Disclaimer: None of the characters from Inuyasha, the television series or the

graphic novels, belong to me. They are property of Rumiko Takahashi. The

only characters that belong to me are Amaya, Shihya, and the villagers Amaya

refers to in the intro.

Night Rain

By XRainGoddessX

Introduction

Masked Cruelty: Amaya's Story

My name is Amaya. It means "night rain". It was the name my mother gave me

when I first entered this world through her, because the first thing my eyes fixed on was

the rain pounding against the window in our modest hut. My family were simple villagers

living by a dense forest. We wanted nothing to do with the outside world. It wanted

nothing to do with us.

My story is not that of a righteous martyr fighting a glorious battle against the

forces of evil. It is not a glamorous tale of a girl gifted with magnificent powers and

abilities, for I have neither. It is not a tale that mothers will tell their children before

they fall asleep; and the heroine, if you can call me that, is not a wise, patient, infinately

strong and self-sacrificing maiden that young girls will model themselves after. I wish I

could say that in spite of all this, at the end of the tale the girl gains true happiness and

perfect love, and lives happily ever after. Needless to say, my tale is not for the faint of

heart. If you seek faery tales you will have to find them somewhere else.

My father was a great warrior, and a very respected man of our village. Because

of this, the insults and whispers directed at me were always carefully veiled from my

sight, but I was more than aware of them by the time I was eight. Since my birth, it was

said that I was a witch and a demon; when the midwife first saw me, she shrieked that a

youkai had come into the village. This was mostly owing to my eyes. My mother said

nothing of them, but I could see her flinch whenever she let her eyes linger on mine.

My eyes were the color of freshly spilled blood,and the villagers murmered that they

were a youkai's eyes. I don't know what twist of fate gave them to me. They don't

seem to have done anything for me, really. Once, when looking at the other children

playing happily by their mothers, I almost wished I was a youkai, just so that I would

make sense, that I would have some place in this world.

But that was not for me. I was shunned by the other children on account of

my infernal eyes. They seemed to stop what they were doing and back away

nervously whenever I came near. They called my mother a whore, and called me

a filthy, black hearted youkai. So I found my own ways to amuse myself. I played

on my own in the forest, getting to know the plants and the animals, calling them

by my own thought up names. By the time I turned thirteen, I knew the woods

better than I knew my own village. My father had insisted on teaching me to defend

myself; he trained me to use fists and feet, the unarmed style of combat. It was just

a passing whim to him. He had wanted a son to teach this to, but instead he was

cursed with a daughter, and my mother became barren not long after my birth. In this

way, I served as a substitute son for him, although he stopped teaching me by the time

I was twelve. I suppose it was because I was female, and it was 'improper' for a female

to be strong. I practiced anyway, though, and by the time I was thirteen I could have

beaten any boy my age into the dust easily, and found uses for this talent on several

occasions, making myself even more unpopular, though I had long stopped caring about

that. My father had always been a role model to me, a hero. That was why

I didn't pay heed to the strange way he began to stare at me.

Most of the girls I had once known were now married. I didn't envy them.

Their fathers gave them away to whoever would pay the most; their maidenhoods

were sold to any man who had a few gold pieces, or a fat pig. I had seen them

screaming and pleading with their fathers to not marry them to these disgusting

men; in one case, a father held his kataana to his daughter's throat and forced

her to accept the proposal.

My father would never do this to me, I was certain. So I ignored the

violent fights my parents always seemed to have on my account; I ignored the

way father always seemed to be debating angrily with one of the aforementioned

brutes over the price of some precious item, then bring the conversation to a

close whenever I drew near. I was completely unsuspecting up until the point

father called me to his side at a midsummer celebration. I stood before him

expectingly, waiting for him to explain why I was needed.

"Amaya," he said haltingly, nervously. "You know that most of the

other maids of our village have now become wives and mothers."

"Yes," I said, laughing, "And I have never seen a more miserable face

than that of a married girl. Why do you speak of this, father?"

He didn't smile back- his face was graver than I remembered seeing

it. "You have started your monthly bleeding, haven't you?"

I blushed furiously, but nodded, wondering where he was going with

this. It was unheard of for a father to speak of these things to his daughter.

"Good. You're ready, then."

"Ready for what?"

But he didn't answer me. He was already calling the rest of the

villagers to attention. They stopped what they were doing, looking up

interestedly. He called a large, ogreish man to his side, as I watched in

confusion and apprehension, the man with a stupid smile plastered on his face.

"Good people!" He called. "I am proud to announce to you, on this

holy night, the marriage of my daughter, Amaya, to this Ojiko!" The crowd

clapped politely and returned to their activities, as I stood, horrified, too

stunned to speak. The disgusting Ojiko grinned at me and winked. It was

then that I got my voice back.

"F-Father!" I cried, fear in my eyes, pleading in my voice.

He turned to me, and there was no pity in his expression, no regret

for his only child. I realized then what my father had always been. I couldn't

hide it from myself. The man I had looked up to and loved for my entire

childhood was no different from the revolting men of the village that abused

the miserable women that had once been innocent children.

I turned and ran- Ojiko grabbed my arm and pulled me close, laughing.

I cannot describe the hate and revulsion I felt in those few moments, as this

man kept me held tight to him, the man that would take my childhood away,

turn me into one of those poor souls that were so common throughout our

village- crying in the doorways by day, and forced to give pleasure to the same

men that beat them by night.

I hit him as hard as I could with my elbow, a sharp jab into his stomach.

He doubled over for a moment; he then went on to hit me with the back of his

hand on the side of my face, leaving large, ugly bruises that would stay there for

months. He then threw me aside, saying "Behave yourself, wench, and I may

forgive you before our wedding night."

I ran to my mother, crying, begging her to make everything better.

She did nothing. She did her best to console me, saying that it wouldn't have

to be as bad as I thought, but she needn't have bothered. I knew the truth as

well as she did- My father had arranged for me to be raped by a sick brute,

and my mother was too much of a coward to do anything to help. Terrified

would be an understatement for the way I felt. There are no words for the

way I felt- I had been used to being alone, and the mere thought of people

scared me. Now I was being sent to the bed of a man that I barely knew.

The more I thought of becoming a poor, helpless wretch like the

other women of our village, the more the idea repulsed me. So I decided

to run. I'm not proud of what I did. It made me feel like a coward, something

I had vowed never to be, but I decided that this was better than the alternative,

becoming like my mother.

I took only what I could carry, and left my home the way I'd entered

it- during the night, in the rain. I've never missed the village where I was

born, strange as that may sound. Seeing my parents for what they really

were erased any regret I may have felt; it hardened something in me,

allowing me to see people for what they really are. I've avoided them ever

since, cutting them away from me along with any emotions that I had left.

People are disgusting. They hide their true natures behind masks of friendship

and kindness, only to show their cruelty and cowardice when it is convenient

for them. I have no plans for my future. I only wish to live in peace in the

woods that I love. I have been wandering aimlessly for three years. I am

not happy, but not sad, either. I am mortal, and I know that someday death

and old age will come to claim me. I often find myself longing for that day.

I now know that I will wander here until I die. Nothing can change that,

can it?

Ok, end of intro. Please review! I'll update it soon!