Blood Unbound, Part VI: Go and Return

Disclaimer: This story is based on "Inuyasha," copyrighted by Rumiko Takahashi. No infringement of copyright intended or implied.

Inuyasha panted and shook as he fought down the fire in his blood. He refused to turn youkai! Not the kind of youkai Kikyo had described; not the kind of mindless killer he could almost, but not quite remember. He wanted—he wanted to be himself! But—kami!—why did Sesshomaru have to find him like this? So afraid, so terrified of himself, whimpering, shaking, a whipped dog, his brother must despite him utterly, a cowardly, wretched cur that deserved to be walked on in utter contempt, a thing that deserved all the scorn, all the disgust, all the hatred, all the beatings and whippings and pain he and every other being in the world had inflicted on him all his life. How could he have ever thought he deserved any better, he was a hanyo, a nothing, ugly, despised, worthless, degraded, sick, twisted, abhorrent—

"Go to Bokuseno."

The mental tirade came to a halt as Inuyasha's eyes snapped open wide in shock. His brother's voice came again, dispassionate and uncaring in tone, yet imparting information. "West by south, a mountain with three waterfalls on the south side that merge into a single river. Follow the river to the forest. If he chooses, you fill find him."

Inuyasha whipped around, to see his brother walking away. "Wait!" he cried. "What are you talking about? Are you trying to help me—why? And who is this Bokuseno, why should I go to him, what is he—a youkai, a hermit—what?"

"A two-thousand year old magnolia."

Sesshomaru vanished. Inuyasha sank to a seated position, staring across the river to the woods where his brother had disappeared. For a long time, he was unable to do anything else, his mind reeling with the totally unexpected concept of his brother giving him advice. Totally confusing and uninformative advice, yet words offered without the usual sneering insults, or accompanied by the rake of poison claws or hammer blows of fists. What had happened to his brother, to make him do such an un-Sesshomaru thing?

Looking away, finally, Inuyasha dragged the back of his hand across his eyes, before reaching up to ease a itch on his temple. Claws snagged in his hair, and he withdrew his hand to look at his ragged, broken claws, which were tipped with dried blood. He grimaced a little, remembering his panic and the hateful voice shouting in his head. No, nothing had happened to Sesshomaru—it was himself that had changed. To a whimpering, groveling, trembling—

Shut up, he told the voice, forcing himself to get to his feet. He staggered, swaying, his knees threatening to buckle, his head not quite spinning. Slowly, his legs decided to hold him up, and he looked around, realizing that he was utterly exhausted. He needed food, and shelter. Sniffing, he slowly turned around, surveying his location. To his surprise, he realized that his brother had dropped him off—whether by intent or accident—in as good a location as could be hoped for. A meadow edged by bushes was close by—he could smell the sun-warmed scents of berries and early-season fruit, as well as make out the scents of several types of plants with edible roots. Even closer, in the bush-covered slope north of him, he could sense a cave. And he could smell no hint of youkai, nor of any large, mortal predator, though the scents of smaller animals abounded. He would be able to eat, even sleep in relative safety.

Sesshomaru couldn't be this considerate, could he?

His ears twitched. Inuyasha winced as his right ear pulsed with pain. Reaching up, he gingerly examined the damaged ear with his fingertips, remembering the way Sesshomaru had dragged his claw through the sensitive flesh. His dunk in the water had washed away the surface poison, but not before the damage had been done. It was going to take days to heal. The hanyo muttered the vilest description of his half-brother that he could think of, reaching up with both hands to press against his aching temples. No, Sesshomaru wasn't showing any sudden brotherly concern or kindness. It was as the taiyoukai had said—no one was going to break Inuyasha, save himself. Since someone already had, clearly, Sesshomaru's only option was to manipulate the situation to make Inuyasha better, so that he could then have the privilege of breaking his reviled half-brother all over again. Nope. No kindness there.

Inuyasha muttered another epithet, walking—limping, really, as muscles cramped—slowly over to the nearest bush that might have ripened berries. There were, and he began to pick them off, scaring off the birds which had been feasting, his ears and nose on alert as always. He'd eat lightly; find a tall tree to nap in (despite the lure of the cave), and then wake up to hunt before dark. In the morning, after more sleep, he would decide what to do.

Except, of course, he reflected later as he settled onto a branch, he was kidding himself. He didn't have a real choice. He couldn't risk going back to Kikyo and the village: he couldn't risk transforming and killing them, rosary or no. Ignoring his brother's advice would gain him nothing. Sooner or later, he'd be cornered, and he'd lose control. So, he might as well search out this 'Bokuseno', whatever reason Sesshomaru had for directing him to a magnolia tree. He could not imagine what a tree could to or say to help an inu hanyo, but what did he have to lose?

Exhaustion tried to drag him down into sleep, which reluctantly, he allowed. But on the verge of sleep, a thought struck him, jolting him awake awhile longer.

2000 years. Inuyasha didn't know just how old his brother was, but he knew it was nowhere close to that age. Bokuseno might or might not be a friend of Sesshomaru's, but one thing certain: he was much his elder. But that meant—

Could Bokuseno have known his father?

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Miyatsu gathered his thoughts and his resolution as he continued to stare at the kneeling tanuki, deciding that there was no real way to soften the blow. "Yukuuku-san, I'm sorry. Tsubaki was killed that morning, after you left. We fought against her—myself, another miko, and that hanyo—and nearly lost. But the hanyo killed her after she thought she had killed him."

The tanuki whimpered, eyes starting to fill with tears. "Oh, no, my mistress, my poor mistress! I warned her about the hanyo, I told her he was a monster, I told her! Oh, my poor mistress!"

Hiding a grimace, the monk reached out and patted the tanuki's shoulder. "I mourn with you, Yukuuku-san. Tsubaki was a beautiful woman with strong spiritual powers: powers she could have used for much good. But, we cannot forget that she chose her path, seeking power for her own ends, and it is that which brought her to her end."

"But she saved my life!" wailed the tanuki. "She saved my life, and that horrible monster killed her!"

Miyatsu sighed and patted her shoulder again, as the tanuki sobbed wildly. Waiting until the volume of her cries faded, and trying not to think how much like a child she sounded, he said quietly, "Is that when she asked you to serve her?"

The tanuki started, and looked up with indignation through the tears soaking her masked face. "No! She didn't even wait for thanks! She left, and it was moons later, I found her, weak and hurting, from a duel with an evil miko, I took care of her, I owed her, she never asked me!"

"It pleases me to know that Tsubaki-sama was not entirely lost to good," said Miyatsu, deciding that there was no need to try and correct the tanuki's understanding of the cause of the fight between the two women. "Would you pray at her grave? I can take you there—poor recompense for your help that it is."

The green eyes widened, then shimmered with fresh tears. "I-I—oh, yes. Please. I—please."

Folding the napkin around the remainder of his lunch, Miyatsu quickly placed it in his pack. "Come. I will walk with you."

She rose as he did, and followed him as he turned back towards the village. They walked in silence, save for an occasional sniffle, and Miyatsu mused over the turn that his life had taken, to have attempted to help a hanyo, and to walk a trail with a youkai trailing behind.

He wondered if his sensei and his peers would ever believe him.

-----------------

Yasuo was discussing the state of one of the upland fields with two of the older farmers when a youngster came pelting up to them. "Headman! Headman!" he yelled as the trio turned at his approach. "The hoshi! He's returned! With a youkai!"

"What?!" exclaimed one of the two farmers. "Youkai!?"

"What kind of a youkai?" asked Yasuo quietly.

"Um... ah...well," stumbled the youngster, "it was dressed, kind of like a woman, with a scarf, and ah, a face kind of like a dog, but with a mask. And a tail—yeah—brown tail, with rings."

"Tanuki," guessed one of the men. "Pretty harmless."

"Harmless?" growled the other. "Bad enough that our miko expects us to tolerate a hanyo, but now that hoshi returns with a youkai? What does he think we are?"

Yasuo sighed, mentally bidding farewell to a quiet evening. "Where was the hoshi, Goro?" he asked the skinny boy, who was still panting from his run.

"In the river meadow," he said. "Yoshi saw him first, and told me to run and warn you."

The headman flicked at glance at the lowering sun. "I'd better get back." Turning his gaze back to the farmers, he continued, "Go ahead and ask her, but remember that she's still not able to get around very well." He returned his gaze to the boy. "Goro, run down to the meadow and inform the hoshi that I would welcome his presence in my house for a meal, but only if his companion does not object to staying outside the village."

The boy swallowed, paling. "You-you want me t-to talk t-to a y-youkai?"

Yasuo swallowed a sigh, knowing that Goro was not one of the village's brighter youths. "No, Goro," he said patiently, "I want you to talk to the hoshi. Tell him what I said. You do not need to say anything to the youkai."

The youngster still hesitated. "Boy, the only reason you might have to fear a tanuki is if she decided you were needing some help with girls—and you're not quite old enough for that yet," said the farmer who had identified the youkai. "Especially with the hoshi around. Now you heard the headman—get going."

The boy, flushing, turned and fled. "You are going to ask that hoshi what he thinks he's up to?" asked the second farmer.

"Of course, Tadao" replied Yasuo, refusing to be ruffled by the older man's angry tone. Tadao's daughter had been the woman that Inuyasha had come so perilously close to killing, before Kikyo distracted him, and he had lost two brothers and a nephew four years before to an apparent youkai attack. "I expect that he has a good reason for returning so quickly, and I do not expect him to try and bring the youkai into the village." He gave Tadao a long look, meeting his eyes, until the farmer looked away. "Is there anything else you need to discuss?" he asked, including both in his question. "Otherwise, let's head back down."

Both men shook their heads, and Yasuo turned and walked towards the path that would lead down to the village. Yasuo kept his face imperturbable, but inside, he was worried. The men might not have recognized the description, but Yasuo was certain that the youkai was the one who had brought Miyatsu to the scene with the dark miko and the spell-changed hanyo. He had been watching Inuyasha as the hanyo shook off the effects of the broken spell, but he had also heard every word of the brief conversation between youkai and miko. Yasuo had wanted to know about the connection between miko, tanuki, and hoshi, but given the exhaustion of the two humans after the fight, and the tension between them, over what to do about the transformed and sealed Inuyasha, he had refrained from asking. He had been relieved when Miyatsu had decided to leave, and not merely because the hoshi was, in his opinion, being a little too friendly with the younger women. Miyatsu could be very charming, and was uncomfortably clever at getting people to confide in him. Yasuo hadn't intended to be as open about his concerns for Kikyo's future as he had been. It might very well turn out for the good, if Miyatsu could in fact find a way to turn the hanyo human, since that was apparently what they both wanted. But still, he had not intended to be that open with a wandering monk. He only hoped that the hoshi kept his word and did not spread rumors about the pair. For the village's sake, as well as their own.

-----------------

Kikyo kept her eyes on her meal as Yasuo, Miyatsu, and Satsuki's three sons engaged in light, inconsequential conversation in the adjoining room. Her leg, despite all the pain-numbing tea, was a throbbing inhibitor of appetite, but she did not dare dose herself with anything stronger. She knew that her sister was watching her, and Satsuki had conveyed her own concern with a light touch on the shoulder, as she moved about serving the men and her two female guests.

She wanted to know why the hoshi had come back so quickly, and with a tanuki, no less. Surely it had nothing to do with his promise—he could not possibly have gotten to his temple, found a solution, and returned, all in one day. And what was he doing with a youkai? And why did she feel almost angry at his presence? Why did she not want him back?

Satsuki removed the dishes, only a small sigh revealing her concern about Kikyo's lack of appetite. She cleared the dishes from the other room as well, and Kikyo could hear the three men take their leave. Satsuki and Kaede left for the back area of the house, leaving her alone, but not for long. With a scrape of wood on wood, the shoji separating the rooms opened.

"Miko-sama," said Yasuo formally, "I hope you do not mind if we join you, while houshi-sama informs us the reason for his return?"

Looking up, she managed a smile at the headman. "I am quite curious myself, Yasuo-sama, thank-you." She made herself look at the monk. "Miyatsu-sama."

"Kikyo-sama," he replied, with what suspiciously looked like a twinkle of amusement in his eyes. The two men seated themselves, despite the fact that it left them at a lower eye-level, given her position sitting on a rolled futon. "I hope you are not wondering if I have returned because I have found the answer to that small promise I made to you, just this morning."

Despite herself, she found herself smiling a little. "No, houshi-sama, I am not wondering. If you are truly capable of traveling to your temple, discovering and mastering an obscure spell, and returning, all in one day, then how could you possibly have managed to lose to a mere dark miko—twice?"

He laughed openly. "Ah, my dear miko-sama! Have I not told you of my deadly weakness—the glance of a beautiful woman?" His humor disappeared as he shook his head. "But, truly, I had no plan to return so quickly. The only reason I returned to this area is because of the tanuki, Yukuuku."

"You'll explain that, I hope," said Yasuo, with just an edge of coolness in his voice.

Miyatsu looked at him, and nodded soberly. "I had no intention of bringing her into the village itself, headman," he said. "Nor, I think, would she have wanted to enter—she seems a fairly timid creature, at heart. And naïve, in all truth." He grimaced a little. "I tricked her into bringing me here in time to intervene in Tsubaki's plans—perhaps that is why I was so quick to decide as I did." He paused. "She wanted to pray at Tsubaki's grave."

Kikyo stiffened. "Why would she want to do that?" she demanded.

Miyatsu explained. Kikyo listened in growing surprise, shocked to think that the vain, selfish Tsubaki would ever even think of helping anyone, let alone a mere youkai. And able to win someone's loyalty? But as she listened, another thought came to her. When Miyatsu had finished his story, and before Yasuo could say a word, she interrupted.

"I want to speak with her."

"What?"

"I want to speak with her."

Miyatsu have her a confused look, as did the headman. "Why?" he asked. "She's only a tanuki. She hasn't done anything wrong."

"I'm not saying she did," snapped Kikyo, trying to keep herself from curling her hands into fists. "But I have to speak with her."

"But, why?"

Her hands refused to obey her. "I have my reasons," she stated flatly.

Miyatsu looked at her a long time, eyes gradually narrowing in thought. "I believe she was going to stay near the grave. You know I can't bring her here…"

"You can borrow a handcart," said Yasuo, "or ask Kenichi to carry her. But I would like to know why you want to speak with a youkai, miko-sama."

Kikyo dropped her eyes. "I have my reasons," she said stubbornly.

She wouldn't—couldn't—tell them why.

But she had to know.

She had to know what Tsubaki had done to Inuyasha. She had to know what she had done to break him, how she had shattered his pride, his reckless courage. She had to know why he had failed to recognize her at first, why he had bitten her. She had to know what had happened to him, know the things that she knew he would never tell her, even if he returned.

She had to know.