AN: I am going to try to see if I can get this marriage ceremony right…
Disclaimers: I don't own anything really mentioned in this story.
Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
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Sesshoumaru set down the bamboo brush that he was using to write a long and detailed letter to a possible ally against his brother. Although the man was nearly unheard of up until recently, he was quickly gathering power from deep in the Alps. Such an area would be of great use to him. There were many scattered and fertile valleys in the vicinity in which all the advantage of growing such crops as rice, melons, and off all delights: plums and sweet peaches. The isolated quality to the area that was beneficial. It surrounded by mountains, which, if his brother ever decided to try to puncture, would have no such luck.
This man, or demon (it wasn't made quite sure to him which) seemed very happy to acquire such an ally as him; yet the enthusiasm was perhaps a bit misleading. He felt a vague feeling of uncertainty, a thing, which although rare, demanded further contemplation. Another point, which did irk him about the man, was his choice of name he had given himself. At times it seemed to overdone in its glory, while at other times it seemed a sick and sad imitation of some other, greater, wiser war lord. Who would choose such a name as Naraku?
Now he found himself gazing down at the steep drop and the surrounding vista that surrounded his chamber. Tonight his brother would take a wife and this in itself was amusing, as well as slightly disgusting. His brother had stepped lower than his own mutt species to procreate with the likes of a human. No doubt, the child, if there was one, would be born human, or with less demon blood than his father. His family heritage was slowly sinking in the ranks, and it was up to him to make sure his house remained one of the most feared and envied of the youkai.
Drawing the blade from its sheath, he studied the old and bent piece of metal. This, which he held in his hands, was all his father had thought to give him. This was his love. An old, bent, and rusty sword.
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The sun rose gently over the nearby mountain slopes. Slowly, ever slowly, the mounds and shadows were illuminated as it worked its way across the morning sky. Today, she sighed, she would become someone else's property, as was her destiny. Placing down her most prized chataku cup she gazed at it tenderly. She could bring few possessions to her new household, except for her elaborate kimonos, which, like so many other things, she would have to wear everyday for her married life. Gifts and toys of her childhood would be burned, precious letters and books as well. She was to begin over, a new and happy life. A new and economically sound life.
Long ago, she gave up the childish idea of being married for love. To run away would do no good. They would have found her, brought her back, and shame would have been cast onto her family. With wealth came the burden of having to marry to acquire more such wealth, as the Higurashi family would eventually do. To marry was something all women would have to ultimately, and this fact was unavoidable. It was miraculous that she had managed to live until she was 19 without being wed. Her best friend had been married at age 13, a most typical and respectable age for most nobles. She was an old maid compared to most and what a blessing it had been when the respected Lord Inuyasha had asked for her hand in marage.
A blessing to some… and a curse for others.
Of course, they had never met before in their life, but this was conveniently overlooked. Her parents would have protection and profits from her future husband, he would, of course, get weapons to keep the other warlords at bay, and she would have a life of luxury with one of the richest men in all of Japan.
It had been the day of the first New Year as a servant escorted her to the nearest Shinto shrine that she was to be engaged to the man. Of course, Kagome was not directly told by her parents until a month ago when the preparations had begun. Clothes had been made, burned—the house had brought in landscapers, she had been put on a strict diet, routine and friendlessness was beginning like the oncoming spring.
It had been the first day of the New Year as she made her yearly pilgrimage to the shrine to pray for a long life and happiness.
This was the way things were done. This was her happiness she would be forced to swallow.
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Miroku glanced up from a new novel he was reading as his master entered the room. Bowing quickly, he soon found that his gesture of honor had been waved away as Inuyasha slumped to the ground in a most ungraceful and childish way. His face was that of anger, and frustration. No doubt, Miroku thought, the fatal blow of telling him his marriage was tomorrow was beginning to have consequences.
"Good morning, Inuyasha-sama." Miroku found himself murmuring as he began to read the novel again.
The lord grumbled or mumbled something and fidgeted slightly.
"Is this something bothering you, Inuyasha-sama?" Miroku questioned again. Really, it was too much fun to poke at him this way. Of course there was something wrong, and most likely it would take years to adjust to the change. Yet, in reality, marriage was not as big a deal as he made it out to be. In the way of nobles and lords like Inuyasha it was commonly thought to visit the wife only at nights, for obvious reasons, and as soon as the morning sun rose he could once again tramp off to the muddy battlefield. The wife would remain contentedly at home, and all would once again be well.
At least, this was what Miroku hoped. It was only until he had sent of the engagement letter a month ago that he began to hear the rumors of the girl that would soon be his lords. What first worried Miroku were her looks—and, why yes, everyone agreed she was a most beautiful lady. Miroku had questioned then if she was smart, for although he preferred his women on the slightly stupid side, Inuyasha, eventually, would have liked someone who he could talk to about the realities of war. His master wanted an equal. He knew that Inuyasha very much locked his emotions inside heart, and perhaps the two could complain together, or something to that affect. Well then, Miroku had questioned, what had been the problem? Was she not smart? Was she not beautiful? Ah, but the servant added, she was a free spirit and would not bow down to her husband as readily as some.
This did pose a problem.
However, Miroku was sincerely glad his lord was a hanyou, although half human, he was certain his demon side could scare her into submissiveness. If not, than that was Inuyasha's problem. With power came great problems. Marriage was just another one along the road of life.
"Are you sure there isn't another way to get weapons?" Inuyasha grumbled as he poured himself a cup of tea that Miroku had brought. Miroku found himself chuckling, much against his will, and he answered, "Well…There are other weapons manufacture's to be sure, unfortunately one has a son and the other one has a seven year old daughter."
Inuyasha sighed in defeat, as he thought aloud, "It won't be so bad. I mean, she is a woman, how bad could she be? Once the winter snows melt I can be out of the house nearly all day, and she can stay at home and do whatever…whatever women do."
Miroku thought dryly to himself; women, especially noble women, do nothing. The poor creatures—they really did have no way to escape.
"Have you prepared the house for her arrival?" Inuyasha stammered a bit forcefully hiding his face behind the teacup. Miroku nodded and began to list off all, which had been done, in order to prepare for this most joyous event. "Remember my Lord, when you do sleep in your chambers tonight, try to keep them clean. After all, tomorrow two will be sharing such a room."
His master blinked, and then, his face contorted, "Eh? What the hell are you talking about?!"
"Well, Inuyasha-sama…it is, to say, it is common for on the night of the marriage for the two to share a bed." Miroku began hesitantly. Why exactly was he telling this? Hadn't anyone ever told him about the facts of life?
"Eventually, hopefully, an heir will be produced." Miroku added after a moment. Maybe if he could plant the idea in his master's head such realities would come to pass.
Unfortunately the response was not one he could take as enthusiastic.
"WHAT!?" He breathed, gasping for breath, his face flushed, then, continuing in a strained voice, "What…did you say?"
"To produce an heir." Miroku repeated simply, hoping such an open attitude would help the situation.
There was silence as the hanyou lord closed his eyes trying to calm his being.
"It is a part of life, you know…" Miroku continued.
"Yes, I understand that," He admitted angrily, "I am not ignorant in the process of procreation…"
"Oh…well then, there is nothing to worry about, Inuyasha-sama." Miroku urged, as he promptly closed his book and stood up. The marriage was having his toile on his master. Hopefully, it would not cloud his mind too much—to stray away from his life's goal would only bring his downfall.
"Feh, nothing to worry about…" Inuyasha repeated gazing unseeingly down at the fresh tatami mats that had been purchased. "She is just a woman."
"Yes, nothing. Do as you see fit." Miroku finished as he stepped out of the room. He was beginning to have a feeling that if he poked or prodded his lord too much that he would explode and he himself would still be putting lord back together on the day, and night, of the wedding.
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Had she smiled during the celebration? Looking over the later part of the afternoon glossed heavily with drink and food and the servants playing the shamisen, she couldn't remember smiling. She had laughed, but did that really count? When not laughing she was staring blankly at all which lay around her. All that she had grown accustomed to; all which in those few short hours would no longer be hers.
And now, her house was at least ten kilometers away. Ten kilometers was not much in reality, yet at this moment she felt as if a sea separated herself from her childhood, her past life. All the memories were someone else's.
She rode by herself, her parents following behind her in a similar carriage. Dressed in the kimono for the wedding in which layers upon layers of painstaking beauty were laid with only one place to go. She dared not move unless she should ruin her hair, or kimono. In reality she couldn't care less if she showed up to his wedding with a hachi-maki on her head and a hanten on her body—this marriage was no importance to her. Kagome knew she was just a pawn in her parents and the Lord's game. This was the way of women; they were traded, bartered, and bought for someone else's goal.
Yet, why couldn't her parent's have chosen someone at least human? What if he was shaped like some large fat man with horns sticking out of several places?
It was of no use to think of such things, her fate was already sealed. Hoping for a better life was all she could do. Closing her eyes, she attempted not to cry.
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The wedding ceremony had gone peacefully and smooth, perhaps almost excessively smooth. There had been no embarrassing comments, no trite jokes, and no mishap with the foodstuff. Yes, all had gone as smooth as the silk that Kagome had found herself dressed in. As she had entered the great house, which in reality should have been called a palace, she found herself astounded by the beauty that had been so beautifully crafted in both the architecture and the surrounding landscape. It was not traditional in design, yet it held something that was deeply rooted in tradition. It had a scent of wonderment and a sense of an untamed quality—and Kagome realized that these gardens would be her only happiness in such a house as this.
She had been led, her parents and younger brother following behind, into a great room. As she walked through the house she noticed the fine details that the wooden beams had been afforded, yet she tried not to notice much. She would have the rest of her life to know and understand this gilded cage—she should limit her intake. By the time of her death she would know each hole in the wall, each handcrafted detail…things that perhaps no one knew. Kagome found herself playing the role of the submissive wife quite nicely as she preformed every step in sweeping graceful brilliance, and no one, except what appeared to be an advisor, noticed the absence of glimmer in her eyes. Kagome was like a puppet, moving, talking, smiling—but no life ever graced her features. Not even when the lord himself stepped into the room did her breathe catch. She watched the young man hazily as he seated himself formally beside her own figure. Perhaps she did not even hear his rich, low voice…
Kagome observed all that lay before of her, her parents looking serious and mournful, her brother looking on the verge of tears, and a few people which in her years to come she would know with great clarity. Yet, she could not bring herself to turn her head to look at the man that was now her husband. The Shinto priest was pouring the Sake into the saucer like cups. Carefully with much grace and practice, he placed it into Inuyasha's hand. He brought it to his lips and took a sip, then passed it in her direction.
This would be the first time they would have touched. Ever. This would be there first embrace. She lifted her hand and reached for the swimming saucer. His hand had caused the porcelain to turn momentarily warm when not exposed to the cool air. For a moment, at most, she felt his skin, which had grown soft during the winter. Looking up into his face for only the briefest of moments she found that he was gazing at her with a look in incredulity on his features. It was as though he was surprised, or perhaps repulsed by the way she looked. Then…she realized it… Bringing her hand slowly up to her face, she felt the wetness of tears. Bowing her head quickly down she took a sip and passed it on.
The lord had been shocked by her emotion. Perhaps he was dissatisfied with her already…yet, it was too late. With the taste of the Sake still burning her throat, she realized she was now wed to Lord Inuyasha.
Miroku frowned from his seat farther away due to his 'lower' rank, despite the fact that he was Inuyasha's childhood friend. Yet, he would not argue. What worried him now was that his lord was both embarrassed and extremely nervous. When two such things came together there was only one possible outcome; which was that of crankiness. The wife, or future to be one at least, seemed almost dead in her painted expression, and only when she was forced to bring the Sake from her lips did she move. Miroku knew the girl was not weak, for one could tell by the nature of her face, and the shine to her hair—yet it was as though no life in her remained.
He kept his eyes on both his Lord, and from time to time his wife, as the night wore on. Celebration was had with much eating, drinking, toasting and the like. He watched his Lord as he began to become intoxicated; he watched as the wife excused herself to bed; he watched as the guests slowly left; he watched as the servants took away the food. It was not until only he and his lord remained that he dared to move forward. He had hardly spoken to him since before the Higurashi family had arrived—and only a few words of encouragement at that. Pouring himself a glass of Choya, he leaned causally over the table and met Inuyasha's eyes, now glazed with alcohol.
"Congratulations." He found himself saying.
His lord said nothing and instead gazed at the table in front of him. His face was unreadable.
The room flickered in the candlelight that a cool breeze brought in from the open patio.
"You are a married man now." Miroku continued idly twirling the currently empty cup.
His lord glanced at him, his eyes cold and angry. It was eyes that Miroku only witnessed when in the battlefield—the time when the resemblance between Inuyasha and his brother was startling. A cold person remained in the battlefield; as did the one that sat near him.
"You should probably get some sleep…" Miroku mumbled as he himself yawned. His lord had come bursting into his room at five o'clock in the morning insisting that he did not want to get married and that he should call off the whole thing. This would have brought disgrace, Miroku had explained sleepily. The rest of the day was spent trying to persuade his Lord, a most strenuous task indeed.
"Don't you think that is what I have been avoiding, idiot?" Inuyasha snarled as he threw the cup angrily out into the patio. It broke and shattered.
Miroku stared at him in horror as he watched the alcohol only accentuate his rage.
"Inuyasha-sama…" Miroku began trying to calm him.
"I only just saw the girl today, and now she is my wife?!" He began angrily, "How the hell do you expect me to sleep with her?!"
Ah…things began to come into focus. His lord was nervous. The empty Sake bottles glimmered in the light as the pieces began to fit into place. Yet, despite the puzzle coming together, there was nothing that could be done. The society, which he and his lord were placed in, was one of rules and expectations. If it was expected that his Lord should sleep with her tonight, this was the case. Eventually, if an heir was not produced within a few years, talk would begin.
"My lord…" Miroku began hesitantly. How could he put this? How could he explain?
"Shut the hell up." He hissed as he hoisted himself to a stance and angrily walked out of the room.
Perhaps fear was Inuyasha's best ally—the fear to do what he dreaded.
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The door slid open and Kagome sat up in alarm, clutching the blanket around her frame. She had been in his chambers for at least two hours now gazing out at the moon. One more day, and it would have reached its peak… She had hoped to flee from the loud and noisy scene of the celebration. She had hoped that in some way this solitude could prepare her for what was about to happen. Turning her eyes to the door, she saw his figure shrouded in shadows. His eyes were small-determined slits of darkness as he made his way towards her.
His beauty had not gone unnoticed when she first laid eyes on him. Yet, what did it matter if he was good-looking or not? Inuyasha had taken her for his own, captured her like a piece of Go, and now she was his. Even if he were the most ugly man on earth, she would have felt the same. Attraction to the appearance had nothing to do with it. If she became attracted; all would be lost.
This last act would bind her to this man forever. Once he took her body, she would be his. Each night would be the same rhythm of grunts and groans amidst the small shelter which the screens provided.
Perhaps if they had met before, not under such circumstances, this action would have been easier for the both them. She would not be trembling as she was now, and she would not fear his touch. Nevertheless, this was to be her married life.
Kagome watched him silently as he slowly made his way forward as he began to take off the many layers of the ceremonial robe that he was dressed in. Kneeling to the ground, his eyes nearly level with her own, he gazed at her. It was an unreadable look distorted by alcohol and the shadows of the night. He leaned down towards her body and slowly began to wrap his arms around her body, now only dressed in a sleeping garment.
Closing her eyes as the man, her husband, crawled onto her she promised that she would not cry. She was stronger than this burden, and she could rise above and beyond it. Painfully, she was aware of the figure running his claws through her undone hair, then down the nape of her neck.
Inuyahsa leaned closer and inhaling the scent of lilac's, a scent that he would learn to identify after this night, he enjoyed the moment of innocence. His wife was beauteous and young, more beautiful than he could have ever expected. Yet, such truths as they were would not stop him in his decision. Although already enticing him with her scent and arousing hidden emotions in his body…he could not bring himself to do such a thing. Not to a woman he did not love. Not to a woman he did not respect.
Pulling slightly away, he whispered into her ear, "Cry for help." He had to make her understand. If she wanted nothing to happen she would have to cry, scream, or moan. The house would then exhale a sigh of relief, as they believed that she had reached the climax. A man was not expected to cry out in pleasure, no, only that was a woman's way.
His wife's eyes opened and he gazed down into them as he repeated, "Cry for help." Once again, he was startled at the color of her eyes that were accentuated with the liquid that began to ooze from their azure depths.
Yet, confusion was evident, and he had no patience for this. Tightening his grip around her wrists he commanded, "Cry. Now." She was shivering beneath his body and shortly his eyes clouded over with an emotion he could not understand. Instinctively he dropped her wrists and rolling off her body he began to undress himself. He could feel her gaze—yet now he did not care. Her wanted to distance herself from her and her womanly ways. He could not do what others expected, and he had never wanted to. He would not begin tonight. Tossing the blanket over his body, he snarled, "Don't make me tell you again."
Allowing a soft sort of relief to spread through his body, he fell asleep listening to her sobs.
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AN: *smirks* yeah, poor Inu-kun couldn't make himself do it. I couldn't blame the poor guy. Dun worry y'all…much more…'stuff' to happen still! Btw: Kagome is not gunna be some weak prick…she will toughen up, well, as much as a noble woman can. ^_~
Choya= plum wine
Hachi maki= those headbands you see people in anime wear when they are super motivated! GANBATTE NE!
Hanten= a peasant's jacket…also known as a happi.