I had a kingly house at my command;
grievous the evil choice that disgraced me, grievous.
The chastisement of crime that has withered me:
Alas! My hand is not clean.
-11th century Irish Anon.
Chapter 7- A Rising Sun at Daybreak
Her eyes were closed, but her lashes fluttered lightly against her cheeks, the lids trying to keep in the night and fend off the strip of daylight that had fallen directly across them. After a moment, Sango opened her eyes with a squint, trying to shield her dark adapted eyes from the morning's brightness, allowed into their quiet room by an open shoji door. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and began to stretch, disrupting Kirara's sleep and edging her off the futon with a halfhearted growling noise. As Sango stood, the cat resumed her curled up position, and Sango tucked her feet up, quickly checking her surroundings. It seemed like it was still relatively safe. Though Kigiku-sama had said they could stay the night, she had a vague worry that the plants still wrapped around the roofbeams of their room may not agree with their temperamental hostess' kindness.
Kagome was still sleeping, a hand under her cheek, while Shippou was sprawled out, mouth open and arms flung wide. Standing, she peered around the room's partition, not really expecting to see Inuyasha there. As she assumed, the hanyou was already up and moving from his corner. Miroku, too, was gone, and as she absently patted down her sleep mussed hair, she heard the faint shuffling of papers again, the same sound she fell asleep to.
Through the crack in the shoji, where the light had flooded in to wake her, she saw an arm stretch past, setting something down, and then retreat beyond her vision. Careful to step quietly, she slipped across the varnished floor and slid the door open a bit more, finding Miroku surrounded by what seemed to be all of the drawings they found yesterday. A cascade of white sheaves were spilling off his lap, puddling on the verandah around him, and slipping down the steps just outside their door. His shakujou was resting against the railing, rings clinking lightly in the morning breeze.
It was slightly humid, though not enough to actually rain. Dew was scattered across the grasses of the yard, facets glittering in the early morning light, as the rosy dawn began to crest the tops of the trees. A spiderweb she hadn't noticed the night before was gleaming in silvery tones above her head, shivering in the cool air.
At first he didn't seem to notice her presence, but when she bent down to pick up some of the sketches he was examining, the disruption of his disorganized pile startled him from concentrating on the two pictures he was holding at that particular moment. "Ohayo," Sango greeted him, then looked at the two sketches she had selected. "Looking through the drawings?"
He nodded, a thoughtful frown on his face as he brushed a few of the papers aside, motioning for her to join him in sitting. "Ohayo, and yes. Something was bothering me last night, and I think I've finally found out what."
Miroku was holding out one of the sketches out for her, and her curiosity piqued, she knelt down beside him and accepted it, scanning the picture. This particular one was covered in several lightly stenciled sketches, though they surrounded a small but intricate portrait of a chrysanthemum, a tiny body inserted into the cup of the bloom, eyes downcast and sorrowful. Long hair draped over her arms, and her hands were delicately poised at her sides, a tiny, perfect picture of unnatural loveliness.
"It's Kigiku-sama," Sango stated, not really seeing why this is unusual. Kigiku had told them many artists came to draw her, so if these pictures were of her, that wasn't surprising. When she said that, a half smile formed on Miroku's face, and he pointed at the flower, tapping it with a finger.
"Look again."
A consternated frown formed on her lips as she looked a second time, also scanning over the other pictures, this time paying more attention to detail. All were ink sketches, lightly brushed by the same talented hand. In black and white, Kigiku's hair was only shaded, the glossy white of it dominating her hair. A bit bewildered, she asked, "What am I looking for? Kigiku-sama's hair is white, but it looks..." she trailed off, and didn't see the satisfied smile on Miroku's face form.
She was frowning thoughtfully, the curve of
her dark hair curving smoothly around the contour of her white cheek, the
puzzlement of her expression half hidden. It was a beautiful morning, for
all he had spent the night dozing, only to have his head snap up again,
causing wakefulness. It had been tempting to try to wake her to help him
search, though since he didn't know what to look for himself, it seemed
pointless, and it was better for her to rest, since she wasn't restless
anyway. He had watched the sunrise, and saw the tiny watery prisms form
across the wild lawn from the morning dew. Now, he watched her eyes roam
across the page and knew she would find what had taken him so long to realize.
The night was over now, and though he knew it was better to let her sleep,
he regretted not having her there.
Running a finger over the picture, she moved
from the shading of the youkai plant's hair to the bloom her body was settled
in. Kigiku had many pale yellow petals surrounding her, enfolding her little
body within them. Rather than the heavy petticoat of long, curled layers,
there lay drawn a simpler array, the petals drawn up around her carefully,
some of them hidden in the perspective of the drawing, but there were distinctly
fewer petals, shorter and less fanciful.
"Houshi-sama, this isn't Kigiku-sama?" she
half asked, a bit unsure. Whoever had drawn the picture must have at least
seen a youkai flower such as Kigiku in order to draw such an unusual
creature. If this wasn't Kigiku, then who was it? "The blossom is different."
Taking the picture back from Sango, he scanned it again, nodding at her discovery. "It took me half the night to realize it, and it was right in front of my face. I kept doing what you did, looking at her rather than the bloom."
"So it's not Kigiku-sama. Who is it of?"
He frowned and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I have no idea. Either the artist drew one of the resident women in the flower for some reason which I do not know, or there is another lady chrysanthemum out there with what I would guess to be..." he quickly tallied up the number of visible petals, "...sixteen petals. I doubt the first option, since it is the body is what is so different. Whoever this is does seem to resemble Kigiku-sama."
"Which would mean she didn't tell us everything," Sango surmised, flipping through more of the pictures. Some of them were sketches other than the sixteen petaled chrysanthemum, though now that she was paying attention to the strain of plant, she noticed that the majority of the pictures matched the one including the unidentified thumb sized body. "Why though?"
Miroku shook his head with a frown. "I don't know. I decided I'm going to go back into the garden and talk to her."
Her head snapped up from where she was engrossed in the drawings, eyes widening before they drew down into a suspicious glare. Sango set aside the papers and folded her arms. "Oh? Kigiku-sama kicked us out last night. What makes you think she'll let you back in to talk?"
A vague smile formed on Miroku's face, and he shrugged noncommittally. "I think it was mostly Inuyasha she disliked. Besides, our gracious hostess didn't seem to mind the rest of us."
"You mean she didn't seem to mind you," Sango told him sourly, a frown deepening on her features. Kigiku had taken one look at the human, male, non-pottymouthed member of the group, and promptly changed her entire attitude to accommodate. Miroku of course just fed into the whole thing, flirting with her and stroking her already oversized ego. So what if she was pretty? She was a youkai, and a tiny one at that. What could be possibly be thinking, anyway?
She blinked in surprise when Miroku pulled her hands out from where she had folded them, enclosed them in his, and told her with the utmost seriousness: "Don't worry, Sango. I'll always return to you."
A bright red blush instantly rose to her cheeks as her eyes rounded, desperately trying to come up with some sharp retort to that. Unfortunately, the statement was disconcerting, and all she could lamely splutter was, "You...don't sound so ridiculous!" She snatched her hands out of his, shifting nervously and trying to remember to breathe normally.
His eyebrows lifted, and he tilted his head to the side for a moment, considering her reaction and feeling oddly pleased by it. Replacing a smile with a modest shrug, he stood and picked up his shakujou, ringing with the motion. "I'm going to see if I can get through to her, and maybe find out something about our mysterious model," he told her as he bent down and picked up the tiny portrait, which had slid off of Sango's lap when he took her hands. She was still a bright shade of red, lips pursed as she tried to fight off a mixture of half formed anger and embarrassment. What made him say things like that?
"I won't be long," he added after a moment, and Sango finally sighed, giving up for the time being as he moved towards the overgrown section of the backyard. She supposed he'd just try to beat his way through the shrubbery with the shakujou, though it was still going to be a difficult job of it. If she got hiraikotsu, she probably could hack her way through them the way she had last night. Despite that, the concept of watching the sukebe working on flirting fouled up her helpful mood. He did have a point...if that was not Kigiku in the picture, who was it?
Normally it wouldn't bother her too much- it was just a picture, after all- but the nagging feeling in the back of her mind was prodding at her, reminding her that Kigiku was the only one who could talk or was awake here...hundreds of sleeping people was not a normal event, and finding the reason why was something she wanted to know. It reminded her too much of home....
Shaking her head slightly, she watched as he
tossed up droplets of dew, his form disappearing in the pale morning mist.
It didn't take long for Miroku to decide Kigiku really did not want anyone returning. He'd been half hoping that she would relent overnight, and the botany would have settled itself down to a more normal level of jungleness. Flattery, he hoped, would get him everywhere. Carefully, Miroku tucked the drawing of the mysterious youkai plant into his robes, and braced himself against the creeping vines heading his way, seemingly on automatic attack mode once he passed the initial line of tree foliage.
"Kigiku-sama!" he found himself calling out, fending off the sharp rose thorns with his shakujou, hoping she would hear him through the muffling flora. "I was hoping to see you this morning, if you wouldn't mind the company!"
A few panicked moments later, the vines began to recede, and Miroku breathed a little more easily as a path began to form, thick fronds curtaining apart for him to pass, leading him around a new route to the flower beds, the blooms fragrant with the heavy morning dew. Today, he took a slightly more cautious look around the garden as he emerged into the better tended area, unobtrusively sweeping his eyes across the other strains of flower, searching for something pale, a field of white against the green and many colored blossoms, a handful of pale pink sakura drifting idly through the air and twirling. Shrubbery and rose bushes obscured the hill opposite of Kigiku's planted place, cloaking most of the area from view, though it was subtly different from how he remembered it to look the night before. Wisteria had wound its way through the shrubbery, and poppies bloomed freshly underfoot, peppering the pathway. Kigiku, in control of all the plant life, had been opening and closing various trails through the underbrush, so presumably everything inside the garden was shifting almost constantly.
Rustling interrupted his quick search, and from the edge of the pond, one of the yellow chrysanthemums rose above the others, Kigiku's little body unfolding from within the cup of petals, her hands cupping a glimmering drop of water. She breathed a deep breath, as though inhaling the sweet morning air, and he watched the droplet of dew fade from her hands, though more rested on her petals. Then, with a charming smile, she opened her eyes and greeted him. "Ohayo, houshi-sama. You almost interrupted my morning bath!"
"Ah, forgive me, Kigiku-sama," Miroku replied with a polite bow, before he moved to kneel closer to the pale yellow flower. The morning mist was evaporating off the pond behind her, coiling around her court of other chrysanthemums, creating a silvery haze. "I would hate to disrupt you."
Kigiku's hand flew to her cheek, affecting bashfulness as she looked up at him through her lashes. "No, you aren't disrupting me at all, houshi-sama. I'm glad you returned, it is so nice to have intelligent company again," she finished dreamily, beaming up at him.
"Your image was haunting me most of the night, Kigiku-sama, and I did wish to see you again before we had to leave," he told her honestly, though without much elaboration. Her image had been bothering him, though not for the reason she seemed to be accepting it as, and he was pleased to see her blush deepen and her shy away. He doubted that she was very embarrassed, since she sought most of the compliments herself, but it was, after all, an overly polite and ladylike mannerism. Miroku was also glad Sango was not there at the moment, considering she probably would be severely whacking him in the head soon. "And seeing you now, fresh in the morning, it was truly worth the wait of the night." He could see Sango's face now, utterly livid and hands reaching for hiraikotsu....
Kigiku's emerald eyes were starry. "Ah, houshi-sama, you must be a true aesthetic, even if you don't write poetry."
"All the haiku in the land would only begin
to do your beauty justice." And the boomerang comes crashing down on the
back of his head! In reality, Miroku tried not to flinch.
However, the flower was unaware of his mental
wonderings, and was devouring the praise greedily, a pleasantly demure
look on her lovely features. "You are too kind, houshi-sama," she preened.
"And not only are you beautiful, but powerful as well," he continued as sweetly as he could, gesturing broadly at the thick, thorny vines surrounding most of the sequestered portion of the garden. "It must be amazingly difficult for one as delicate as yourself to control so many plants...it is a true gift."
Kigiku's flush faded, and her head tilted slightly to the side as she considered him with a thoughtful expression, somehow different from the other looks he had seen her wear this morning and last night. The vanity seemed to fade away for a moment as she seemed to be considering carefully her answer. For a moment, beneath all the posturing and careful flirtation, he saw someone slightly different, still a miniature, though a delicate little creature without acting. She seemed sad somehow, and as she looked away from him, her hands were carelessly resting against the curls of her petaled body. "I am a youkai," she began, voice soft and slightly lilting, eyes not meeting his. "It is not a gift. They must listen to me, for I am stronger than they. That is all."
Miroku leaned back slightly, uncertainly. That was the first time Kigiku had spoken so candidly, particularly without making anything out of her control of the garden and its surrounding areas. Perhaps this would be a better time to ask her about the strange, unidentified drawing they found, if she was being unusually candid. On the other hand, she may simply get angry that he would ask about another youkai chrysanthemum, particularly one who had so many drawings made of her.
He hung his head, nodding sadly in agreement. "It must be difficult for you, living here all alone for so long. It is terrible that there is no way to awaken the people of the castle."
Faced away, her eyes slid carefully to see him kneeling before her, an honest looking expression of pity on his face. "It is a curse caused by a youkai," she sighed after a moment, shaking her head. "Sleeping spells...they are cast quickly, a poisonous youki in the air. There is not much to be done for such a thing." She placed a hand to her lips, nails pressing sharply into her skin as her brows drew together in thought. After a moment, Kigiku shook her head as though to clear it, and turned back to Miroku, a small smile returning again as she said cheerily, "But someday, I'm sure the curse will be lifted, when my lord returns for me." The smile faded a bit with uncertainty. "It will just have to wait until then. I suppose I'm supposed to stay alone and unloved."
"But Kigiku-sama, your loveliness will always be remembered," he assured her solemnly. "My companions and I stayed in one of the empty rooms of the donjon, feeling it inappropriate to move any of the castle's citizens from where they slept. It seemed like we stumbled into the rooms of some of the artists," he set aside his shakujou and fumbled for the rolled up portrait in his robe. "I found many lovely drawings of you. I must say, this one is unique though, since the others seemed to not include your beautiful face." A moment later, be produced the scroll, unfurling it and holding it open for her to see.
A tiny frown flicked across her mouth for a moment, then vanished as she shook her head and sighed. "Ara, houshi-sama...we look much alike, but that is not me. See the petals? My sister has only sixteen. She is terribly plain."
With a shocked expression, Miroku flipped the paper over to examine it again, running a finger over the image. "You're right! Only sixteen, and they are shorter than yours, Kigiku-sama. Forgive my inattention to the details...I fear there are reasons I am not an artist," he sighed dramatically.
Kigiku smiled for a moment, letting out a light laugh. "You don't need to apologize so profusely, houshi-sama...she is plain, I suppose, but there are those who like pure simplicity...." Kigiku reached for the edge of the paper, turning it back over so she could see the image painted there. Then she arched an eyebrow up at Miroku. "You brought this here to ask me why my sister is gone, did you not? It is too convenient you should just happen to have this drawing with you. What is it you wish to know?"
A bit defeated, Miroku took the paper back from her, since it seemed like his efforts at subterfuge had just been exposed. If she saw through him, then it may be better to keep things a bit more honest. "Another youkai chrysanthemum, with pictures drawn of her...though it is you that we found last night. I couldn't help but wonder why this one...your sister, you say? I can't help but wonder why she, too, is not awake."
Kigiku folded her arms across her chest, a deep frown marring her features. "She was also a member of the court here, subject to the daimyo. She was brought here first, which is why I'm sure you found many pictures of her within the donjon and the daimyo's quarters." Kigiku shrugged, then began to arrange her petals, scooping up one of the reflective droplets of water from her bloom and began to gaze into its crystalline surface, her image reflected but distorted. "She sleeps as they do." Her eyes flicked up towards Miroku's, then she tried to peer around him. Following her look, he turned to see a darker thicket of rose thorns. "Beyond the hedge, there. We were good friends, once...until she told the daimyo that my lord was a youkai. I can't forgive her...I closed her away behind the roses." Then, abruptly, Kigiku added, "She is still there."
It was an odd twist to the story Kigiku had already told them. Why would this other chrysanthemum have told the daimyo the young Naraku was a youkai, if she herself was one as well? Why would it matter to her, unless she sensed something sinister about Naraku? Very possible, but Kigiku seemed to have no problems with him. He glanced at Kigiku, who was picking up another bead of dew, adding it to the first and breathing lightly upon it. Slowly, incredibly slowly, a thread of mist was coiling away from her hands, drifting out into the air and hovering around her.
"Houshi-sama, I am sorry, but I must ask you to go. It was nice speaking with you, but I wish to be alone now..." she turned a weak smile on him as the vapor curled outward on a faint wind. "You were very kind to me, and I truly do appreciate that. Please, leave now."
The words were a clear dismissal, and so he stood, quickly picking up his shakujou again and backing away. Rather than the menacing rustling revealing her anger the previous night, the garden had become deathly still, leaves and vines stiffly unmoving, though the path he had walked to arrive at the reflective pond remained open. The pond itself continued to ripple in the wind, lapping at the reedy banks silently.
"As you wish, Kigiku-sama," he agreed, backing away a step and bowing politely. "I believe we will be leaving this morning, as well."
She was no longer paying attention to him,
settling back into the folds her petals, sinking into the surrounding blossoms
with her. After a moment, she disappeared, trails of mist still trickling
across the grass. He folded the sketch of Kigiku's 'sister,' tucking it
again into his robes, and hurried back down the path, in case Kigiku changed
her mind about allowing him safe conduct from her garden. Her words had
filled in many discrepancies in the story, though the simple fact that
it was Naraku who brought her here kept him on edge. Perhaps it would be
best to retreat for a time....
~o~O~o~o~O~o~o~O~o~o~O~o~
I finally got to a bit of Mirosan waff...^.~
Love them. Anyway, I kind of had fun using Miroku's flirtation skills against
Kigiku...heh.
Til next time!
~Queen