Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
Chapter four: Mistakes beneath the leaves
The great milky sky clung above the landscape, sheltering it from the meek spring sun above. The edges were highlighted in a subdued white, like slightly faded snow resting on the old and gray bows of some trees. Like waves upon waves upon waves, these clouds spurned over the horizon, their depths a soft bluish gray, resembling the color of a subdue storm far off at sea. The danger had not yet begun, and the color was still comforting.
Yet, there was something extremely sorrowful about the scene…
Kagome was under the opinion that when and if there were changes in weather they should be abrupt. It should be decided whether the day would be fine or rainy—it should not consist of an undecided god, who at times allowed the sun to peak from behind the thin wash of clouds, just slight enough to block out the light—yet not thick enough to be full of menacing water which would drench the landscapes.
The figure of a woman, clad in shades of deepening scarlet and light lavender, was seated elegantly at the edge of the moss-covered garden, watching the employees quietly trim the branches of the red maple.
One of the old and wrinkled men turned towards the figure of youth and beauty, which would one day turn rotten and decrepit like him. His lips twitched, revealing scattered teeth, sallow and gleaming in the perforated sunlight.
"My Lady," he began, hobbling towards the seated figure, using the rake as a support, "Will you play us as song?"
The figure, with dark raven hair and smooth skin, spread her mouth open in a smile, revealing white and lustrous teeth; although the fashion of the day was to blacken them.
"What would you have me play?" Her musical voice asked.
"Anything! It's better than this silence!" a middle aged man, with a large belly, cheered eagerly, looking up from the koi pond, where he was throwing in their food. Flashes of white, orange, gold, red, and black were seen in the transparent water. Large, wide eyes, deep mouths.
Abiding by their wishes, the soft and utterly melancholy voice of the koto was heard. So expertly did the lady play the instrument and song, that one felt that it was her heart singing.
How sad was the tale.
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Rousing from a pause in the conversation, Inuyasha glanced up warily, "What is that sound?"
There was another silence as both listened intently to the notes being struck upon an instrument from some distance away. Miroku presumed that it was a servant, perhaps resting. Yet, to his well-trained ear, the music was too sweet, and too beautiful to be anything conjured by a commoner. The chords swept around the manor, their passing like that of spring; something beautiful, and gentle. A deed that happened. An act that was accepted. Miroku found relief and relaxation flood through his body for the first time in months, as he listened to the slow, gurgling quality of the instrument. At his scene, his master's ears pricked up in interest, his eyes alight with mystery and wonder—there was something extremely comforting and causal about it all.
"I believe," Miroku began slowly, "That it is your wife, my lord."
Inuyasha swerved his head; his silver hair catching the midday light, and a look of bewilderment resided on his strong features. Yet, the silver haired form said nothing and returned to studying the map that resided on the table, its worn and faded edges slightly crinkled with age. Miroku was aware, however, that his master's ears still pricked to listen to the sound. His hands did not move, nor did his eyes—as though a spell had momentarily transformed the angry and cross being into something rather soft and nearly fluffy.
"If you will excuse me, my lord." Miroku coughed slightly as he stood and made his way towards the door, "I must inquire about something to a servant."
There was a grunt and shallow nod from the figure as Miroku silently slid the shoji screen shut.
The advisor's lips pricked slightly at the corners, as he walked down the hall. It had been long indeed since music had touched Inuyasha's ears.
Walking smoothly along the hall, Miroku tried to plan exactly how he was going to explain to her that Inuyasha, her husband, turned human on the night of the new moon. The family had known that she was being married to a hanyou; yes. Would the fact that this hanyou turned human every thirty days or so change anything? Would the opinion be less or more? Should the family be informed?
On the last question, Miroku decided a definite 'no.' The fact remained that Inuyasha was a warlord—he ruled over people, hanyou, youkai. He did not abuse them, or treat them harshly—in fact, he hardly ever dealt with his subjects. He helped them when it was in his power to and when help was in need. Yet, besides the distress signals—he let the creatures run their lives in peace. When something worthwhile was desired, such as the rebuilding of the local shrine or a new well: Inuyasha did what needed to be done. Yet, there had been treaties between youkai and humans, and perhaps for this, his master was hated for. Loved by humans, yet hated by part of his own kind. If the fact was revealed that once a month their ruler was human, weak, and susceptible to a variety of death methods: then no doubt, this information would spread, and Inuyasha's power would be drained away.
"Excuse me, my lady." Miroku requested humbly, the barrier of thin rice paper, scented with elderberries, the only barrier.
The music was hushed immediately. There was a short pause, and then her voice was heard, allowing him in her presence.
Opening the door he made his way towards her, sat, then bowed slightly. The mistress has turned her attention and presence towards him, and did the formalities with all the grace of a geisha from Edo.
"There is something I have been meaning to speak to you about." Miroku began in earnest, his dark eyes falling instinctively to the figure of the woman, trying to imagine her body beneath the layers of kimono. His decision for his lord has been a wise one…and perhaps tonight the lady would carry his seed. Perhaps in his human state he could not resist his human reactions and her womanly charms. Contemplating this, Miroku waited for her reply.
Her large eyes fell to the moss covered path of the garden, a slight smile resting on her deep red lips. "Before we begin, shall I call for something?" She asked quietly, seeming to find the situation amusing in some way.
Smirking, Miroku chuckled, "Let us be frank, shall we? I am not your husband. Far from it. You do not need to put on airs."
He felt her startled gaze, and meeting her eyes he chuckled again, "Don't worry, my lady, when in the presence of our lord we shall both act the part."
Her eyes were wide in astonishment, yet, after a few moments, she blinked and laughed slightly herself, "I see. It is rather dull to play the part. Although, I only am forced to when he is around."
"Inuyasha-sama, I presume?"
"Yes. Him."
"Won't you say his name?" Miroku chided, rather astonished by her transformation.
"Only when necessary." She grinned, allowing her teeth to show, "Would you like some sake?"
The house was thrown into shadow by a passing cloud above. For a period of ten second the house was cool, its normal colors transformed into blues, purples, and dark greens.
"No thanks." Miroku admitted, "But, I would like to talk about Inuyasha and tonight."
Her attitude became stiff, and cold. She bristled like an animal in danger.
"Yes…" she began, slowly, calculated, the fear evident in her voice, "What about him?"
Opening his mouth, Miroku was about to begin. And oh, how he wished he could have told her, and yet so ill arrived was the servant's time, that the mood was lost, as well as the earnest quality in their conversation.
"Kagome-sama…!" someone from the hall breathed breathlessly. In the still open door, a slim and young figure appeared, "Excuse me, Miroku-san, but a package has arrived for the Lady."
"A package?" Kagome questioned, curious at the rather large bundle the girl held in her arms.
Miroku's countenance became serious and concerned, "Here, let me see. We do not know who it is from…it could be something from Sessho—it could be something from the enemy."
Flashing a quick gaze towards Miroku, who was walking sternly towards the young girl, Kagome with withheld any questions she had about who her enemies were. Yet, from the sound of the name, the similarities were uncanny, between the youkai Lord of the western lands, Sesshoumaru. Kagome had heard the rumor of a tall, fair-haired demon, with an appearance of a man…with golden eyes…
"It could not be. Let me see if I recognize the writing." Kagome insisted, not moving, her voice stern, and controlled. She made it clear to Miroku that although Inuyasha was his Lord, she was his Lady—and still higher above in rank, despite the fact that she was a woman.
"Miroku-san, please give me the package." She insisted, rising slightly from her seated position, "If it looks suspicious, you may have it by all means."
The formality in their relationship had begun again. Kagome was all well aware that when the time came she could use her power. Having been born into such a family had allowed her to understand that as a woman in the world it was particularly hard to have control. Being born into a noble house only increased your already weakening power.
The servant shuffled quietly towards her, and gently passed the parcel into her outstretched arms. It was a comfortable weight, though the shape and size were extremely precarious. In length, the package rivaled slightly longer than the both her arms spread out. As far as width went it was not so strange, and instead seemed only half the length of one of her arms. Yet, as she placed on the tatami mat in front of her, she was aware that there were more than one objects residing within the fold of fabric and paper.
Examining closer, she read a hurried, scrawled and sloppy script, which read:
To Mrs. KagomeFrom Higurashi Souta
Underneath was a quick note:
Dear ne-chan,
How are you? I hope that things are fine. I rescued this
when the time was safe. I hope it gets safely to you, and
is not discovered and destroyed. Take care.
The boy had then signed it.
Miroku too peered over the package, and questioned, "What did you have him send?"
Kagome found heat rising from her body into her face, and she flushed noticeably, "I…uh…"
Deciding that sooner, rather than later, the house would find out about the package and be most curious of the contents inside, Kagome murmured, "I don't know. But, I'll open it…"
Miroku's lips turned down slightly, still unsure about the authenticity of the parcel. Yet, his lady was determined, and he could not undermine his lady. It was true he could go to Inuyasha, but then, those two were not on good terms to begin with. This would just cause the two to hate each other even more, along with Kagome losing faith in their unsteady friendship.
Just as the final fold was about to be relieved from the bundle, a sound of hurried footsteps was heard, and another servant appeared at the entrance, her face flushed with the exercise, gasping in a mixture of terror and urgency, "Miroku-san, my lord—Inuyasha-sama, he demands your presence."
Cursing silently to himself, Miroku excused his company and hurriedly made his way towards his master. Whatever the package contained, he would know not what, until late that evening.
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"What the hell took you so long!" Inuyasha snarled angrily as Miroku entered the room.
His form was positioned at the mahogany table, the old and faded map still placed quietly atop. Surrounding him were a variety of objects that Miroku was not even aware that the house possessed. Small crepe paper balloons, in shapes of animals, particularly of fishes and octopi; with playful, if not cartoon-ish expressions painted onto their faces. A variety of tops lay around him, and a few other scattered games. Miroku always had to remind himself mentally that despite Inuyasha's mature features, he was, as far has his maturity went, somewhat younger in age compared to his wife. It was only concerning war, and his brother, Sesshoumaru, that the serious side of him dominated his impatient and easily amused countenance.
"What have you been doing?" Miroku questioned, as he began to pick up the bright multicolored toys.
"What the hell does it look like I have been doing?" Inuyasha grumbled irritably as he idly played with a top on the desk, "I have been bored waiting for you to come back. Its not as if I can go anywhere and return before the sunset. I am trapped here…"
Inuyasha paused; his features contorted into one of disbelief and confusion. It passed, and irritability was replaced, "And then YOU abandoned me!"
"I'm sorry, my lord, I was attending to other, more important matters than your boredom."
There was a grunt from the hanyou.
"If I may point out, these words sound somewhat familiar. They remind of the same attitude of your wife this morning."
Another grunt, more loud, and annoyed, "Don't talk to me of her! I could care less!"
Sighing, Miroku turned and mumbled, "As could I. I may be your advisor, but I am not your entertainer. Why don't you walk about the grounds—relax. Tomorrow we will be gone, and the stresses of the world upon us. Why not just enjoy this 'resort'."
Inuyasha spat angrily, "It's more like a gilded cage to me."
Walking the length of the room, Miroku gazed serenely out onto the porch that over looked the yard that was beginning to awake itself from the doldrums of winter. Murmuring, just above a whisper, he replied, "Is that so…"
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The contents of the parcel quickly in hand, Kagome walked along the outdoor deck that bordered much of the property. Adjacent to this deck were rooms with shoji screens as protective barriers. In the evening, dark and heavy panels would be placed over most—although Kagome was not sure if that would happen tonight or not. Her husband was home—and he was a hanyou. Not many demons could stand up to him. Would the protection really be needed?
Wondering about this, she continued to walk, every now and then gazing into the rooms (most unused, or guest rooms for guests who never came) and pausing to study them. They were not interesting, although from time to time a perfectly beautiful wall scroll caught her eye—or perhaps a collection of pottery foreign to her.
Deep in the back of her mind, something was calling out. An idea, not yet formed, yet evident in its existence; though the purpose was still obscure.
It was at one time when she paused to gaze at an open room (in) which no one occupied, that she found that sometime earlier; someone had indeed been doing just that. On the floor were empty Sake saucers, and a few bowls with chopsticks resting inside. In the corner was a great stack of rolled parchments resting against a large mahogany chest of drawers, matching the low table in the middle of the room.
Quickly glancing up and down the hall and finding no one in the vicinity, she swiftly crept into the room. Kneeling at the rim of the mahogany desk, she peered down at the map, and found little wooden blocks of two color's,(white and red), placed in supposed strategic plots around the terrain. Upon quick study, she found that the color that she was tied to was that of the red, located in the wide valley, and on three mountain ranges. Hastily, afraid that someone might enter, she tried to remember how far Inuyasha's territory had stretched. She remembered the valley was his, yes—but the mountains? She was not quite sure. Reminding herself to ask Yuki, she continued to study the worn and faded piece of thick paper. To the west was where the white pieces lay, located primarily in the great mountains, as well as a few pocketed valleys. Kagome's eyes drew north, and for the first time she noticed another colored piece…yet there was only one. The wooden piece was black.
Drawing her eyes away from the map, she gingerly touched a few scrolls located on the other side of the table. Opening them, she found a variety in each of the individual contents. One consisted of a treaty between humans and demons in the Yamanashi prefecture—yet for some reason there was a large gash in the paper, which made the script hard to read. Another consisted of the amount of rice that Inuyasha's lands harvested, as well as other scattered crops, such as melons, peaches, and then, of course, livestock.
Grabbing the next scroll, she glanced up in panic as the murmur of voices drew nearer. Promptly dropping the object she hurriedly left the room, and returned to the relative innocence and safety of the porch. A moment later, as she walked quietly away, she heard the swish of the screens open, and the murmur of voices grow distinct. It was Inuyasha and Miroku. And, she realized, that she had discovered his study…or storage room, or whatever he felt like calling it. She had found the archives…
Fingering the treasure her brother had sent her, she went to her room, where moments later she called Yuki for her services. In the time between rapidly scurrying out of her husbands' chambers, and arriving at her own, a plan had been formed. Kagome did not admit the plan was brilliant, but even if she was caught, she would make a statement. If she succeeded, well, that was all the better. If she failed then she could try to convince her stubborn husband about where her needs and opinions stood. If he would not listen, then such things would repeat themselves.
Placing the bow, arrows, and quiver in the closet, she waited for Yuki's arrival.
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"Yuki-chan…" Kagome breathed hurriedly, quickly shedding her clothes behind a screen in the corner of the room, "Promise you won't tell, ne?"
Sticking her head out she gazed at the worried servant who was quivering in fright. The servants' eyes were large, like that of a night animal, and her breath was quick and shallow. "My lady, are you quite sure?"
An expression of grim determination resided on her features, and a great strength shone in her eyes, "I am positive."
"B-B-But!" Yuki sputtered, tears welling up in your eyes, "What if something happens? What if I am to blame?"
Kagome emerged from behind the screen, and Yuki's expression was one of silent amazement. A soft tender smile of grace rested over Kagome, and she replied, "Nothing will happen. Didn't I ever tell you I am skilled at the bow?"
Yuki continued to gawk in incredulity at her lady who now resembled a commoner. Her makeup and hair styling was gone. Layers of kimono lay smooth and rested in the corner, instead, the lady of the house wore peasants clothes, decorated in but a simple design. It was not as though she did not look pretty, in fact, she still looked beautiful—yet it was a different, if not parallel sort of beauty. Her still blue eyes, like that of the ocean on a clear day, glinted and sparkled in merriment.
"Let's hurry…"
Yuki flushed and gazed down at the floor for a long moment, as though she could not let her mistress wander out into the great and cruel world beyond the gate. Stepping nearer, Kagome added, "I have been out in the real world before. It is only two in the afternoon. I shall be back before dinner."
The simple country girl looked up, blinking back tears, "Are you sure, my lady?"
Flashing a smile of purest sincerity and earnest attitude, she added, with a bit of adventure, "Yes."
A transformation began in Yuki, and she too formed an expression of excitement, and holding back a giggle, she added, "Alright. I'll show you where to leave."
Hurrying to the closet where she had hid the parcel from her brother, she now took out the bow, quiver, and arrows, and arranged them about her figure. The leather quiver now strung over her back, and the bow rested gently on her shoulder.
Kagome gently tapped Yuki's shoulder as they made their way through the maze of halls, "Thanks," she murmured tenderly.
Yuki made no reply, but a slight smile caused her face to glow in happiness.
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The building was old and worn, and smelled of herbs and spices, mingled with rotting paper and mildew. A deep orange color of afternoon sun beat in through the windows onto the counter top of the shop at the nearby town. Stepping in, Kagome found the air to be thick and heavy, and the ground dusty and dry, despite the recent rain. Finding her voice, she questioned, "Anyone here?"
There was a rustle and shuffle of papers from the far corner, and then a gruff and choked, "Hello?"
Calling out again into the gloom and dust, Kagome explained, "I want to buy a map!"
There was a shuffle again, and the sound of footsteps. As they neared the counter, and as the figure emerged out of the shadows, he responded, "Take your choice—all the types I manufacture are on the wall." His stiff and old limbs lifted, and with a quivering, withered finger(e) he pointed to the wall adjacent to the desk.
"Oh, I didn't see." Kagome flushed, averting her eyes, and gazing up at the old and faded maps. There were indeed a large amount, all labeled by numbers in their lower right hand corner. She saw the islands near Okinawa, the great island of Honshu, Hokkaido—then there were urban maps, that of Kyoto, Edo, and Hiroshima.
Coughing slightly by because of the dirt, she pointed smoothly to number eight, and said, "I would like that one. Number eight? The surrounding prefectures." Kagome paused, aware for the first time that she did not have much money on her. She had thought this would be wise, incase she was attacked by bandits on her way home, "Uh, how much is that?"
The old and bearded man took a moment to respond, as though having to numerically go through each map. "Uh…that'll be…" he paused again, "…'bout 700 en."
Breathing a sigh of relief, Kagome dove into her purse, but was paused by the slow and calculated words of the mapmaker, "Not so fast. Not so fast. I make the maps, then you pay."
Throwing him a bewildered look, he continued, "Most people around here don't trust merchants such as myself. I do not trust wanderers such as you. I would rather make the map, and you disappear, then…" he paused, his train of thought gone. The corners of his mouth drooped down, and he grunted and grumbled a sigh, "Oh well. I have forgotten. Number eight, you said?"
Kagome nodded slowly, studying the man's features. The man's features were like that after a great flood, hard cracks and crevices against dark moist earth.
"'Bout an hour. Go down to a shop called Tampopo—good Ramen place."
Flushing slightly in embarrassment, both for herself and the old man, she departed the dreary shop, and made her way into the heart of the small rural farming town.
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The day had deepened now, and the shadows grown long in the approaching hour of the sunset. Yet, still the golden orb hung resiliently in the sky, resting gently above the hazy mountainside, as though contemplating all that it saw. The world was in no hurry this afternoon. Farmers and villagers could be seen walking along dirt paths, or trudging through the mucky rice fields to the local village. Their straw hats caught the sun slightly, and as they moved with a graceful elegance through the fields, the sounds of songs were carried swiftly through the still budding spring air.
Inuyasha, from within his study, glowered down at the map, as he had been doing for some time now. His eyes flickered to images of the mountains and then the sea, then finally to his homeland, where they had remained for some time. Yet, by the disinterested look on his face, his mind wandered endlessly elsewhere, to questions and thoughts that only he could comprehend.
The shoji screen to his right slid open, and Miroku entered softly after having left some minutes earlier to inquire when dinner would be served. He had informed the staff that his master was very hungry, and would hope that the evening meal would begin earlier than usual. For some reason, Miroku had noted, the staff seemed disturbed by this news, and explained to him more than once, that this could not be done. The fish was yet to be caught, and the stew yet to be prepared. Miroku just repeated his master's words and left, although something lurked in the back of his mind, an idea which he would not allow himself to fathom. The fact that the staff was hiding something. They were unwilling to begin because something was not yet ready…or perhaps had not yet arrived…
"Inuyasha," addressed Miroku casually as he flopped lazily onto the ground, "I have just informed the staff. Whatever the reason, it can't be done. The fish, or something or other to that effect. We will just have to wait. You will just have to starve."
The hanyou looked up irritably, and sighed, "It's just as well, Miroku, I have to go explain…"
Miroku, who had asked a servant, Yuki, for some reading material, looked up from the book, a look of pity and amusement on his features. Heaving a sigh, he replied, "Sorry I didn't get to explain the circumstances to her. A parcel arrived, and then you called, and now she can't seem to be found. Very odd. But, of course, I never had a sister, and don't know these woman(')s' ways. Perhaps they all disappear come afternoon."
Inuyasha's thick eyebrows furrowed together for a moment, and he brought one clawed hand to his face, massaging his chin momentarily, "A parcel? What was in it?"
Miroku shrugged; and returned back to his novel. The Tale of Genji had managed to captivate him once again; what was it now, he wondered? The fifth or sixth time? "I don't really know. She said it was from her brother. Probably romance novels…or…" Miroku paused, his face forming a look of disgust, "…or things I do not want to know about…"
A note of urgency had come into his voice, "So, you didn't actually see what was inside?"
Miroku was completely lost now, and shrugged, "No. I did not. However, the package was nearly opened. Nothing had jumped out and bit her head off. Don't worry."
Realizing what he had just said, he placed the large manuscript into his lap, and studied his lord seriously. What exactly was he saying? If anything he was ruining the potential of these two extremely stubborn people ever getting along.
"Wait. Actually, I believe you should worry." Miroku fumbled terribly at the confused Inuyasha. "Actually, why don't you go look for her? You might as well get it over with, about being human by tonight, that is. And you can find out whatever it was that was in the package."
Inuyasha mulled quietly to himself with these facts and proposition made by his friend. True, he would be killing two birds with one stone by going to her now, and that was always good. For another thing, if he did not tell the human girl by dinner, she would probably scream, most likely, at the sight of him. And…he was bored. Inuyasha always pondered year after year how he ever managed to stay in his abode all through the winter. He remembered those long dreary months in somewhat of a blur, mixed with sleeping and drinking, when not going over the past years' figures. In the spring, his boredom would increased tenfold whenever he was forced inside the stone walls of his fortress. Inuyasha knew, and was aware, that there were actions he could partake in, armies he could assemble, plans and battle tactics he could be creating—if it was not for the damn passing faces of the moon.
Now, there was just another thorn in his side every time he would return home. There would be her, his wife, waiting for him. Calling out for demands he could and would not fulfill. She would be here, a helpless human, with no life gleaming in her dead eyes. And with this human, he was supposed to continue his bloodline through? This weak pathetic girl, whose life had no meaning and passed the days without recognition? This pathetic human girl, he was supposed to love, and respect, and continue to uphold his heritage. The thought revolted him…
Although he despised the girl, there was nevertheless something fascinating about her. Perhaps it was the grace with which she moved and her beauty, if nothing else. Perhaps it was the fact that he had little contact with females, his mother, now long dead, the only one, except…that girl he had met so long ago. And perhaps even more so, was the way that the two resembled one another. He would not renounce the truth that he had noticed this on their wedding night. Yes, for sometime even, he had imagined the girl to be Kikyou. He had hoped…hoped that somehow there was a mistake, and that really he was to marry Kagome's older sister, if there was one. And Kagome's older sister would be Kikyou…the girl he had stumbled upon on that fateful day…and how she had fallen dead into his arms by his brother's cruelty…
No such luck had been granted him. Yet, when had there even been luck on his side? Fate in the past that always lent him a hand—but had he really ever taken his destiny in his own dispense, pulled it in the opposite direction, and forced it to work the way he wanted it to? Inuyasha knew the answer to this. He also knew that this was the key to his brother's, Sesshoumaru's, success. Sesshoumaru had this ability—and oh, how he envied it.
Yet the girl…, Inuyasha though bitterly as he cleared his mind of Sesshoumaru, resembled her so much, even in her movements, her glances, her smile…
It was for this reason, and this reason alone, that he hated Sesshoumaru.
He could still remember the blood dripping from his fingers…
Rising quickly, in his hanyou poise, he murmured more harshly than he intended, "I guess I will have to find her, if she will not come."
So he left, initially walking to her room, which overwhelmed him in its delicate fragrance of lilacs. He called out her name, not tenderly, and glanced hurriedly about the room. There were signs of her, yes, and if he had not been in such as haste as he now was, Inuyasha would have taken pleasure in exploring her chamber. It was a foreign environment to him, a woman's bedroom.
Yet…it was also his as well, he reminded himself.
Striding across the length, he knelt down and picked up folded fabric, which consisted of her kimono and its various layers she had worn earlier in the morning. Yet, he wondered, why was it here? Neatly folded, lying in a corner behind a screen?
Sniffling the air, he was aware for the first time, of other scents—that of coarse fabric, like that of the villagers—and then, most peculiar, was the scent of lilac's blending with this earthy fragrance. Standing abruptly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, he began to trace the scent throughout the house, unaware that the sun was now falling fast.
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Steps echoed quietly on the gravel path. It was the sound of panic, as though someone was chasing the keeper or there was a great lack of time. The steps quickened, as did the strides, and the quick scurry turned into a run against the moist soil.
Adjusting her bow, Kagome wondered why she had bothered to bring the cumbersome thing in the first place. It was not as though she had run into any trouble—there had been no perverted no warriors, no demon's…yet, night was rapidly falling. Such dangers were expected at these hours.
Stopping to catch her breathe, she gazed around her in the twilight, aware for the first time that there was no moon. It was the night of the new moon. (It did strike her as odd, as she stood there, that her husband should return on such a night—but her thoughts were scattered, and only concentrated on the quickest route back to the fortress.)
Kagome stood on an incline of a hill, on which a road followed around the bend. She knew that her dwelling resided on the other side of this hill, and a little farther on, perhaps another quarter of a mile. Her eyes now searched for signs of people, dwellings, or anything out of the ordinary. In the fading light, a wooden sign caught her attention and walking towards the side of the road (where it was positioned) she found it was a path that cut through the forest and eventually met the road she now traveled on. In other words, it was a short cut.
Sighing happily in her good fortune, she quickly continued up the incline into the dim forest, wishing she had a lantern—yet glad now that she had thought of her bow.
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The silver haired hanyou, as quick as lightening, ran through the forest terrain. Inuyasha, his eyes now blind in rage and anger, and perhaps, though he would not admit it, fear. His expression was one of deep concentration as he sniffled through the damp spring air. Pausing, his ears detected footsteps, but of where and whose they were—he did not know. Already his hearing was failing him. Gazing down in his hands in horror, he found that his fearsome claws were now dull stubs, fingers that all humans had.
In the darkening day, he sped along the forest shortcut trying to keep hold of her scent. Inuyasha, having followed her fragrance this far, realized the girl had traveled down to the village—but after that? And, with his lack of hanyou senses he would not be able to track her far. That was the reason he had taken this short cut. From the other side of the hill the entrance was hardly noticeable—so, not many people traveled this way. Also, there were rumors of great (though to Inuyasha, they were measly little maggots) demons lurking in the darkness of night.
If Inuyasha could arrive at the town soon without loosing her scent he could at least know which road she took had taken after she had made her way through the rural village. Yet, he was loosing his strength fast. Already his breath came in gasps, and sweat began to form on his brow, and trickle down to his human ears.
And through the dense foliage, thick with rotting leaves of last autumn, and the new shoots of plants just sprouting due to the warm weather, Inuyasha ran.
It was almost in a mixture between blind fury and panic that he sped through the forest—unaware of the figure some hundred yards away, eyeing him in fear. Night had now fallen, his figure cast into darkness.
Kagome heard the steps running towards her, she heard the broken panting breathe in the silence of the woods, and through the trees she saw the great mane of whatever beast it was.
She had no time to think, she realized this. Purely in an effort of surviving, she quickly (and in perfect form and balance) grasped her hand around an arrow from her quiver, and strung it onto the bow. The figure loomed nearer, and tying to call out she found her voice had vanished. Yet, not her determination. Pulling back she aimed towards the rampaging creature, now but twenty-five yards away. She released. There was a sound, like that of cicada(')s in the summer, then a shout of agony, the sound of something tumbling to the earth—and then, what she expected least of all, was adamant swearing.
A cold sweat covered her chilled body, and gasping in horror she rushed towards the fallen creature, realizing that it was no demon she had stuck. A spare arrow in one hand, incase her presumption was false; she crept towards the figure that lay on the ground, not moving.
Kagome realized she had never killed. Had she done so now?
Seating herself next to the figure, still shrouded in the shadows, she opened her mouth to question the being, yet her air and voice was cut off by a strong hand winding around her neck, and squeezing without mercy. She really was a fool, Kagome thought bitterly.
"Who the fuck are you?" The creatures spat furiously, propping himself up on the free arm.
Her grip still strong on the arrow she thrust its point towards the creatures skull, and managed to cough, "Rett…megoh…"
The cold metal of the arrow touched the human's brow, and Inuyasha realized that this person could do considerable damage, considering that her arrow had oh, so conveniently, been thrust in his shoulder, causing the hand he was now strangling her with to be weak and without resistance. Suddenly he felt lightheaded, and with reluctance, his arm dropped to the mossy ground—wondering to himself whether his death was upon him.
To his mild surprise, the figure did not move, and was silent for a moment, before questioning.
"Are you a demon?"
Sighing, feeling extremely weak, he grumbled irritably, "Would that make a difference? What if I was?"
The girl, Inuyasha figured, gave a small sort of sigh, and then asked, "What I mean is…were you trying to kill me?"
Laughing softly, although it hurt like hell to do so, Inuyasha retorted, "Do you think I would really tell you that?"
From somewhere in the forest, rustles could be heard, creeks and groans. The forest was coming alive with the worst sort of beings. Beings that even he, Inuyasha, could not even kill in his weakened state.
"Can you stand?"
"What the hell are you babbling about now, wench?" Inuyasha groaned, wondering how long he could stay conscious. The darkness that clouded his vision was beginning to seem tempting, compared to this social chit chat of this stupid villager.
"Damn," Kagome said silently, "We have to get out of here. If I support you, do you think you could walk?"
Snorting in indifference, he teased, "Took you a while now, didn't it?"
"Just be quiet." She replied hastily, as she tried to hoist him onto her shoulder, most delicately avoiding his shoulder, where it was still trickling a steady stream of blood. Directing him in the direction she was traveling originally, Kagome thought darkly that there was no way she would return home unnoticed. Not with dried blood on her cheek, dirt on her face—yes, perhaps Yuki had been right in her apprehension.
The progress was slow, yet steady and for a while neither spoke. Notions, although of different varieties, clouded their thoughts. And yet, as they continued walking, the silence grew to be uncomfortable—along with the fact that the scent of lilac's was beginning to dimly register in Inuyasha's brain. The fact that his wife had run away was forgotten for a moment, yet now it came back and snarled at him with vehement ferocity.
"My…" Inuyasha groaned, "My wife…I have to go get her."
Kagome said nothing, and continued to trudge along. The fortress was now in view.
"Listen, girl, I need to go back and find her."
She stopped, and refusing to look at him, she sighed, "You're not going to find her in the condition you're in anyways. So just be quiet."
"What do you know?" Inuyasha snarled, his strength momentarily returning.
"I know that you're hurt, because of me. I'm sorry about that…"
There was a pause, and the sounds of four feet crunching against gravel and rock could be heard.
"Sorry?" Inuyasha questioned, confused by the action. Yet, he would not reveal that he could be so easily won, "Like that helps."
"No. It doesn't. You're right. So, just be quiet."
It was beginning to irk him now, this scent of lilacs. It was exactly like the type she wore. Yet, perhaps it was a popular scent…
Ten more minutes passed in silence. Finally, Inuyasha questioned, "Where are you taking me?"
Adjusting her bow on her shoulder, she replied, "To your lord's residence. I'm sure he will do something…if he does not yell at me first…"
There was a laugh, a hard laugh and yet strangely gentle and amused around the edges, "Oh really? Why? Did you insult him?"
"I don't know about that. I think he is too proud to be insulted." Kagome mused to herself, stumbling slightly.
"Oh? Really? Now, this is getting interesting!" Inuyasha exclaimed, being both pleased and repulsed at the same time. "Why do you say that? Do you know him?"
The scent was really quite uncanny.
"Do you?" Kagome questioned, poking fun at this stranger.
"Very well, actually." Inuyasha admitted, puffing his chest slightly, except it hurt him to do so.
The girl made no reply, but instead quickened her pace as they began the ascent to the castle, located on top of a small hill.
Scirting the main entrance to the building, she took a small path, mostly used by servants, to the back of the house, to where there was a small door.
"We could have gone in the back way." Inuyasha whispered angrily.
"Yes. You are right. But we didn't, but you're not leading me." Kagome spat hurriedly, taking a key from her pocket and inserting it into the worn brass lock. The door opened, and the two entered, much to Inuyasha's abhorrence.
Slowly the two made their way to the back porch, where Yuki was slicing potatoes into a large pot. The girl looked up, and her jaw dropped.
"My lady! What happened?!" Dropping the knife and potato into the pot in her hurry she stumbled through the garden towards the illuminated figure. Her eyes once again became wide, and dropping to the ground, she sputtered, "My lord! I…I did not know it was you…! Your appearance altered…!"
All this took place in a matter of seconds.
Then all chaos broke loose.
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A pair of deep black eyes gazed intensely at the keeper of two deep sapphire eyes from where the figure was positioned. The keeper of these black eyes contorted his face into an expression of irritability and annoyance. The keeper of the blue eyes remained impassive, refusing to grant contact. The keeper of a pair of brown eyes entered the room, his arms full of a variety of dishes, bowels, teapots, and cups.
The blue eyed figure rushed forward, exclaiming, "Oh, here, Miroku-san. Let me help you with that."
The brown eyes, now named as Miroku, gave a sigh of thanks, and replied, "Thank you, Kagome-sama."
He paused, eyeing the black-eyed man, his expression of sympathy as well as slight amusement.
"How is he?"
Kagome glanced hurriedly in the same direction, aware that the murky eyes were following her again.
"Well…he has a slight fever now. I guess his…" she paused, "His human body isn't used to this sort of treatment."
Miroku clucked sympathetically as he knelt down and brought out a box, which would serve as a temporary table in the lady's room.
"Excuse me, Miroku-san…" Kagome began gently, kneeling alongside the seated advisor, "I was wondering, actually, hoping if…"
Miroku turned and looked at her, his eyes questioning, dancing with merriment from some hidden joke, "Yes?"
"If you would not call me Kagome-sama." She breathed a little nervously, dishing out a thin broth in a lacquer bowl, "You can just call me Kagome. We are friends, ne?"
Opening a lacquer box that emitted a large amount of steam, Miroku answered, "Alright. Formalities aside then, correct?"
"Yes. Formalities aside." Kagome agreed, grinning slightly as she added a bit of fried rice, now hard, into the soup. As it entered the steamy liquid, it crackled and sizzled.
The two remained quiet, while Kagome poured a cup of tea and Miroku thoughtfully chewed on some rice.
"Oi!" Inuyasha piped up suddenly, moving a bit too fast, and falling down against his pillow, "I'm starving! And YOU-," he yelled angrily (pointing to Miroku) "Are sitting here eating in front of me!"
Pushing his lord down with his hand, Miroku replied, "Your lady is preparing your food. After all, she did wound you."
Inuyasha stared at his mistress, her face still stained with his dried human blood, her cheek still slightly dirty from the forest. She looked rather sad at the moment. And quietly he asked himself where the spirited girl had known earlier had disappeared to. Not far, he would find in a moment.
"I am sorry about that." She replied quickly, flashing a quick, embarrassed glance at her husband, "But if you would have told me you turned human on the night of the new moon I probably would have expected a long black haired thing to be running through the forest!"
Inuyasha tried to sit up again, and Miroku, again, pushed him down(,). "Listen you," he struggled angrily, "I wouldn't have had to get shot in my shoulder if YOU had just stayed put, like you're supposed to do."
Kagome glowered angrily at him, "I am not supposed to do anything. It's my own life, not yours. And, since you don't take any interest as it is, what concern am I?"
"I do take interest." Inuyasha insisted, eyeing the food hungrily.
"I'm sure." She objected. "Now sit up."
Deciding since she had the food it was best not to argue, he diligently did as he was told.
Kagome pointed to a variety of things that lay on a tray. "Here is broth, and tea and rice and a few pickled vegetables."
"T-That's it?!" he sputtered.
"You have a slight fever, and your body is in shock. By tomorrow morning, you will probably be fine, where if you so please, you can go raid the kitchen." Kagome hissed as she stood up quickly and explained, "I am going to bathe. Excuse me."
She left, as she had that morning, irked. The screen shut swiftly behind her, echoing in the quiet room.
"Well," Miroku chewed, "I am glad that progress is being made."
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The next morning dawned cool and fresh, the sky speckled with a few clouds. Opening his golden eyes, Inuyasha wondered momentarily where exactly he was. He had become rather used to sleeping in other noble's houses on a day's visit, not his own. Moving slightly, he found a dull ache coming from his shoulder, and the previous nights' events washed over him like a strange dream, neither unpleasant nor enjoyable. Sitting up slowly, he was stunned to find his wife sleeping soundly on the cold tatami mat. Her face was that of utter exhaustion. Glancing about her, he found a half empty bowl of water, and a washcloth hanging on the side. She, he surmised, must have stayed awake all night waiting for the fever to break, feeding him fluids every hour.
Dimly he remembered a quiet voice in the darkness and her cool hand on his forehead.
Against his better will, he smiled softly, before covering her with his blanket.
He would have to stay for a few more days. Yet, compared to yesterday, the prospect did not seem so bad.