them. They had not come within arm's length of the house when the shoji quickly slid open, rattling softly.

There were rare moments when Sesshoumaru had ever been surprised and even fewer persons who had been there to witness the emotion spreading across his usually even countenance. He had expected change in his mind and spent many years mentally preparing himself for the shock that was to greet him that night; it was then that Sesshoumaru realized that sometimes, no matter how hard a man steeled himself to the impact of time's handiwork, it was never the same as actually seeing and smelling it. The reality of seeing Rin frail with age was so shocking, Sesshoumaru could not stop the widening of his eyes and the small parting of his mouth. In the fifty-nine years that passed, Rin had transformed from a young supple woman to that of an elderly lady who was shriveled and old. Her kindness, however, was still largely evident in her face and paling eyes, which were still lucid as a cloudless autumn sky.

Just as Sesshoumaru wore his rare expression of astonishment, Rin too stared back with stunned silence at the man who had once been like a favorite uncle to her—for her own reasons, of course. Then slowly, as the warm spring zephyr melts the silent winter, her withered lips spread out into a radiant smile and she gazed down happily at Jaken who had been too surprised to utter the littlest of sounds.

"Sesshoumaru-sama, Jaken-sama," she began not in the shrill childish voice they had been so accustomed to, but a voice laced with weathered wisdom. Having been kneeling on tatami mats, Rin had to wiggle away as fast as her now-ancient body would allow her so to offer her two favorite persons into the hospitality and warmth of her home. "Had I known that you'd be coming," she started, now that the dust of shock had settled, "I wouldn't have let Inuyasha go out tonight; family, no matter how slight the relation, is important, after all."

Sesshoumaru bent to remove his soggy boots out of rare politeness, but Rin stopped him. In all the years that had passed, she remembered his stubborn pride and still harbored deep respect toward him. The old lady let him enter her home with his boots on, but not without, as the white youkai noted with mild amusement, wiping his soles clean first. After her guests had been properly seated, she hurriedly knelt by a large lump reposing in the corner of the room and roused a young man in his late twenties. "Quickly now, Nagoyakabou" Rin whispered in the dull candlelight, half-dragged the sleepy man (a staggering replica of Kohaku) behind the drying laundry.

"What is it, Okaasan?" Nagoyakabou slurred, "Who is that strange old man over there?"

"That is not an old man," Rin corrected in a hurried but soft tone vigilant of waking the others, "He is Sesshoumaru-sama. Now hurry and be dressed, then I will explain once you have come out by the hearth."

It was not before long that Rin and her son (which explained the heavy semblance to Kohaku) Nagoyakabou were seated in front of Sesshoumaru and Jaken. He stole curious looks at these strange, unacquainted visitors, Jaken in particular. "He looks just like Inuyasha-sama," Nagoyakabou whispered to his mother recognizing the silver hair and golden eyes. All the stories his mother had told him as a child that he had nearly forgotten came back to him. "Could he be his half-brother?"

"Yes," Rin said clearly, for she knew there was no secret in lowering one's voice in the presence of a being who had awed her so when she was only a little girl, "This is Sesshoumaru-sama, Inuyasha's half-brother, and to you, Sesshoumaru-sama, this is my youngest child, Nagoyakabou. I offer you my deepest regrets of having not introduced you to my daughter and my other two sons. They are not here." The taiyoukai nodded his head in acknowledgement of Nagoyakabou. He didn't mind the absence of her older children.

While he was the sort of person who wasted little time with humans, Rin was a special exception, and this omission extended even to her youngest offspring as Sesshoumaru saw and felt he was as virtuous as their parents and those whom they grew up with. The night, however, was an urgent one and Sesshoumaru was not one to dawdle even on idle days. He was a curt man who did not believe in making time for leisurely moments, always finding something interesting or important to busy his time away; that being said, he cut straight to the chase.

"Where has Inuyasha run off to?" The question had come out scarcely after Nagoyakabou awkwardly greeted him in a tone cold as ice with the consistency of tightly-woven silk. Neither Rin nor Nagoyakabou had the chance to answer, however, because as the elderly lady attempted to explain, she interrupted by the shoji rolling, this time with a rude snap. From it came the life-hardened voice of a familiar hanyou.

"Right behind you, asshat." Inuyasha stood by the entrance, one clawed hand against the doorframe where he had just torn it open. Their father's hinezumi hitoe and hakama that he wore were as red and colorful as ever. Like the hamlet in which he resided, he too had changed very little on the outside, save for the fact that he now sported the face of a man of nineteen years. The hanyou trampled noisily into the room slamming the shoji behind him as he entered. This roused a much smaller bundle, from which the strong scent of a kitsune emanated. A young boy sporting a shock of auburn hair sat up and blearily rubbed his eyes with the back of a clawed hand.

"What's all that noise?" He whined in a drowsy, lustrous voice. "Inuyasha, stop being a jerk-face and quit that damned racket you're making." Goaded by the kitsune's complaints, Inuyasha whirled in on the kitsune boy and began tromping even louder. Jostled awake, he sat up straight, emerald eyes flashing angrily. "Could'ya please knock it off? I can't sleep." Shippou pushed his covers off his wiry body and stood up in the dim light, now fully awake. He shot Inuyasha a particularly venomous look.

"Keh! The hell with sleep, like you really need it, stupid kitsune brat."

"Inuyasha-sama…" Rin sighed wearily.

"What did you call me?" The kitsune boy flew to his feet, hands balled into fists. In the place where there had once been a tail, was nothing at all, and the tiny fox feet Sesshoumaru vaguely remembered were gone and replaced by ones that were far more human in shape save for the little developing claws growing in place where there should have been ordinary blunt toenails.

"…Shippou, we have guests." A stern eye from Rin checked the angry kitsune.

"Tch. Why bother with all this formalty bullshit? It's only Sesshoumaru." Inuyasha snapped, but he leaned grudgingly against the wall and said no more while Shippou hastily pulled on a threadbare haori. The hanyou remained eerily tacit even as they gathered around their guests with Rin (sometimes joined by the kitsune) telling Sesshoumaru and Jaken stories of all that happened after the wedding and how life now operated comfortably in their home built by the most important men of her life. Through it all, Sesshoumaru discreetly observed Inuyasha, puzzled by the prospect of how Inuyasha stood a few paces away from the rest, stony eyes fixed on empty space. What he found more perplexing was how silent his brother was even when Jaken crowed with throaty laughter after a plethora of embarrassing episodes involving the hanyou.

As a child, Inuyasha was, as Sesshoumaru recalled, one who shied away from the hustle and bustle of activity but not without the jealous longing gleaming in his eyes. The older, supposedly evolved Inuyasha may have still retained his usual brusque character, but there was a paradox addition of hardened silence that was slightly unnerving even to Sesshoumaru.

Strangely, in the years that had passed them by, it seemed as though none had changed, but the differences between old and new soon became pronounced and spread out, rapidly affecting everyone, even Sesshoumaru. Despite his usual frosty exterior, it could be said by some that Sesshoumaru had mellowed out just a little. He was no longer the child who hid the truth of his heart (inherited from the revered Inu no Taishou) behind a wall false pride. These changes were slight nonetheless, but there were rare occasions when the ice encasing his emotions did melt. Yet none outside this small circle of old-timers were made aware of this. Hence, it was not strange to them when Sesshoumaru expressed a sliver of interest to Inuyasha's confounding behavior… though it was with a careless sort of demeanor.

Inuyasha seemed had reversed from who he was after Naraku's death. Somehow, while others moved forward in life, he had drifted back down the bank and returned to a point in his earlier life when his milk-teeth were still planted firmly in his mouth. It was not that Inuyasha had become childish and scared, only that he had donned a more adult persona of qualities Sesshoumaru thought he had long outgrown.

"Well," Whatever the hell you want from me, Sesshoumaru, I ain't doing it." Inuyasha spoke up, harshly cutting through Shippou's animated recount involving a certain little green youkai that seemed to affect Jaken greatly.

"So rude," Rin clucked disapprovingly as she shook her head, "We all understand what happened sixty-three years ago, but you have no excuse to…"

"I don't wanna hear about that whatever-the-shit-happened-sixty-three-years-ago bull ever again!" Inuyasha exploded, velvety ears standing up straight with fury. The hanyou shoved himself off the wall, directing his ire on his nonchalant half-brother, "As for you," he indicated to Sesshoumaru with a clawed index finger, "I don't know what you want nor do I give a rat's ass about it, but no fucking way." Stuffing his hands into his furi, he left as noisily as he had come in, the smart tap of the shoji signaling his leave.

Sesshoumaru regarded the situation completely unperturbed, though he did harbor an inkling of curiosity as to what occurred.

"We don't talk about that year much in consideration of Inuyasha's feelings," Rin began, quelling his inquisition a little, "It was a terrible, terrible year not just for the village, but to us, and above all, Inuyasha." She paused briefly and looked to be about to say something else but mournfully stooped her head. "My apologies Sesshoumaru-sama, it would be better to ask Inuyasha-sama himself as this subject is a sensitive matter for him. I hope you would pardon me if I keep the whole story from you."

Silence reigned. The fire that had been renewed upon Sesshoumaru and Jaken's arrival dwindled down to a small flame, as though it too were recalling a bitter running deep in the household while they sat in a moment of quietude. This, however, had passed no more than a minute or two before Nagoyakabou bent forth and fed the dying fire. The red flames sprung up, tongues flickering merry and golden again.

"So that is the case," he murmured contemplatively, "If that is so, then it cannot be helped." Sesshoumaru rose to his feet, startling Jaken as he stood. The others raised questioning eyes to him. "Come Jaken, if Inuyasha will not give his aid, then it must be done alone."

Rin followed Sesshoumaru's gesture and led them to the entrance. She, above everyone else, understood all too well that Sesshoumaru was a free soul and stayed no longer than he deemed necessary. The others mimed Rin's lead respectfully for she was no longer a child, but a village elder who was to be honored and treated as such. Certainly, she did live up to her title for Rin was a virtuous and honest woman. For all it was worth, her not a single space in her mind was clouded with selfish discontentment. Nothing brought her greater joy than to see his face for the first and last time in fifty-nine years before she, too, followed her late husband into the netherworld.

x x x

The palanquin had already passed safely through the main gates and up the many slopes leading to the citadel long before the blizzard struck. The footsoldiers who had surrounded it dispersed, called by their officers to other menial tasks. The rest of the envoy proceeded along the sandy path, through a labyrinth of bleached walls until it opened to a wide courtyard overlooking the main fortress.

Here, the servants bent their knees, crouching as low as they could muster. Directly in front of them, the entrance to the tiered castle stood on a platform hovering good two feet off the ground. Presently, the shoji slid back and another man, the lord of that glorious fortress, stepped out onto the wooden verandah. He was a little taller than Akitami, his long glossy hair combed and tied back, away from handsome face curiously free from any battle scars that usually mottled any warlord's face.

"Akitami Taishou," He spoke lofty, "You've returned safely and without fail."

He gazed down at his subjects through eyes clear and bold as the dark soil of freshly plowed land. Akitami and Isamu dismounted their horses and delivered a swift, reverent bow. The servants waited patiently to be dismissed. "We offer our deepest apologies for your extended wait, Mononobe daimyo," The taishou paused and Mononobe nodded his head expectantly. "As per your request, we have returned as speedily as the gods would permit."

This lord stood on the polished floorboards in his tabi, arms folded casually behind his back. He was dressed in the appropriate manner befitting of a warlord. The indigo silk haori he wore with its sleeves tucked into a matching pair of onyx kote was without pattern, but its color rich. A haughty pinched sort of expression, common to those of noble breeding, roved over to where the carriage servants awaited.

"What," He gesticulated to the ostentatious palanquin waiting unassumingly before him, "May I inquire, is that?"

"It is what you seek, daimyo-sama." Akitami reported simply.

At his command, the shades lifted and from it, the servants extracted a very young woman—sallow-faced with motion-sickness. She was not beautiful by traditional standards with a ski-sloped nose slightly bigger in proportion to her small ovular face. Her skin, though pinkish in tone, was two tones darker than what was deemed appropriate in women of the time. In spite of the young woman's obvious flaws, she possessed a pair of large eyes, the color of dark, luminous honey. A small wrinkle creased in Mononobe's brow. She looked to him strange, not at all in the ethereal sense, but odd enough nonetheless. Could she be a youkai? He frowned. A youkai that took the form of a human was a rare occurrence—at least this was what he had been told by the elders in his childhood. Should Akitami have been misfortunate to encounter one, it would have only been by the miraculous will of the kami that he was standing in his court, unharmed.

He scrutinized the sickly young woman sagging before him, vaguely reminded of a deflated jute sack. Was this scrawny girl really what he had risked to obtain?

"Is that a youkai?" Mononobe intoned languidly after much contemplation. Then again, it made little sense as to why Akitami would through the trouble of stuffing one in a palanquin. This, however, did little to emolliate his apparent distain toward the idea. He had been expecting something far more palpable in terms of the generic miko—small, young, and demure.

"I assure you, Taishou," Akitami said, his voice reverberating in the hushed courtyard. "She is a miko."

"Oh?" Mononobe countered as he paced the length of the verandah, "And have you proof that would not convince me otherwise?"

"Your concern is understandable, daimyo-sama. She seems rather… eccentric, but there is no helping it. Though it may not please you, we have visited Kameyo-sama and she has affirmed that this miko may be of great aid."

"Then you claim this cooty old hag is not a flimsy little fairytale?"

"She is not, daimyo-sama," Akitami informed his master, recalling that young woman seated outside her little hovel. "I distain to admit it, but despite the stories, she has fastidiously held up to her reputation."

Momentarily, no words were exchanged. By this time, Mononobe had descended from the upraised platform and now stood so close to the taishou, he could make out the details in his scar. Regardless of his subject's reassurance, he could not dispel the dubious feeling that flooded him. "I trust you are aware that this Kameyo-sama sides neither with youkai or human? She may not be reliable." Akitami lifted his chin and fixed Mononobe with a serious look and the daimyo was reminded of his unfailing loyalty. Surely some good would be borne from Akitami's decision. He sighed gently and turned away. "Very well," the daimyo mounted the upraised platform again, "I will trust your judgment."

Akitami and Isamu bowed low.

"We thank you humbly, daimyo-sama." He called out, his tone saturated in gratitude and reverence, "Your wide heart and tolerance towards our wayward actions is truly an honor to serve."

It was thusly with this that the nauseous and exhausted woman was finally permitted entry into the citadel. She was quickly escorted inside until this strange miko found repose at long last.


Mononobe = (Mo no-no be) this is an existing name of a prominent family during the Asuka period. It was virtually obliterated by its rival, the Soga clan, in a bloody clash over who was to ascend to the throne. Later, the clan reemerged as Isonokami, but I chose to stick with the original name as it will hold its significance later.

Long chapter, I know. I'm afraid a lot of the others will end up like this as well (hell, maybe even longer if I find it necessary). Also, sorry for all those words you have to read. I wish I could say that the next chapter will be less Japanese-y, but I could be lying, so, cross your fingers and hope to die… in yet another cesspool of words

Á bientôt mes amis!