Chapter Nine: Fearless and Forgotten
A/N: In case my readers have picked up on it, you'll see that sometimes Lixue doesn't remember things correctly or has a different point of view than what was actually happening. Her senses are hearing-based, whereas the canines are more scent-based. Taizu-centric portions are from a blind perspective until he touches the mirror, and his memories from a young boy's perspective, tainted by bitterness. Pretty much the only character who remembers things 100% accurately and objectively is the tree. Also, I mention a warrior princess in this chapter – she really existed. I recommend reading about her. Onward!
On the first night, Monk Taizu could not sleep.
On the second, he dreamt of slaughter.
The air was thick with smoke and blood, charred bodies turning to ash, flying up the nose and coating the lungs with fear. The sunset's hue painting his father's castle in a banner of crimson, glazing every color into red and deeper red, the fading light fierce and fleeting. The gunpowder was long since gone, fire lances useless in the face of the massive tiger's wrath. A man's frenzied screams as he was ruthlessly grabbed from the castle's wall and thrashed to and fro by his arm, the guttural snarl and sick squelch and snap of bone as he was torn free from his limb to smash face first into the castle, a dull crunch as his spine splintered in two, a dark streak as he slumped motionless to the dirt. The massive tiger roared, sending a shockwave of fire and fear through the men. He watched helplessly from his tower window, the heat turning his face red, his stomach pinching with hunger. The tiger leapt to the battlements, sheer size knocking the guards screaming into the toothy pit lining the wall, rearing to send ten whips of incineration, wrapping the castle in dripping magma. Those unlucky enough to catch the whips were split apart, cauterized on contact; some weren't even lucky enough to die from it, saved from bleeding out only to be crushed underfoot. His nanny ushered him away from his window, but he could still hear the fighting. The snap and sever of great fangs, crushing solid armor like cheap foil, the stink of fear, the screams of dying horses, the noxious fumes creeping through his window, a poisonous promise of what was to come. Of what did come. All of it was a promise left fulfilled.
He awoke to a masculine hand shaking his shoulder, voice low but urgent. Miroku.
"Are you alright, Taizu?"
The monk nodded. "Is it morning?"
"Almost. Were you having a nightmare?"
"I was dreaming about the day Lixue killed my father." The hand dropped from his shoulder. "I'm alright now though. Thank you for waking me." He felt around for his mirror, and found it nestled against his bedroll.
Monk Taizu got to his feet, the mirror showing him that all except Miroku were dreaming still, stepping around them towards the river to meditate.
He sat near the dark waters, sitting on the cool earth with the mirror before him. He reached toward the mirror's consciousness, his efforts rewarded with the silky touch of the mirror against his mind.
You are taking far too long to find the tiger, the depth of voice chided him. I require more of her soul.
I know that you desire it, he responded. But she is proving more difficult to find than I anticipated.
Her soul sings in mourning. It grieves for a field of silver lilies, a castle near the sea, and the scent of yellow lotus. Find out if these things are connected. I hunger for a soul, and if you can't bring me hers, you will offer me yours in its place. The mirror's consciousness withdrew from his.
Taizu leaned against the rock, muscles suddenly fatigued. The mirror had this effect on him – it siphoned bits of his spiritual energy to sustain itself enough to give him sight and speak to him. It was a fair trade but it was nonetheless draining, and sometimes he couldn't shake the feeling that the mirror was taking more than its usual share.
When the sun had well and truly decided to show up, he returned to the makeshift camp with his traveling companions, who greeted him warmly with bacon. He smiled appreciatively and bowed his head in thanks to Sango as she passed him a plate.
"Where will we go today?" Taizu spoke through a mouthful of grease and meat.
"Kagome needs to go back to her world, so we are headed to Kaede's village east of here." Miroku supplied.
"…her world?" Taizu frowned. "I don't follow."
"It's a little complicated, but I'm not from this time. I have to go back for school and to see my family." Kagome's response was happy, but wavering. "I'm not doing so hot in math right now. Or history, which is a little sad, since I'm living it…" She sighed. "Anyhow, I have to go back. The final exams are in a week and I need to bone up."
Taizu nodded, though he didn't completely understand. "How long will we be in this village?"
Shippou piped up. "Until Kagome gets back, usually."
He frowned. "But Lixue was headed west most recently. It won't do me any good to go east and stay still while she could be marauding villages or escaping back to the mainland."
Miroku propped his chin on his fist. "A lot of foot traffic goes by the village. We're more likely to hear if something big is going on if we're in a village than on the road. Lixue could have changed direction for all we know, and Kaede's village is pretty centrally located."
Taizu couldn't argue with the logic presented by the younger man, but the urgency instilled in him by the mirror's threat plagued his heart. "We mustn't stay for a week. She may find a way to destroy the mirror and reclaim her soul in every moment left unchecked."
"I'm sorry Taizu." Kagome's voice was soft. "I can just go back on my own and you guys can keep looking for her if you want. We can meet up after my exams are over."
"If you're sure, Kagome. We'll tell Inuyasha when he gets back." Sango patted her friend's shoulder.
"Thank you, Kagome. You don't know how much this means to me." Taizu smiled toothily.
"You're welcome, Taizu. I want Lixue to be found."
"Oh, that reminds me. Three things are connected to Lixue: silver lilies, a castle near a sea, and yellow lotus flowers. Are they connected with each other in any way that you know of?"
The others shook their heads in disappointment. He noted to himself to ask Inuyasha when he returned from scouting out the area. As the oldest member of the group (though you wouldn't know it for looking), he had the highest chance of knowing what these things meant.
oOxXxOo
"You never said not to go anywhere." Lixue studied the face of her childhood companion as he glowered at her, an odd expression for one carrying an armful of magnolia blossoms. "What are those for?"
Sesshomaru had returned to the clearing he had left Lixue and Rin in earlier that day on Ah-Un's back, Jaken riding on the rear, to find with a twinge of worry that they were long gone. He had tracked them a few miles south to the outskirts of a human town, relaxing by the stream. If he hadn't caught her scent, he would have struck her down – she looked entirely different in her new armor.
He watched her watch him, noting the change her attire brought out. Her silver eyes gleamed intelligently at him with hidden thoughts, her high-set ponytail sweeping back from her face. Her lips seemed fuller, the bone-bead collar settled primly on the armor. He had to admit to himself that she looked rather fantastic, the blue and green dark and seductive, an entirely different aura than the frumpish hakama she had donned before, the hip plates accentuating her muscular body in an oddly feminine way. Since when is Lixue feminine?
Her demeanor toward him had shifted rather drastically, as well – now, instead of glaring at him with every word spat in response, she seemed almost content with his return. He was suspicious of her, perhaps a tactic for some unknowable end.
He glanced at the flowers he had heaped in his arms. Bokuseno hadn't said how many blossoms he'd need, so he grabbed all the almost-open flowers he could carry – which, as it turned out, were quite a few. He'd lost about a third of them on the flight back, peppering the air behind him with the pearlescent blooms in his haste to return. He'd even filled one of Ah-Un's saddlebags.
"They're for tea." Sesshomaru did not acknowledge the way she raised her eyebrows.
"There's quite a bit there. And isn't magnolia bark the order of the day when it comes to tea?" She smirked at him.
"Mind your tongue." He turned from her to Ah-Un, who huffed softly at the blooms in his master's arms before attempting to eat one – an action that earned the dragon a sharp rap on one of his noses.
Rin plucked a stray petal from the grass, turning it in every way to gleam sweetly in the sunlight. She sniffed the petal and bit into it experimentally. The petal's crisp aroma was the first thing she noticed, then a citrusy tang followed by a mild bitterness – she smiled. It was interesting, like Li.
Later that night, while Rin lie sleeping with Ah-Un and Jaken, Sesshomaru and Lixue watched each other across the fire. He broke it first, grasping the brand-new kettle when it began to whistle softly.
He had purchased it before they left town, insisting that they needed to have magnolia tea that very evening, double checking with the owner that they had everything they would need for tea while traveling. She had had a hard time keeping her amusement hidden – his sudden obsession with tea bordered unnatural, like some highborn aristocrat clinging to the last vestiges of civility, pouring tea ceremoniously in the middle of a war and kneeling in the mud. Regardless of the fact that he was a highborn aristocrat, he hadn't shown the slightest interest in tea until he had shown up draped in magnolias demanding it. Rin had picked up on it too, but kept nibbling on stray petals, occasionally glancing up at Lixue and trying to hold her hand. Lixue would pull it free and step away… only to have the girl close the distance and slip her fingers into the armored palm of the tiger once more. They eventually settled on a wordless compromise of Rin holding on to Lixue's clawed index finger.
She watched with interest as he studied the magnolia blossom. He sniffed it and tasted the center experimentally, only to spit it out and discard it, choosing to study the petals in its stead. He noted the waxy outside, deciding to split it in half with his claw. He seemed proud of his handiwork – two halves of a petal plopped in the bottom of a teacup. She guessed that if he had desired tea, he probably had servants to do it for him, so this was an adventure in domestics. He glanced at her through his lashes before returning his attention to the task before him. She took a moment to study him, now that she remembered him more fully.
He had sharper features now, his markings accenting his elven face in a pleasant way. His hair was much longer, his mokomoko long and voluptuous, an unexpectedly soft feature in such a hard man. Like the girl. She looked at the sleeping form of Rin, wondering again how they had fallen in together. If he was aware that she was studying him, he did not let on, choosing to pour the water in a careful stream into the cup. He admired his handiwork, stirring the liquid lightly every few minutes while it steeped, before fishing out the petals and handing the cup to her brusquely. "Drink."
"Where's yours?" She gingerly plucked the cup from his outstretched claws, eyeing him with suspicion.
"I made it for you." His eyes darted to the fire, then her foot, then the trees beyond.
"That's not answering my question, Sesshomaru. I'm not drinking unless you have some first." She set the cup down on the grass, feeling the spike of displeasure through her tether.
"You will drink it." He growled.
"No." She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes at him, ignoring the growing discomfort from the beads. "Not unless you have some too."
They stared each other down, small leaps of electricity sprinting down her spine and causing the minute hairs on her neck to stand on end. His irritation gave way to a hint of amusement at her gall and he reached for the cup, taking a gentle sip to placate the tiger.
The sticky sweetness of the flower spread on his tongue, a strong taste for such a small amount. Honey and lemon, with just a hint of vanilla – nameless tastes – but a taste pleasing to the palate, a caress before the gentle bite of bitterness. With eyebrows raised, he returned the cup to the tigress, settling closer to her so as to not reach quite so far. She accepted it, watching him closely until he opened his mouth to show her that he had, indeed, swallowed.
Satisfied, she sniffed the tea, the hint of Sesshomaru's saliva a subtle overture to the magnolia blossom… the word that crossed her mind was seductive but she pushed that idea right out of her head. This was Sesshomaru we're talking about – she doubted he'd had a romantic feeling in his life. Maybe mild interest. Maybe.
She drew the tea across her lips slowly, then more deeply, as the myriad flavors poked at her nose. She closed her eyes, an odd feeling taking over her. She… she was sad. It was a simple word, but potent nonetheless. Opening her eyes, she furrowed her brow at the empty cup, then at Sesshomaru, whose face was oddly blank. She was struck again by an awareness of loss.
He hadn't had much of the tea, but he had eaten some of the petals. Unlike Lixue, he was aware of what was happening – the power of Bokuseno unwrapping hidden things, peeling away the tightly curled leaves to reveal the bud sleeping within.
Lixue closed her eyes again, the grief and longing washing in then out again; coming and going as waves breathing to the shore from the lungs of the ocean.
In. Her father smiling with pride when she bested him in battle for the first time. He hugged her close, reeking of sweat and blood, not caring that she wasn't fully reverted – he embraced his teenaged daughter and whispered to her that she had done well.
Out. He's gone now. He's been gone for years. Why was she thinking about him now? It was a most inopportune time.
In. Confiding to Sesshomaru in the boughs of an ancient magnolia tree that she was afraid that she wouldn't be the sophisticate her father wanted her to be, that he wouldn't be proud of her.
Out. It had been a foolish worry – her father was proud of her. He loved her. He'd be proud of her today if he were still alive. …Right?
In. The impatient passing of seasons in China, watching the spring blossoms wither with impatience for the summer as she was learning the proper manner for pouring tea.
Out. Of course she was distracted with outside, who wanted to be trapped indoors learning how to best curry the favor of some lordly cousin's wife's sister? Summer meant adventure and freedom.
In. Summer meant Sesshomaru.
Out. He was there too, sure. She didn't wait for summer to bum around a foreign castle with a frigid pup when she couldn't even leave.
In.
The wave didn't exhale. She shivered with the intensity of it.
Summer meant Sesshomaru. Summer meant father. The endless days of winter giving way to mere hours of lilies, the castle by the sea, the impatient wriggling of a girl for her father's bedtime stories while the pup slept beside her on a dare for the second week in a row. She would curl up with him in his mokomoko while her father sat beside the bed, telling grand adventures of the warrior princess Pingyang of the Tang dynasty.
She missed the summer terribly. Why had she forgotten?
Sesshomaru breathed out slowly beside her, closer than she remembered him being before. Had he moved? She turned her head, nearly coming nose to nose with the inuyoukai; his eyes were shut, his nostrils flaring as he breathed in again – utter concentration on his face and close enough to share his heat. She squeaked, a decidedly non-tiger thing to do, and his eyes flew open – tawny and reflective of the flames – he straightened and seemed to come to himself, the stiffness of his spine and sudden disinterest in tigress a complete switch from only moments before. What was going on?
Her mind was tugged in every direction, all at once with great ferocity – I miss father, I miss Sesshomaru, I want to go home, I haven't a home to go to, I'm nothing without the rest of my soul I'll kill that priest who does he think he is pleasepapaImissyou – she groaned deep in her throat and sprang away from the fire and the familiar stranger it held in its light.
She did not know where she ran; she knew only that she had to run. Shrouded in the sharp, the fog, the horrible keening tearing from her core; strip the guise of humanity, rip the raw throat of her sadness but it doesn't die – why won't it die?! – the roaring and snapping of the trees, slicing thin marks into the fur and mud. Clamber and leap through the river, the rocks, desperately clinging and clawing her way from the rush of emotion she couldn't afford to have. Nothing was familiar, a dark and hostile forest for the dark and hostile beast.
She could hear Sesshomaru following her path, waiting for her to spend her anguish, the scent of him comforting and terrifying and unwanted and dreadfully needed.
The tigress ran, fighting and fleeing from her mortal soul.
