Blanket Disclaimer: The writer does not own any characters created by Rumiko Takahashi but like everyone else wishes she did. All original characters or concepts are the author's Inuma Asahi De's (with the exception of historical figures).
Chapter Twenty-Five
Hauntings
The sound of scratching and the distinctive hiss of a dancing candle filled the Captain's cabin of the ship Shikuro, the candle's flickering flame illuminating two figures that were currently hunched over a desk side by side working amongst the scattered mess of parchment, quills, and wells of ink; the candle's limited light being their only true guide. From his spot beside Miroku Inuyasha sat, a quill in hand, charting their course on the same map he had used only a few days before in the presence of one Kagome Dresmont, who was currently having 'girl time' with Sango and the young Shippo—even though the later was in fact not a girl. To Inuyasha's knowledge they were schooling the boy just as they had every night since Kagome had awakened and been deemed in good health.
Inuyasha tapped his quill tip against the map, dripping unintentional marks on the Port of New Orleans, symbolic black voids that dyed the map, like chaotic yet bleak vortexes, vortexes that could draw one in trapping them in a place devoid of reality.
He stared back at those black voids, his mind wondering over them, lost in their very existence, transported to another time, to another place—a place and world he had not seen in fifty years. "I met her back then, the very first time I came to New Orleans, over fifty years ago." Inuyasha shook his head trying to force the thoughts away as he blinked rapidly the dots on his chart mocking him relentlessly.
"Fifty years."
The time repeated in his mind, like a clock that chimes at midnight signaling the end of something and the beginning of something new. He leaned away from the chart, placing his quill back in the well so he wouldn't mess the parchment any farther, his mind transporting him away from his current task.
"Fifty years," He whispered to himself, the thought echoing within his psyche. "That's not really that long ago, is it?" It wasn't. "I wonder," He questioned as his thoughts turned to that day, the day he had arrived in New Orleans for the very first time. "What would have happened, had I not docked there?"
The thought had always pledged him, what would have changed if he would have picked another port. Why had he even bothered traveling to New Orleans, a port that was so hard to reach, nestled within the Mississippi River? What had possessed him to do such a thing, why had he gone—why had he chosen that particular port out of all the ports that laid within the great coast of the North America's? Why had he done it? And if he hadn't, if he had never dared to dock there, would anything be different now?
Inuyasha snorted, sick of his own train of thought and shushed his mind, choosing to pay attention to his young student instead. Beside him Miroku sat, hunched over his own parchment, his hand stained with ink as he drew another character, saying it as his quill left the page to dip back in the ink in order to repeat the gesture again, just as he had during his very first lesson.
"You're kanji's getting sloppy Miroku." Inuyasha chastised as he watched Miroku, his mind grateful for the distraction.
Miroku sighed heavily and put down his quill, his mind reeling with all the information that was being hurled upon it unmercifully. It was too much, this new language he was learning, the alphabet was intense, and (as he had learned recently) it wasn't the only alphabet that the language used. There was another one, the one he was working on right now. The Captain hadn't told him how many characters were in this new alphabet, like he had the previous one, so Miroku could only guess it was as extensive as the first. Seeing as he had only gone through a total of five characters, he could only imagine the horrors of his education that were to come.
"What language needs two alphabets?" He grumbled as he laid his head on the desk exhausted, knowing Inuyasha would hear him.
"This one." Was Inuyasha's matter-of-fact reply as he leisurely stretched and stared at the ceiling, continuing to focus on Miroku rather than his previous train of thought.
"But why?" Miroku continued on as he turned his head, allowing his cheek to rest on the desk instead of his forehead, his eyes staring upwards at his surrogate father. "Why not just combine them into one?"
"Because each serves a different purpose." Inuyasha informed as he rocked back and forth in his chair, moving from two legs to four off and on; his expression completely neutral.
"A purpose?" Miroku inquired, genuinely intrigued by the prospect that there was an actual point to the endless memorization of characters he had been subjected to for the past two lessons.
It had all started with his first lesson a week or so ago, in which he had memorized all of the vowels that the unnamed language employed, from writing them to pronouncing them. The next lesson, had taken place two nights ago, a night where he had found the Captain alone on deck (unknowingly barely missing one Kagome Dresmont) with his violin. After much convincing he had been able to draw another lesson out of the Captain, this one ending in the further memorization of what he was told was the Hiragana alphabet.
Now he was learning the Kanji alphabet, the second alphabet, with no idea why one would need to learn two alphabets. And yet, there was some hope at the end of the tunnel, here—now—the Captain was presenting him with an opportunity of knowledge, a hope of finally comprehending the purpose behind his long nights of memorization. Nights spent by himself writing and memorizing while Sango slept in their warm bed alone—nightly pleasures neglected so he could focus on the new lesson.
Slowly, Inuyasha leaned forward in his chair, both chair legs hitting the ground with a loud smacking noise. "I guess, it's time for the next lesson."
"I thought this was the next lesson." Miroku stated dryly, his anticipation of the answer making his heart race.
"This is just a formality." Inuyasha told him bluntly as he grabbed a piece of parchment that was well used. Due to the expense associated with parchment, he didn't like to use it needlessly or at the very least he would use it until every single fraction of space was well covered with ink—it was the only way he could make it worthwhile and cost effective. "Now we have to learn the purpose behind the alphabet and the kanji."
Miroku blinked rapidly a few times. "But aren't they both alphabet's? There's the hiragana alphabet and then the kanji alphabet."
"No," Inuyasha told him with a smirk on his face. "The kanji you have been learning is not an alphabet like the hiragana," The smirk doubled on the Captain's face, presented like a mischievous well of knowledge. "Kanji characters are not letters," He paused leaning closer to Miroku his expression tightened as if he was telling some grand secret. "They're words."
"Words?" Miroku asked his eyes wide.
"Yes, words." Inuyasha clicked his tongue clearly amused with this lesson.
Miroku narrowed his eyes before speaking hotily. "All this time you've been lying to me."
Inuyasha chuckled as he grinned at Miroku, pleased with himself. "All in the name of education, my boy, I had hoped you would've figured it out when I didn't tell you what letters the characters were symbolizing."
Miroku groaned and laid his head back down on the desk, "Why didn't I see this coming?" He grumbled into the wooden surface humiliation haunting him. This wasn't the first time the Captain had given him a sneaky lesson, teaching him with the Socratic Method in mind, but this was the first time (in a very long time) that Miroku hadn't caught on at all.
"You're a bit rusty I suppose." Inuyasha told him while shrugging his shoulders. "How disappointing." He shook his head back and forth, suppressing the chuckle that was lodged within his throat. "I guess this lesson might just be over your head."
"Shut up." Miroku grumbled as he lifted his head and glared at his father. "I might be rusty and all that shit but I still want to learn so let's get on with it."
Inuyasha grinned broadly, "Alright, if you insist." With that smile still plastered on his face, Inuyasha reached for the parchment Miroku had been working on and turned it to face Miroku as he began the lesson once again. "As I said before, all of the characters in the Kanji are not letters but words. For instance the first one you learned today was ichi." He said as he pointed at the very first character on the paper, 一.
"Ichi," Miroku repeated, already having said the word a hundred times today. "Ichi? What does it mean?"
"One," Inuyasha said before pointing at the next of the five Kanji Miroku had learned today, 二. "Ni, it means two."
Miroku nodded his head enthusiastically before repeating the word and its English equivalent. "Ni, two."
With a firm nod Inuyasha pointed to the next character, 日. "Nichi, sun."
"Nichi, sun."
Inuyasha smiled before pointing at the next kanji, 月. "Getsu, it means moon." Miroku released another echo of Inuyasha's words, before the Captain pointed to the last symbol on the sheet, 人, "Jin, people,"
"Jin, people." Miroku repeated the last word before sitting back looking a little confused as he contemplated each and every character he had learned. "So, the kanji are words?"
"They are."
"Then the hiragana is—the alphabet?"
"In an English sense it is," Inuyasha informed as he placed the parchment back on the desk, turning himself in his chair so he was facing Miroku instead of the wooden work area. "But that's not exactly how it works."
"Yes," Miroku agreed with a nod. "I had wondered," He stated while tapping his chin in contemplation. "How the Hiragana alphabet formed words. It didn't seem to work like it would in a roman based language."
"Exactly," Inuyasha nodded with a smile. "It doesn't work the same way at all. The alphabet doesn't necessarily create words, although it can." He added seemingly as an afterthought before continuing. "The alphabet creates something else."
"Creates something else?" Miroku mumbled while leaning back in his chair. If the symbols of the hiragana didn't create words then what could the function of the alphabet possibly be? He had never heard of a language that treated its alphabet in any other manner than a means of creating words, so what—what was the purpose of this language's alphabet? "I have no idea," Miroku concluded to himself puzzled as he looked at his father, eyes narrowed. "What does it create?" He asked bluntly.
Inuyasha gave him a sideways glance as he dipped his quill into the ink well turning back to the desk and the parchment that laid there. "Grammar." He told him as he circled the place on the parchment where he had drawn the original hiragana alphabet. "The hiragana isn't just an alphabet." He told Miroku. "Its sounds make the grammar we recognize in English."
Miroku titled his head to the side, taking in what the Captain was saying. "Grammar? As in verbs and such?"
"Yep and the kanji," Inuyasha continued on as he circled the Kanji they were learning today with his quill. "Teaches us the individual words." He finished by writing a few more English words down.
"Nouns," Miroku read as he squinted to read the Captain's shaky cursive. "And adjectives."
Inuyasha nodded firmly as he set back popping his neck in the process, "There are thousands of kanji symbols."
Miroku coughed, chocking as he looked at the Captain, eyes wide in complete and utter disbelief. "Thousands?" He said gasping for breath. "I'm supposed to learn to write thousands!"
Inuyasha snorted and shook his head in the negative. "I don't even know them all. I only probably know—well—remember," He chuckled lightly while scratching the back of his head. "A few hundred," He finished as he once again leaned onto two legs of his chair. "For now, you will only learn the easy ones, ones you will use in normal conversation."
Miroku nodded, seeming a little more reassured now than he had moments before. "So when will I start to speak?"
"You're speaking now." Inuyasha pointed out smartly his face drawn into a snide line.
Miroku glared at the Captain, his eyes narrowing to slits as he gritted his teeth. "You know what I meant, you pompous asshole."
Inuyasha merely continued to grin. "You'll start to speak as soon as you build a good enough vocabulary. Once you memorize a hundred kanji, then we'll combine it with the hiragana and you will learn to speak and write at the same time." Inuyasha clicked his tongue. "Just as we've always done."
Miroku nodded his head finally pleased with the Captain's answer, "Yes," He confirmed with a lick of his lips, an action that acknowledged his slight apprehensiveness, "Just as we've always done."
Inuyasha smirked before grabbing the parchment and writing something new on it, 天. "So the next kanji today is Sora," Inuyasha pronounced out loud turning the parchment back to Miroku. "Sky."
"You're very celestial tonight, aren't you?" Miroku commented his voice stale as he took in the character. "Sora," He pronounced softly, "Sky."
"Write," Inuyasha commanded, "Pronounce," He reminded, "And then state the meaning."
"Hai." Miroku joked as he began, his quill going to work fast. The minutes beginning to tick on as Miroku labored, Inuyasha watching over his shoulder diligently, studying him closely for any mistakes. Suddenly, without warning Miroku stopped writing, quill still in hand, and turned to Inuyasha, his eyes full of question as if he had just remembered something that was once important. "Inuyasha, can I ask you a question?"
"Sure." Inuyasha gave him the go ahead, secretly a little uneasy. With all that had been going on lately, he was starting to become nervous every time someone asked him something—just in case their question was one he was not willing to answer.
"Why does Myoga call you Inuyasha-sama?" Miroku inquired as he started to write once again, one ear turned to his father while the other focused on his pronunciation.
Inuyasha grimaced, he had hoped Miroku would forget about that slip up but it appeared the ever observant man was as observant as ever. "It's a sign of respect, you could say."
"So," Miroku pulled his quill to his chin, letting the feather tap his lips lightly, "Is –sama like saying Captain then?"
"Yes," Inuyasha said hastily, latching onto Miroku's understanding, seeing it as a way to hide the truth, a truth he was not willing to share. "It's like a title or honorific."
"What other titles are there?" Miroku asked thoughtfully.
Inuyasha thought for a minute, it had been a long time since he had used a honorific in his native tongue. "Mr or Ms is –san,"
"San," Miroku repeated, the sound familiar to him for some reason. Pursing his lips in thought he ran over all the words he had already learned, none of them producing that same noise, licking his lips he turned to Inuyasha, watching as the man continued to contemplate more titles while rubbing his temple and as the Captain thought the answer struck Miroku, the exact place he had learned the term. "Otou-san," Miroku said suddenly, pronouncing the word slowly as he twirled his quill, his eyes firmly stuck on the Captain. "Otou-san, is that the same –san as in Mr?"
Inuyasha blinked several times before looking at Miroku intrigued. He tilted his head in thought, going over the word in his mind. "Well," He started as he mulled over the exact translation. "It kind of—is—ish." He concluded as he turned back to Miroku who was smiling.
"So I'm calling you Mr. Father?" He said while laughing.
Inuyasha laughed lightly as well but shook his head no, "It's more of a sign of respect," He began to explain. "It's kind of like Mr or Mrs but not really the same. It conveys a feeling more than a translatable word." Inuyasha nodded to himself, agreeing with him explanation. "All of the titles are like that, like –chan. You call any children or friends sometimes, or animals –chan, it's cute."
Miroku raised his eyebrow at this information. "Okay, I don't think I've ever heard you say the word 'cute.'"
Inuyasha growled and closed his eyes. "I can say the word cute if I want to."
Miroku only laughed, "Okay Otou-chan!"
Inuyasha's eyes flared opened and glared at Miroku so hard that the other man thought he might melt from the gaze.
"Sorry." Miroku said hastily as he grabbed his quill and started to write once again.
Inuyasha only sighed, knowing there was no reason for him to be angry with Miroku, after all, it was not like he had never been called –chan before.
"Inu-chan!" A woman called around cupped mouth, a beautiful sound.
He could almost see her, standing on the porch of his birth home, calling for him to come home for lessons or a meal. She had been one of the only ones to call him Inu-chan, everyone else had insisted on calling him by his full name, Inuyasha. He smiled fondly at the memory before pushing it aside, now was not the time. "Don't worry about it Miroku." He finally said as he glanced at the other man beside him.
Miroku glanced back, the two looking at each other for several seconds, the apology hanging in the air around them, waiting to be either declined or accepted. Finally Miroku's face broke into a smile and he leaned back in his chair, dropping the quill in the well. "I'll forgive you on one condition Otou-san."
"What is with everybody and fucking conditions!" Inuyasha screamed inside, replying on the outside calmly. "What is it?"
Glancing at his father out of the corner of his eye, Miroku grinned boldly. "If Otou–san is polite and Otou–chan is—cute—then what makes Otou—um, well, disrespectful?"
"There's no suffix for that." Inuyasha said with a shrug, already well aware of what Miroku was trying to pull.
Miroku shoved himself back to his feet, all four legs of his chair slamming back down firmly to the ground as he brought his hands out in front of him irritated. "That's not fair!"
Inuyasha laughed heartily, his eyes sparkling with mirth as he grinned at Miroku. "Oyagi." He told him bluntly. "You can use Oyagi. It's like calling me your 'old man.'"
"Oyagi." Miroku repeated with a smirk. "I like it; you are an old bastard anyway." Miroku added with a laugh as he picked his quill back up and began to write again unaware of the slight change that was overcoming his father.
"Oyagi." It had been a long time since Inuyasha had heard that name or seen that man, that tall man, well armored constantly, silver hair, held high above his head, and two great legacy's at his side, one belonging to Inuyasha and other to a brother he had only briefly known. That man, a man he hadn't seen in a little under four hundred years. He had been so little, so young the last time he had seen that man.
"Oyagi—," Inuyasha whispered into the dark, causing Miroku to halt his work.
"Hm?" The young man questioned with a grunt as he turned to look at Inuyasha. "Did you say something?"
"I—," Inuyasha opened his mouth, his control over his own voice slipping easily as the image of that man began to fade, disappearing, fuzzy, the memory hard to recollect "I called my own father, Oyagi."
Miroku dropped his quill his eyes snapping to Inuyasha, completely stunned into absolute and utter silence. Never—in the whole of ten almost eleven years had Inuyasha ever said a word about his father, his mother yes but never his father, not so much as a breath or slip up but now he had said it, he had revealed it, "Oyagi." Miroku whispered as he studied his father. "He does exist."
Inuyasha seemed to be in a world of his own, his eyes dazed as he stared into the ever flickering candle, taking in the sight with soft golden irises. "Hai," He whispered out loud, whether it was in respond to Miroku or not, Miroku couldn't tell. "Itsu watashi ga saigo no Oyagi, anata o dō omoimasu ka?"
Miroku watched the Captain bewildered, he had no idea what the Captain had just said, the only word he had been able to pull out was Oyagi, the rest was no better than gibberish to him. Unsure of what to do Miroku shifted in his chair, watching the Captain as the man stared off into space, his expression still oddly blank as he continued to watch the candle's flame, staring at something that Miroku couldn't see.
"Otou-san." Miroku mumbled but Inuyasha was far from hearing him, his memories drifting away from him, taking him to a place he had not been in almost four hundred years.
A garden, filled with trees whose leaves and blossoms had long since died, snow covering old flower beds, hiding the earth from those who sought it; a stream, small, running through its middle, only flowing because of a trick by river spirits who kept it warm.
This was the world outside the castle, the world outside the sliding door, the world that the small child, Inuyasha, was not privy to at the moment. Instead he was inside, the door leading to the snow filled garden opened just enough to allow in the crisp cool air while allowing his crisp gold eyes to see out.
But he wasn't allowed to see the outside world of winter, instead he was forced before a small table, his knees bent, his body weight resting on them. A piece of paper was sitting on the smooth wooden surface before him, held down at its top by a piece of long rectangular rock. Slowly, just as he had been instructed he held the brush in his right hand, his left hand holding back the sleeves of his hakama as he carefully dipped just the tip of the brush into the ink stone where his father had previously crafted the dark writing substance for him, he being too young to do so.
Glancing to that man who was currently sitting beside him, he waited momentarily before the firm chin nodded, the eyes of the man hazy as if forgotten in the memory. "Inuyasha wa, kakikomi." The strong voice reverberated in the room, surrounding him, harsh yet gentle, firm yet supportive.
"Hai, Oyagi." His small voice said as he turned back to the paper, his hand shaking as he wrote his first ever Kanji symbol, mimicking the long strokes of his father's example. "Ichi."
"Otou-san!" Miroku yelled while shaking Inuyasha by the shoulder, trying to rouse him from his distant opened eyed sleep.
Inuyasha's eyes appeared to spark back to life at the sound of Miroku's pleading voice. He blinked rapidly his hands clutching the sides of his chair as the memory faded into nothingness. Slowly, he felt himself come back to reality, awareness seeping into his body as he acknowledged the feel of someone touching his shoulder. With shaking hands he turned to see a hand he knew well, followed by an arm, connected to a body he had known since it was small and then a face he had known through all its aging.
"Miroku," Inuyasha whispered into the room, the memory still haunting him as he reached his hand up placing it on Miroku's own shoulder. "I think, I've had enough lessons for today." He said as he stood abruptly Miroku's hand falling away from him at the action, his eyes still seeming shocked, dazed, and confused.
"Are you alright?" Miroku asked as he too stood pushing his chair back in the process, stepping out in front of the Captain before the older man could simply disappear.
"We'll be in Port by mid morning, best get some sleep to prepare for the docking." Inuyasha said, ignoring Miroku as he easily stepped around the younger man proceeding to the door. "It's about an hour walk to our destination once we're docked, so have Sango make some food or something." He opened the door.
"Inuyasha!" Miroku said firmly stopping the man in his tracks. "What just happened?" He took a step forward, panic clearly in his voice. "Why did you—it was like you just disappeared, like you're body was here but you weren't—what happened?" Miroku reached for him but Inuyasha only looked away, ignoring the pleading hand. Miroku's mouth dropped slightly opened at the rejection, a sting coming in his heart—it was as if his own father had slapped him in the face. "Is something wrong?" He forced himself to speak, gulping after his words had left his throat.
Inuyasha only continued to look away and that terrified him more. He had never seen the man act like this before, he had never been brushed off like that by the Captain before. Usually the Captain got angry, told him it wasn't any of his business and then (through the process of wearing the older man down) he would eventually tell Miroku, tell him everything but this time, he just looked away.
"Please," Miroku pleaded. "Tell me what's wrong? You can tell me anything. You know that," He took a step forward, careful to keep his hands at his sides so he wouldn't provoke any unseen instincts. "Please I'm your son."
"My son." The words range in the air, silent and meaningful. For several seconds Inuyasha stood frozen, his back facing the younger man, his posture hunched adding to Miroku's worry. Then suddenly he turned, a slow and deliberate movement, until he was looking back at Miroku with dim eyes, eyes that were clouded, unfocused, vacant, as if the Captain had disappeared within himself, as if he had hidden himself away. And then he spoke, his voice hollow, dead, lifeless. "Ghosts." Was the shallow whisper, those lifeless eyes looking at the ground as he spoke them before he let out a sickening chuckle, an obscene smile forming on his face. "They're haunting me."
"Ghost?" Miroku asked into the darkened room, the candle's light steadily burning out as it reached the end of its wax home. "Real ghosts."
Inuyasha looked up, those empty eyes as poignant as any long dead deity. "No," He said into the air. "They're not real, but they were once, now they're only memories—," He paused as he turned away to leave the room, his mouth opening unsure, as if unwilling to speak. He looked at Miroku, stared at the boy he had raised, his eyes blank as if he wasn't really seeing him but seeing something else, ill fated, and long since past. Finally, he shook his head, drudging his mind of those thoughts as he turned gripping the door handle, pushing it downwards and forward his last words echoing off the wall as he left. "They haunt me like nightmares."
-break-
Kagome stood on the helms deck of the Shikuro absolutely fascinated as they sailed down the Mississippi River, land on either side of them, holding the water to the ship. Her eyes searched, taking in the sight of a small town or more accurately village filled with quaint houses of varying degrees of construction or perhaps destruction. She tilted her head to the side at the sight feeling a great sense of pity for the people that lived in that world. "That mustn't be a very comfortable life." She thought to herself as she looked at the small hovels. "Poor souls." She sympathized as she leaned on the railing her elbows touching the wood while her hands held up her head to continue with her observations.
Blinking against the bright sun that was hot upon her back she squinted so she could almost make out the people mulling along the bank although they were still pretty fuzzy even with her decent vision. She closed her eyes for a second hoping to be able to see better when she opened them once again. Opening them slowly, her pupils protesting the bright sun, she looked out across the bank once more trying to discern what the people were doing along the river's shore.
"It looks like they're collecting wood." She discerned as she watched the people hunched over grabbing at bits of driftwood that had washed up on the shore. "I hope that's not for their shanties." She frowned as her heart swelled with pity for the poor individuals. "It probably is though," She drew her lips into an even tighter frown. "What a life." Blinking slowly she turned her eyes away from the sad sight of the people on the bank and instead looked towards the front of the ship. Kagome gasped as she noticed a small ship coming towards them, smoke appearing to come from a chimney like object in its middle. Turning quickly to Sango who was at the helm she pointed at the ship panic clear in her voice, "That ship's on fire!"
Sango gingerly raised her eyes, directing them towards the small boat that was puttering along slowly, "I don't think it's on fire," She commented as she squinted, catching sight of the men working on board. "But it's not a normal ship, that's for sure—hm—magic maybe?" She narrowed her eyes lifting one delicate eyebrow before glancing down at Miroku who was currently laying on the ground next to her, appearing asleep. "Miroku," She called tapping the man with the toe of her boot.
Groggily, Miroku stirred pushing her foot away with a sleepy hand. "What?" He grunted as he rolled to his side away from her, exhausted from being up all night pondering the Captain's strange behavior, an endeavor that had left him absolutely exhausted. In the end, he simply found himself unable to wrap his mind around the Captain's words: "They haunt me like nightmares." He frowned at the words and licked his lips. "Could a memory really be that powerful?" He wondered to himself but grimaced when the answer came to him with no further thought. He knew first had that memories could be deadly, especially memories of one's parents.
"Miroku," Sango said calmly as she kept her eye on the approaching ship. "What kind of ship has no sails?"
Miroku opened one eye to look at her putting his thoughts aside for now. "Does it have a stack?"
The woman narrowed her eyes in response unsure of the term. "A stack?" She questioned the air as she watched the ship get closer and closer to them, going down the channel instead of up it. Her eyes turned to the strange looking metal cylinder with no sail standing where a mast should stand. "That's odd," She thought to herself before looking down at Miroku who had closed his eyes again. "Do you mean the thing with smoke coming out of it?"
"Yeah, that's a stack." Miroku mumbled as he turned to his stomach resting his head in the nook of one of his bent elbows. "That's a new kind of ship they've been tinkering with." He added, his voice barely audible as he spoke, his lips pressed against his arm muffling the sound.
"A new kind of ship?" Kagome repeated his words as she turned back to the ship she had thought was on fire. It was coming up to their stern now about fifty feet off to the starboard side. "How does it move without a sail?"
Growling slightly Miroku sat up his hair mussed and dark circles shinning in the light from under his eyes as he looked at the two women aggravated. "Steam." He growled out, "Now can I go to sleep or are you gonna keep asking stupid questions?"
Sango raised an eyebrow at Miroku before knelling down beside him one of her arms still holding onto the wheel, keeping the ship straight. "What's with your sudden attitude, Miroku?" She whispered harshly as she stared Miroku down her face stern, her expression bearing no room for retaliation. "If it wasn't for the men being about I'd put you in your place right now for treating me and Kagome so rudely."
Miroku seemed to wake instantly as he took in her words biting his lip in serious regret. "I'm sorry Sango." He whispered back as he placed his head in his hands rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I didn't get much sleep last night and—,"
"That's not a good excuse for being so nasty." Sango cut him off with a huff, keeping her voice low so none of the men would hear her reprimand their Quartermaster.
"I'm sorry, Sango," He said again before looking over at Kagome not daring to speak loud for fear of his reputation but giving her a look that plainly stated he was sorry for being coarse to her as well.
Kagome only smiled back gently, "Why are you so tired Mr. Miroku?" She questioned, her voice airy and kind as if the previous incident had never happened.
Miroku only sighed as he laid down on his back his hands behind his head acting as a pillow as he looked at the sky. "I had a strange night last night is all and I wasn't able to sleep because of it."
"That happens to me sometimes." Sango spoke quietly into the air, her earlier anger dissipating as she listened to her husband. "You try to sleep but you can't get your mind to shut off?"
"Yeah," Miroku agreed as he continued to study the clouds above them, watching the beautiful white objects sail across the blue expanse, just as a sailing ship sails the blue expanse of the sea.
"If you don't mind me asking," Kagome started from her spot some distance away leaning against the rail, no hat on her head, her hair simply moving about freely in the wind—it was down past her ears now. "What was your mind so enthralled with that you couldn't sleep?"
"Something the Captain said." Miroku commented from his spot on the ground. "Last night at my lessons."
Kagome blinked several times tilting her head to the side as she turned putting her back to the rail as she watched him. At the helm Sango mimicked her actions also tilting her head as she turned slightly, studying Miroku with serious eyes. "What did he say?" Both women asked in unison, their words perpetrating the air curiously.
Miroku shifted his eyes between the two women wondering if he should tell them about the Captain's ominous line, "They haunt me like nightmares." Strangely Miroku felt that for the first time in a long time this new bit of information should be a great secret between the two men. After all, Inuyasha had only spoken after acknowledging that Miroku was his son—so wasn't this a thing between just them, a promise between men to be silent? "You can't tell them." Miroku heard his conscious whisper. "At least not everything." Mind made up Miroku rose, standing on strong sea legs as his eyes shifted discretely looking around for any men within ear shot of them before he motioned for Kagome to come towards Sango and him by the helm. Kagome nodded in understanding as she moved away from the rail, coming to stand on Miroku's other side as Sango continued to steer, her eyes glancing between the river and the two people she was conversing with. "He mentioned," Miroku started to speak as both women leaned closer to him, so they could hear his quiet whispered. "His father."
"His father!" Sango exclaimed unwittingly causing Miroku to hurriedly grab her and cover her mouth with his hand.
On Miroku's other side Kagome watched transfixed in her spot, a million thoughts running thru her mind. She was just as surprised as the other two, "Inuyasha has a father, what am I saying of course he has a father, everyone has a mother and a father." She yelled at herself. "He even told me about his mother, that is, the violin but," She frowned. "A father? He never said anything about his father."
"Shhh," Miroku commanded softly pulling Kagome back to the conversation as he put his hand that was not covering Sango's mouth up to his own, one finger acting as a silencing gesture.
"Sorry," Sango whispered against his hand as he removed it leaving her to speak freely albeit quietly. "So he mentioned his father?" The woman questioned as she tried to keep her attention on the helm so they would sail straight. "Did he say anything about him?"
"Yeah," Kagome whispered from the other side her curiosity spiking as possibility after possibility ran through her mind. "Did he say anything about where his father was from, you know was he a noble?"
Sango nodded vigorously on Miroku's other side, her and Kagome's eyes coming into contact as she spoke. "That would explain why he's so well educated."
"I know." Kagome agreed as they both turned away from each other and looked at Miroku between them.
Looking back and forth between both women, Miroku almost felt bad disappointing them but with a lift of his shoulders he shook his head. "No," Miroku told them honestly. "He didn't say anything about the man being a noble, he just mentioned him," Miroku brought a hand to the back of his head, scratching it slightly. "Kind of—like," Miroku shifted this way and that in thought. "You know, he admitted the man existed."
"Okay," Sango tapped her chin in thought with one hand while adjusting the ship's heading with the other. "Tell us the whole thing," She pointed at him then, "From the beginning."
"Don't miss a thing." Kagome added from his other side, "This could be it, a chance," She told herself as she clasp her hands in front of her heart. "A chance to learn something new about him." She pursued her lips before licking them. "I want to know everything, Miroku so don't leave a lick out!"
Miroku gave her an odd look, eying her slowly as he allowed her words to sink in. "She wants to know everything but why?" Contemplating this Miroku took the briefest of seconds to study Kagome's posture: the way her hands clasp in front of her heart as if she was in prayer, the way her eyes seemed to sparkle, begging for him to continue, the hopeful look that nestled within them seeming to say, 'I want to know, I want to know all about him.' Maybe he was seeing things when he looked at that innocent girl, maybe she was tricking him with her sweet face and wide naïve eyes but—no matter how Miroku looked at her, he just couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her curiosity than simple curiosity. "Could it be, she wants to know him because—" He started to question himself. "Because she likes him?"
He closed his eyes for a second, thinking over the past month, the mouth in which Kagome Dresmont had been with them. At first she had been timid and scared, weary and clingy to Sango but that had lasted only a few days. After that one time when he and Sango had let Kagome and the Captain go off alone together on the Port of Spain, she had seemed to relax, and then even after the kidnapping she had grown more relaxed than before. He had even seen her and the Captain talking together, just the two of them, laughing and being playful or as playful as Inuyasha could be that is.
Miroku smiled at the thought, "Maybe, Miss Dresmont fits in here better than I thought." With a firm nod Miroku let the thoughts leave him, he would have to discuss the Captain and Kagome's relationship with Sango later but for now, it was story time. He crossed his arms over his chest, one hand raising to hold his chin as he shifted his eyes upwards to look at sky once again, thinking back to the night before, searching for any important details. "We were talking about this new language he's teaching me."
Sango nodded, Miroku had told her of the new lessons and the strange language that he was currently learning. He had also told her that he wasn't sure what the language was or where it was from, the only thing he knew was that Totosai and Myoga both spoke it along with the Captain.
Across from her, however, Kagome blinked rapidly, she had no idea that Miroku and Inuyasha were doing nightly lessons, the information being totally new to her. "He's teaching you a new language?" She interrupted before Miroku could speak again.
Looking down at her Miroku nodded. "Yes, it's his native language he said."
Silently Kagome took this information in, her mind running quickly with it, he spoke a completely foreign language—
"Western demons, they've all forgotten how to use their claws."
As if a bolt of lightning had hit Kagome, the information slapped her in the face. "He's not from here—but—where could he be from? He's not western then—but—he doesn't look like a person from the east? He looks—British." Kagome blinked several times, completely confused, it didn't make sense. She had seen a person from the far east and a person from India before but the Captain looked nothing like them, he had tan skin yes but his chin and his height and his build, it was all European, down to the firm strong set of his jaw and the fullness of his moist lips and that intense sparkle that seemed to line his eyes right before those lips met her—Kagome's eyes snapped opened and she gulped before forcing herself to look at Miroku, ignoring her thoughts for the time being.
Miroku gave her a glance, making sure she had no other questions, before continuing. "We got on the subject of how you address people, you know their version of Mr. and Mrs. and stuff like that." He started to chew the inside of his lip for a second as he glanced at Sango. "In that language you use a suffix, –san," He informed them both as he then turned his eyes to Kagome, telling her something he had only told Sango during late night conversation. "The word for father is Otou-san."
Kagome furrowed her eyebrows taking in that information. "Mr. Father?"
"That's what I said." Miroku mumbled as he shook his head back and forth before continuing. "But it's more like saying Father instead of Papa or Old man."
Both Sango and Kagome nodded sharply for him to continue.
"So I asked, you know since I call him, well, father—um—Otou-san, if there—," Miroku stopped for a moment, a little shy about this facet of his and the Captain's relationship. "We just managed to express the sentiment to each other." Miroku's thought came to a screeching halt as his eye twitched. "I do sound like a molly," He groused but allowed himself to push the feeling down. "I don't know if I should mention to anyone even these two the extent of our relationship yet." Miroku had to stop himself from slamming his head into the floor. "That sounded even worse."
Sango smiled, realizing at least part Miroku's conundrum and placed a warm hand on Miroku's shoulder full of all her love and awareness. "You asked Papa if there was a disrespectful term, didn't you?" She supplied for him gently.
Miroku smiled thankfully and placed his hand on top of her own. "God I love this woman." He told himself as their fingers intertwined and he brought his head to the side, lifting her hand slightly so he could kiss the top of her knuckles gently. "Exactly," He informed before continuing. "Oyagi was the term, he told me and we laughed you know and then—," Miroku slowly let her hand go as the memory came back to him. "Then he got all distant and he told me, 'I used to call my father Oyagi.'"
Sango nodded. "Wow," She whispered into the air as the information filled her. "So he didn't come out of thin air."
Kagome gave the woman an odd look. "You don't just appear," She said with a slight giggle. "He has to have a mother and father."
Miroku drew his lips into a frown. "I know he didn't just appear, he told me of his mother so I know he was born." The man held in a sigh as he grew tense wanting to make sure he didn't mention that little bit of information. He knew better than to mention the Captain's mother to anyone, anyone at all. "But for a man its a totally different thing to have a father." He blinked slightly and looked out across the Mississippi watching the people along the banks absently as they collected wood. "He had a father, I never even thought of him really having a father. I never really did, so I didn't put too much stock in it, hell—." He opened his mouth to complete the sentence. "I always," He began with a slight chuckle in his throat. "Kind of imagined he dropped out of the sky mother and fatherless." It was a flat out lie in many ways but he still laughed lightly as he looked over at Kagome a sparkle of mischief in his eyes. "I mean can you imagine him being a little boy, saying Mummy and Daddy?"
Kagome titled her head to the side, trying to imagine the Captain as a small boy, the image just wouldn't come.
"That ain't right." Sango said on Miroku's other side as she too tried to imagine a tiny version of the Captain. "The best I can think up is a smaller version of him that still cusses."
Kagome placed a hand over her mouth as she attempted to hold back her laugh at the image of a tiny Captain cussing up a storm filler her head. Her soft giggles died in her throat, however, as that image changed, morphing, as another bit of information filled her. A woman—a mother, the Captain's mother, she wouldn't have let her little boy curse. She had been dignified, refined, how else would she know how to play a violin? And if the mother was refined, then the father was most likely the same. It was very rare for people to marry outside of their social class, so it was safe to assume that the father was also a dignified and well educated person.
Still, how could this new information help her in understanding the Captain himself? She knew now that he did in fact have a mother and father like everyone should, his mother was a violinist and from the sound of her son when he was playing, she was a good one as well as a good teacher. Judging by the Captain's proper speech and his knowledge of propriety as well as his ability to both read and write in multiple languages, she could only assume that she had also educated him in other things. If the mother was any indication then she could also conclude that the father was also well versed in the arts of propriety and was also probably well educated.
And then there was this strange language that the Captain called his native language. Miroku had not given the language a name, he had merely called it just the native tongue of the Captain, could it be, that that language was really from the east?
"Western demons, they've all forgotten how to use their claws."
"The answer lies in the language itself. If I knew where it came from, then I would know where he came from as well." She glanced at Miroku and watched the man as he conversed more with Sango, the subject of their conversation unknown to her and unimportant to her current musings. "Mr. Miroku," She interrupted not caring if it wasn't proper.
"Hm?" Miroku turned to her not looking the least bit put off.
"That language," She began. "The one the Captain's teaching you, did he tell you it's name or origin?"
Miroku shook his head thoughtfully. "He told me I didn't need to know."
Kagome nodded her understanding before continuing on. "Does it sound like any language you've ever learned?"
"Not even close." Miroku told her as he crossed his arms over his chest in irritation. "It doesn't even have one single similarity to any of the other languages he taught me. The alphabet and the writing, it's all sorts of confusing." As Miroku spoke, something seemed to click inside of him, something important he had forgotten, slowly, he turned to Kagome, his eyes drifting to her shoulder. "Kagome," He addressed dropping all pretense of formality much to the surprise of both women, it was the first time he had ever addressed her by her first name. "Can I see the mark on your shoulder."
Instantly Kagome covered the mark with her hand, looking at Miroku timidly. "Why?"
"I think," He told her bluntly. "That mark has words under it, written in the Captain's native language."
Kagome's eyes snapped opened in surprise as she quickly pulled opened her jacket, moving her shirt to the side just as swiftly, her eyes going to the dog and the strange squiggly lines underneath it. "Those lines?"
Hastily Miroku stepped closer to her as did Sango, both of them looking at the strange marking on Kagome's shoulder. Miroku's eyes widened as he took it in, sure enough, without him being able to read it, he knew that it was from this strange language. "Kanji," he identified. He knew every symbol of the hiragana alphabet, so he knew that it had to be Kanji letters.
"Can you read it?" Sango inquired as she too stared at Kagome's shoulder.
"I'm afraid not." Miroku said as he leaned away from Kagome disappointed in himself. "I don't know enough yet to read it."
"I see." Kagome mumbled as she pulled her sleeve back up and refashioned her jacket, before she could speak again a loud cry rang out from the birds nest.
"I see the Port!" The man nestled among the mast yelled, signaling all hands to prepare for docking in New Orleans.
"This will have to wait till later." Miroku said hastily as he moved quickly to the staircase leading to the Quarter Deck, running down the steps hurriedly, on his way below deck to find the Captain who was currently hiding, from what Miroku was unsure.
Still standing on the helm's deck, Kagome watched the people bustling around her, preparing to dock. With trembling fingers she reached up and touched the fabric under which the mark and the dog laid. Gingerly her fingers massaged the clothes and her skin, absently reassuring herself, "This mark." She thought silently, the wind picking up her hair, pushing it around her temple. "It's a clue about you too, isn't it, Inuyasha?"
-break-
New Orleans was a world all its own, that was the only way Kagome could adequately describe it. The streets were packed with people of all races, backgrounds, classes, and states of dress. She had seen women in petticoats fitting of a French Monarch standing only a few daring feet away from women dressed in common rags.
And from those diverse people came a diversity of tongues she had never thought to hear. A thousand languages floated around her head, some easily recognizable, English and French for example and even the Spanish was familiar to her although she couldn't understand a word of it still. And underneath those familiar languages, whose words and phrases sounded more natural to her ears, there were others that didn't even sound like words but instead more like grunts or growls from bears, low deep bellows coming from the people's throats as if they were angry. And there were even some other languages she could hear underneath those harsh ones, languages that sounded so gentle, that she thought the language itself must have been the one renowned before Babel, an original language pure of all others, sweet and innocent.
"They're so—," Kagome found herself speaking out loud drawing the attention of the other members of her group around her, Sango, Miroku and the young lad Shippo at least. If the Captain was listening to her, he made no notion to say it was so, he merely kept walking (although one of his ears did turn just slightly in her direction.) "Diverse."
"I know!" Shippo chimed in before anyone else could speak, drawing all the adults down to his small form. It had been decided that Myoga needed a break from babysitting the young kit and so they had opted to bring the boy along. "I've been ta a lotta ports und this 'un always has ta most diffe't kinds of people!"
Kagome cringed slightly at the boy's ill pronunciation and horrid grammar, it even made her heart clench in her chest, the mere thought that such a smart boy could talk like Shippo did. She knew he was more than capable of learning if someone just sat down and taught him (an action she was currently undertaking), still, breaking five years of habit from a pirate ship was a difficult task. It would take some time for Shippo to relearn how to speak properly but it was a mission she was willing to take charge of, no matter how long it took but for now—she looked down at Shippo who was gazing around himself in awe of the shockingly diverse world of New Orleans and smiled—for now she would let it slide.
"Shippo, you speak like an ill bred dimwit."
That didn't mean everybody would.
The little boy froze, Kagome, Sango, and Miroku froze. That was the first thing the Captain had said all day, before now he had been unusually quiet, a fact they had all figured had something to do with a certain incident from the previous night. Still, it was the very first thing he had said to anyone all day and it was an insult directed at a little boy who was uneducated but in the process of learning, slowly.
Kagome turned to the small Shippo, whose little eyes had opened wide and filled with tears. He had been beaten, he had been terrorized, victimized, tortured by Hiten and Manten, he understood violence, he understood abuse, but he didn't understand words and the power that lay behind them. Manten and Hiten had not been psychological tormentors, no, they weren't smart enough for something like that. And thusly, Shippo had developed no skin for insults; he had no tough hid for anything like that. A punch he could take but words he could not.
So now, he stood still on the side of the street, his little face contorted as tears collected in green jade eyes. It broke Kagome's heart and also broke the chains that held her opinionated mouth in check.
"Captain!" Kagome's voice sounded out before she could even control herself, a wave of anger seeming to appear on her normally sweet features as she bent down picking up the small boy comforting him. "That was completely unnecessary!"
The man in question glanced over his shoulder at Kagome, his eyes fixating on her before looking down at the young Shippo, one eyebrow raised as he took in the sight of both her and the child, gazing at them as if he was seeing them for the very first time.
Everyone stood still, the sound of Shippo's hiccups and tears fading into the background as they stared at the Captain, taking in his face in the same way he was taking in Kagome and Shippo, as if they were seeing him for the first time. There were bags under his blank eyes, age lines plainly visible on a worried brow and a tight mouth. This was not the man they knew, this was a shell, someone merely speaking because they knew how to speak, someone merely walking because they knew how to walk, someone merely existing because they had found no means to change that fate.
"Captain?" Kagome whispered again, this time softly almost regretfully, as she stared at the man before he, taking in that hollowed face. Normally it was animated, normally it was lively and almost happy with a smirk that was permanent and gentle looks that he tried to hide beneath a brash exterior. Gone was that sparkle that always seemed to be in his eyes, that little look of mischief she had grown so used to and in its place was someone that scared her more than any blood thirsty pirate ever could. Someone who was dead in side, someone who was tired of living.
And then suddenly as if a switch or lever had been pressed and pulled, the smirk came back to his face, the bags under his eyes vanish and the wrinkles, the age lines that shadowed both brow and lips, disappeared as if they had never existed. "We're almost there." He said bluntly as he turned away from them, walking away as if the past few minutes had never occurred. "Hopefully that hag is still alive."
No one said another word, they didn't even bother to make a sound except the crying Shippo, the three adults were all too shocked to even open their mouths but that suited the Captain's current mood just fine. After all, New Orleans was a place of haunting memories. "It's changed." He mumbled under his breath so low that none of his confused companions heard his whisper. "How can something change so much in just fifty years?"
The landscape had indeed changed, accommodating a new era of people although the people were just as he remembered: diverse, and flamboyant. A mixture of every person you could ever expect to have been born; from German to Native, from English to African and yet they all appeared on good terms, just as they had back in the 20's. Inuyasha snorted at the thought—here where everyone accepted or at least tolerated those different from them, was the one place he had been tormented the most about his heritage. "How ironic." The voice in his head sounded, angry and bitter.
He gritted his teeth, closing his eyes as his body directed him down a path he knew well, to a place he had visited a million times. He could see it, up ahead, the marker that told him they were nearing their destination, it was a shop, a book shop.
Inuyasha walked the streets of New Orleans, his eyes eager as he studied the people running this way and that, negotiating with one another, the language of the French people hanging in the air, a language he knew well. Not sure what he wanted to do or even where he wanted to go, the young Captain simply wandered, stopping to gaze into the window of a bakery and butcher shop very briefly before turning to a fashion shop and then a book store; his love of books driving him to check out at least the displays in the window even though he had hardly enough money on him to buy a beer let alone a book.
Standing in that window he glanced over the covers, leather and bond with tight threads, their titles all ones he knew well. Moll Flanders, Robinson Crusoe, Paradise Lost, Don Quixote but then he saw one that he had never seen before, Gulliver's Travels.
Squinting Inuyasha looked underneath the title reading the small name of the author, "Swift?"Inuyasha leaned away surprised. "So he's written a new book," Biting his lip he reached into his pocket, removing the little money that was kept there. "I've got a shilling." He mumbled and looked back at the book, there was no way a shilling would buy it.
Expelling an irritated breath Inuyasha moved on, he would have to indulge in Swift at a later time. Shoulders drooping Inuyasha turned away from the store, his disappointment driving him to look for the only thing he could afford, a drink. Spotting a place that fit his needs he wandered across the street dodging horses and carriages as he made his way, to the door handle of a plan tavern—a tavern that held no great importance other than its contents.
Slowly he opened the door, a bell chiming above his head, the ringing hitting his ears hard causing them to flatten to his head. Wincing he shook himself and stepped inside, a gentle voice coaxing his ears back up.
"Peux-je t'aider?"
The voice was soft and warn, hitting his senses at all angle's touching him deeply as he looked towards the place that sound had come from. What he saw was a sight he had thought he would never forget. A woman—the single most amazing woman he had seen to date. She was beautiful—absolutely beautiful, long hair down to her waist, straight and midnight black, opaque eyes, round and wide, deep and contemplative, creamy delicate looking skin, white as a fluffy cloud, pink and tight lips drawn together in a forced smile.
Inuyasha opened his mouth unable to talk, his voice suspended completely in his throat, his whole personality frozen.
"Peux-je t'aider?" She asked, her eyes narrowing as she looked at him, scared by his strange behavior.
He gulped and licked his lips, nodding his head before he opened his mouth and spoke. "Tu prends des shilling anglais?" He managed to ask as he held up his one shilling piece for her to see, dumbly.
"Des shilling anglais, tu dis?" She asked as she tilted her head to the side, an amused, if not annoyed look on her face. "Je ne savais pas qu'il en existait d'autres."
"C'est parce qu'il en existe pas." Inuyasha said dumbly in answer, she smiled amused.
"Assie-toi," She said while pointing at a vacant chair at the bar. "Je prends tous ce que tu veux tant que ça ait de valeur."
Inuyasha glanced around, looking at the practically empty tavern and then back at the charming girl before him. And without a second thought, he walked to the stool and sat, not knowing that for the rest of his life, he would sit and wonder—alone—on why he had done such a stupid thing for only a pretty face.
The memory drifted away, the haunting ebbing for now as Inuyasha took in a sight he had vowed to never see again: Cunning's Tavern. He clutched his fist at his side, the pressure in his heart far greater than he had thought it would be. This was the moment of truth, this was the moment he had been dreading.
Discretely he glanced at the stunning Kagome Dresmont behind him, her face, her eyes, her hair, her vivacious curvy body, the innocent look that glowed on her face. They looked nothing alike and yet were twins. The eyes, the mouth, the nose, the ears, even the lips—they were superficially identical but the girl—the girl—she was all her own, wasn't she? The way Kagome smiled, the way her smile lit her whole face, sparkling in her deep grey bluish eyes—that was different. The way she laughed, the way that laugh seemed to bubble from some innocent mirth-filled place within her—that was different. The way she danced, as if she was floating above the ground, delighted at the chance to fly—that was different. And the way she played the violin, the fact she wanted to learn, the fact she trusted him to teach her— that was different.
"She can't be that same girl," He told himself as images of both women floated in his mind, daring him, mocking him, messing with him. "But, they look so much alike and—it can't just be a coincidence." It couldn't, it just couldn't. "Please," Inuyasha heard himself whisper. "For the first time in my life, I want to be completely wrong." Every step he took seemed to last an eternity, echoing in his head, a silent mantra of things to come. Every fall of his boot seeming to time with the rapid beating of his torn heart. "Please," He whispered so low that not even a full fledge dog demon would have heard his words. "Please." The timing of his feet sounded like thunder to his sensitive ears, the world's largest clock tolling at midnight, begging for the times to change. "Please be wrong." The sound of her feet touching down behind him hit him like a landward storm. "Onegai, kami-sama." Inuyasha found himself whispering, asking for a favor in a language he had neglected to use for years. "Kami-sama." He whispered again his eyes squeezed shut tightly, afraid of what he might see. "Onegai!"
He knew they had reached their destination, eyes closed and all. He had long ago memorized exactly how many steps he took between books and girl. Slowly, he opened his eyes, taking in that wooden door—it had not changed, it hadn't changed in fifty years. He could almost see himself opening it that first time, a double image, mirroring the him that stood there now. He looked the same back then, he had not changed in fifty years, the door had not changed in fifty years, the bookstore had not changed, the people had not changed—the only thing that had changed was the girl he had come to see: the younger sister.
Had she changed?
Swallowing the lump in his throat he pushed the door open, he heard the blood rush through his ears silencing everything around him, sequestering himself in the moment he now was living.
He could hear the demon in the back of his mind yelling at him, he could hear it snarl, screaming that they should leave, that this was a bad idea, that he was a fool for coming, for taking this horrid chance. And Inuyasha found himself hard pressed not to listen—he had never wanted to run from anything more than he wanted to run from this door. This door that held two possibilities—two very distinct possibilities, two possibilities that he was afraid to face. Yet, now was the time to face them, the time to face that one truth that the younger sister would tell him, now was the time to face the ghost that laid within both his heart and this old tavern.
The squeaking of old wood filled the air as the tavern door slowly moved, opening wide allowing a strange square of light to come into the darkened depths of an old but well loved place of merriment. That light traveled, hitting every corner, touching every surface until it came to rest on an old woman, with graying hair and a patch that covered one worn out eye. She turned, her expression somber but then filled with disbelief and apparent surprise.
"Kikyo?" The old woman gasped, the glass she had been holding slipping through old fingers, shattering on the wooden floor, the name on her lips echoing, hitting every recess just as the light had before it, it was a nightmare that was now truly a haunting reality.
"Fuck."
End of Chapter
Please Review
Edited for content 5/26/2011, 8/1/2012, 8/14/2012
Bonus Point:
How did Kaede hurt her eye causing her to wear the patch?
Last Chapter's Bonus Point:
The answer is episode 31 "Jinenji, Kind yet Sad." And the second actual episode dialogue comes from episode 1, "I want to touch them." That's classic yasha! Congrats to all winners:
Nicestories, Byss, inu-luva123, glon morski, blackandwhite125 (Thanks for RADASS made my day!), Warm-Amber92, InuKag4eva, AriaLuvsInu, Purple Dragon Ranger, MissieMae, ravenreux
Japanese Translation:
Itsu watashi ga saigo no Oyagi, anata o dō omoimasu ka? When did I last think of you, father?
Inuyasha wa, kakikomi. Inuyasha, write.
Onegai, Kami-sama Please, lord god. (This translation of Kami-sama is debatable)
French Translation:
Peux-je t'aider? "Sir, can I help you?"
Tu prends des shilling anglais? "Do you take an English shilling?"
Des shilling anglais, tu dis? "An English shilling?"
Je ne savais pas qu'il en existait d'autres. "I was not aware there was another kind."
C'est parce qu'il en existe pas. "There isn't."
Assie-toi, je prends tous ce que tu veux tant que ça ait de valeur. "Sit, we take anything you have as long as its valuable.
Grammar Notes:
This grammar lesson is very basic, it does not include a lot of recognized modern parts of speech because during the late 1700's the average person would not be educated well enough to know about verb stems and participles and all that jazz, even a smarty like Inuyasha ^^
I will not be including the modern katakana alphabet. This alphabet was created in the 9th century meaning Inuyasha could have learned it, however, Inuyasha will not know of its existence for certain unrevealed storyline reasons.
Also, note that the Japanese actually do not use '?' but instead create questions using the hiragana sound 'ka' at the end of the sentence. To avoid confusion I will still use question marks since my audience is English speaking!
Next Chapter:
The Younger Sister (corrected 5/25/2011)
See you then!
UNEDITED
POSTED 5/25/2011