Series: Inuyasha
Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
Genre: action/romance/adventure/drama
Rating: pg13
Characters: Inuyasha, Kikyou, Naraku, Hojo
Disclaimers: I do not own Inuyasha, and any references I make to poetry are not my own as well.
An: This chapter is a weird one, and is going to be rather short in comparison to past ones. I think, in general, most chapters in part III shall be shorter, because it will be flashes of scenes before the oncoming of the war. So, instead of the usual 9-12 pages it will probably be 6-9 although I might carry over from time to time. Anyways, this chapter is strange in that…I don't know, it is another chapter full of revelations, and the introduction to a new character rather late in the story, but nevertheless, it is strange. Naraku is particularly perverted in this chapter, and I attribute this to a book of haiku I bought (I really should have read over the back cover). This guy who wrote these things was such a…lecher! I mean, gosh, he talks about very "private" stuff that I shall not mention due to…—well, use your imagination. Anyways, I figured I might as well use a bit of it for Naraku. After all, he is so horny all the time anyways, it doesn't really matter!
Warnings: later in the chapter it gets pretty lemony, but no worries, nothing you guys can't handle. Nothing obscene at all…just…well….you'll see…
Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
The first chapter of Part III
Chapter 23
Under the Glass Moon
The night seemed quiet and subdued compared to the others. For the past month or so, the evenings were splattered with raindrops and the howl of wind, if not the occasional flash of lightening and boom of thunder. During those nights hesitation lurked on the wing, it hung in the air like the mists huddled protectively over the rice fields. The deep evergreen trees closed in about the fortress of Naraku, blocking out the world as though this mountaintop was a room within a large house—and the shoji screens were closed all about. There was hardly a whisper of another soul, no footsteps, no murmur of voices. There was only nature and its constant hum, its rhythmic tick, its breaths when it chose to breathe.
Inuyasha lay reclined against the pagoda that rested on the edge of Naraku's property, overlooking a steep drop and the forest below. It was a sharp drop, drifting off into nowhere. It was strangely hypnotic though, the nothingness that possessed it. The edge drew people to its side, as though realizing the power that unsure footsteps could carry.
Adjusting his position slightly, he sipped at the chilled sake and thought deeply about the situation at hand. In less than a week he would be going to war against his brother, his one and only blood relative. It struck him only slightly strange that he should be carrying out such an action, still the fact remained that his brother had yet to pay for the high crimes he had committed those many years ago.
The blood appeared once again in front of his eyes; her body lying there, floating amongst the field of green, how innocent was the picture painted. The mountains, like those surrounding him, looked quietly on, as they always did, never murmuring a word of condolence. The world had been cruelly silent that day so long ago—the world had been watching his downfall, and had been for some time now. Even the stalks of rice growing from the water did not deign to brush his skin; the world saw him as untouchable, a blemish...
He heard the crunch of gravel behind him, and turning ever so slightly, he found that it was Kikyou who was heading his way from across the pavilion. Her scent greeted his nostrils a moment later; the sweetness of the passion fruit mingled with the deep piney fragrance of cypress.
As Inuyasha watched her stride across the distance that parted them, her steps long and delicate, he found his heart both comforted and wrenched at the same time. Kikyou was what he had dreamed of and desired for so many years; she was his soul mate. Yet, the nervous feeling of guilt and anticipation still flooded his body every time he laid eyes on her. Was Kikyou something sacred that he, one with a bloodstained past, was not allowed to look upon?
Had he forgotten he had a wife, who at this moment in time he had not a clue on her whereabouts?
For that matter, he knew of nobody's existence besides Kikyou, Naraku, Sesshoumaru and his own. Everyone else beyond the vast lands lay shrouded in mystery, their shapes familiar to him, but intangible no matter how close he became. Even their voices were but a distant memory in his past.
He would not deny that he felt guilt. After all, he had strictly disobeyed Miroku's warning and become practically isolated from his people during the prelude to the war. There was not an inkling in his mind to suggest that his subjects would not obey his command. He had set about many generals and officers throughout his stay at Naraku's fortress, although most were appointed through long, lengthy letters. Yet, he insisted, he had done his duty to his people. It was not as though he had exclaimed the day before the war was about to break out that, "Yes, you will be fighting tomorrow. You should begin to prepare."
It was not as though their bodies would be torn to shreds without mercy. Yes, for some, the highest honor they would ever achieve would be to die in battle—and this was not even a guarantee.
It was not as though he had thrown them to the wolves.
He told this to himself many a time.
Inuyasha smiled softly and looked at Kikyou who walking into the pagoda and settling herself down, cradled in his arms. For her, he had risked his life, his honor, his country—and although he loved her with every ounce of his being, he silently wondered: Was she worth it?
Was the past more substantial then the present?
Inuyasha was not sure.
But then of course, he was unsure about so many things. His emotions towards Kikyou, and his wife Kagome, the faith he held in Naraku, the outcome of the war.
"It is three days away," Kikyou whispered, burying her head against the silks of Inuyasha's garments. She was warm.
Lowering his head down so that he could breathe in her distinctive scent, he murmured, "Yes, it is."
Three days away. For some, an eternity—but to Inuyasha, only a blink of an eye.
His men were ready, as the letters supposedly said, and willing to fight. There was nothing to fear, all had been assured he would win, especially with Naraku's territory being pivotal in the capturing of his brother's men and fortress.
Inuyasha wished this war to be quick and decisive, like a crack of lightening splitting apart a tree in a storm.
Inuyasha had seen war, oh yes, he had witnessed it many a time before. He had seen the fear in their eyes, the hot angry tears of defeat and loss and death. He had witnessed even the most honorable of men being struck down by the most foolhardy soldiers with most blunt of swords.
Yes, he had seen it all.
He had watched as men were split in two, their blood poured out of their bodies like rain from the heavens. He had watched as men continued to stagger on for a few more seconds, headless, only to collapse to the ground. He had cried over his lost friends and comrades, he had sobbed for the children who lay dead at the side of the road; their fanciful yukata's stained with brown blood.
He was no novice when it came to war.
It was for this reason that Inuyasha had vowed, whatever the outcome of this battle was to be, that this would be the last war he would enter willingly. In the future, if he were to be subject to such torment again, he would do so kicking and yelling and brandishing people with the power of his sword.
"Something troubles you…," Kikyou whispered, looking up and running her index finger along his profile. Her finger pulled on his lips slightly, and lifting her head up, she kissed him softly. It was not a passionate kiss like those they shared in the darkness of their room, but soft, quiet and mournful.
"Yes," Inuyasha conceded, "But soon it will be over. There is much to do as it is, and I feel so unprepared and anxious." His nervousness was as apparent as the red of his hakama against a snowy scene.
"The war?" Kikyou inquired, placing her head against his chest again, closing her eyes.
"Yes. I am not sure—I do not want people to die, but then again…Sesshoumaru," Inuyasha paused and sighed. His voice was heavy and thick, the motion had already been decided. The war was now as inevitable as the snows of winter and the rains of spring; there was no turning back for him, for Kikyou, for anyone. Yes, death was already inscribed in the stars.
The two were quiet and gazed out at the landscape of blackness. Behind them lay the light of civilization and before them lay the darkness of the wild. The darkness was enticing in some way. To Kikyou and Inuyasha, the darkness had the opposite affects on them. They were moths, not drawn to the light, but drawn to what not could be easily seen, what could only be imagined; they were drawn to the future. But their future was death, as was the past.
Neither seemed appealing.
The wind stirred their hair, causing their scents to intertwine for a moment in time.
"Inuyasha," Kikyou whispered cautiously, sitting up now so that she was looking directly into his dark umber eyes.
He did not reply, but instead shifted his gaze towards her. For the first time that evening Inuyasha became aware of her expression; one that was soaked and fermented in her own sorrow.
"There is something I must tell you…," Kikyou admitted, slowly, carefully, clearly.
Although Kikyou knew the truth when it came to Naraku, she had to make sure that she did not give away too much information. She could not tell Inuyasha that it was Naraku who killed her, not Sesshoumaru. That information could wait until a later time, until all could be fixed and she would once again return to…but it was not matter, her destiny lay in the stars. And who was she to try to move the heavens?
"I died," She began gently, "As you know. But it was Naraku who brought me back."
Inuyasha was alert now, no longer sighing in a reverie filled with the mangled bodies of war. He was now, here, in the present; directing all his attention towards the one he loved.
"What do you mean, Naraku? I mean, yes, I had a general idea, but why?" He was confused, angered, ashamed and puzzled.
Kikyou paused for a long moment as she took Inuyasha's hand and placed it on her cheek. She buried her face there, against the sharpness of his claws that glinted in the darkness. For a moment she appeared as though she was about to cry, her tears as unstoppable as a flood. But the dam of her heart remained intact, as did her strength.
"For you, Inuyasha. He wanted you to be his ally; he wanted you to be on his side. He knew if I was brought back that you would do anything." Kikyou's voice was heavy and full of truth and wisdom, not flightily and sensual like the dark warlord who was experiencing the ultimate pleasures within the privacy of his bedchamber by a girl he would never learn the name of. Yes, there was strength and sorrow combined as the sunlight combined beautifully with the rain clouds.
He opened his mouth to speak, anger and humiliation etched on his still boyish face. He was flushed, and embarrassed. His golden eyes seemed suddenly turbulent as a sea, and the emotion crashed against the rocks of his heart without mercy.
Kikyou brought her hand to his lips.
"No. Wait. There is more to tell you, and time is scarce and precious here, where he always watches."
Her words were a mystery to him, but he did not question and silently gave in. Kikyou knew what lay behind the shoji screens while he was content to look away and become distracted by other things; such as his brother and war. Yes, she could slide open the screens with much more grace and artistry—she could look at their depths with an emotionless face. Kikyou could see all that he could, but at the same time he could see nothing.
"I am not really alive, you see. I am alive, yes—but I rely on the souls of the dead to nourish me. No, wait, let me finish—,"
He had opened his mouth again and then promptly shut it. His anger was rising as steam did from a kettle of boiling water. What was this she spoke? How much happened that he was unaware? Why was it he who always proved the fool in such matters? Oh, he could kill, he could be powerful—but his power never seemed to lie with such wisdom that Kikyou held like a treasured comb, tucked away in her ebony hair.
"You see, Inuyasha, I can never truly be alive in this world if Kagome is alive as well."
"What do you mean?" Kagome…Kagome, his wife. Kagome who might have been alive. Kagome who might have been dead. Kagome, his wife.
But how was it possible that she knew of her? Not only had their marriage been minimally publicized, but also he had never spoken to Kikyou of her. Any emotion he held towards the girl lay locked within his heart, and it would never be opened, not while he had Kikyou. Kikyou surpassed everything to him; Kikyou was his life and his death. And what was Kagome? Kagome was his reality…a reality he did not want to face.
But that did not change the fact that Kikyou knew of her. The only other possibility was that it was Naraku who had told her. Naraku knew he had been married, was that not correct? Naraku knew what a traitor he was, Naraku knew of his secrets hidden in the dark…
Fear clutched as his heart and an ice was replaced for his blood. It was only now, amongst the dark, that Inuyasha realized how powerful Naraku truly was. If the dark lord wished he could throw Inuyasha into jail, or kill him, or ruin his reputation, or…
"You see, Kagome is the reincarnation of me, and as such, we two cannot realistically live in the same spiritual plane. Here, now, in the present—it is one or the other. If Kagome dies, then I return, and if I die, the part of Kagome's soul that I have borrowed will be returned to her."
Kagome was the reincarnation of Kikyou…
The ice would not melt. It remained there, gripping his body, taunting it, yelling in his ear, bribing it into a pointless anger.
If that was the case then…was all this in vain? Wasn't this war a farce? And what of Kagome? My God, what if she was dead? What if she had been sold into prostitution!? What if…!?
But now was not the time or place for what ifs. What ifs were for tomorrow, or the next day; but now they only proved as hindrances.
"You took part of her soul?" His voice was irritated, angry and hurt. He felt foolish, like a child left in a closet—scared of the dark, and too stupid to realize there was a window right next to him.
"To return to your side there was no other option. Naraku knew this…," Kikyou stopped and paused, her eyes flashing to the shoji screen across the courtyard. It began to open slowly.
"Please Inuyasha. Do not ask questions, nor do anything at all. If Naraku knew you held this information, he would kill me, do you understand?"
Inuyasha looked aghast and very pale. A cold sweat had begun to form on his brow, as though for the first time he realized how dangerously close to the edge he was, both literally and figuratively. Before him lay the cliff of fate and behind him laid another of destiny. Their paths were the same.
"Listen." She continued, touching his face, causing his eyes, which had been wandering across the courtyard, to remain once again on her face, "When I was first reincarnated, I remembered nothing. Naraku lied and told me that it was you who had killed me. I have learned that it was not you, and I remember the love we share. This emotion that you see now, it is the true and deepest love I feel for you. In the future, Naraku may try to sway you into killing me by admitting that I had been trying to kill you. Please, Inuyasha, trust me when I say I will love you beyond the grave."
Inuyasha was ghostly white now and looked at her as though truly seeing her for the very first time. It was as though during the course of this conversation, she had been reborn, a new person, one that he could touch and know the depth of her emotion. Yes, she was there, tangible to his fingertips. He reached out and touched her cheeks, longing to feel her lips against his…but there was no time.
A light sound of crunching gravel began to increment its way across the wide expanse.
He nodded, and closed his eyes as though trying to block out the world. There were so many things to sort out, so many things to realize—and he had been the fool, thinking that everything was fine and dandy, when in reality it was just hanging on. The cliffs of past and present called out to him now, their voices full of mockery, full of enjoyment, full of cruelty. Inuyasha had not a doubt in his mind that Naraku was a traitor and would stab him at his first opportunity. Yes, Naraku's eyes would appear in the night, by his side, his eyes gleaming as did the blade in his hand. And would he stop that bolt of lightening from touching him—or would it be as accepted as a summer thunderstorm? He was unsure…death became him so very well; it seemed, perhaps, it was time for him to wear its colors. Inuyasha had no doubts about the character of this man; it was only money and land which the lord wished to posses. But hadn't he known this from the beginning? Hadn't Miroku? Yes, it had been his own idiocy that had written his destiny, it had been he who played the foolish hand, and now look where it landed him? A place he could not even fathom. If he had allowed Naraku any humanity, it had disappeared, never to return. It was gone like the winter snow come spring.
Inuyasha saw for the first time, his eyes unclouded by his own will. He saw for the first time the true character of Naraku, of Kikyou—he saw the true character of the world. He saw how grasping it was, always demanding, always demanding. Always.
There was to be no rest for him now, not until death, or until the end of the war. Whichever came first.
"Good evening, you two," Naraku whispered, leaning against the stone columns, his dark curly hair cascading over his shoulders, glistening in the light of the house.
Inuyasha did not reply, for if he had he would have greeted the lord with his sword and parted with the stench of fresh blood on his clothes.
"Good evening," Kikyou whispered, looking up but not really seeing Naraku. Her eyes were not in focus as was the world.
He, of course, wished her to come to his chamber, as she did every night. Did this man's hunger never satiate? Was it always this constant yearning, and desire for the warm flesh of a woman? Was it always what lay between her legs that he desired, and not her mind, not her emotions, not her thoughts?
Oh, if Naraku had played his cards right, Kikyou had not a doubt that she would have continued living the lie of ignorance. If he had answered her questions instead of feeling himself inside her during the night—then perhaps she could have been satisfied. Perhaps she would have killed Inuyasha, perhaps she would have gone along with his plans. But Naraku was careless, particularly when it came to women. He only looked at them when they needed to be disposed of, or carefully arranged in such a way so as to attract the opposite sex. He did not value their opinion, he did not seek their advice, he did not inform them.
It enraged her.
But she did nothing, except smile and whisper sweet nothings to him in the dark. No, she was no longer the property of Naraku, she was that of Inuyasha; both during the day and the night. If she was to be forced to partake in the nightly activities, then it would be Inuyasha she would imagine atop her, and not the grinning smug face of this warlord. Yes, when he came it would be Inuyasha whispering in her ear, not his groans…
"What is it that you do?" Naraku inquired as he seated himself down and sprawled himself against the railing.
"We talk of the moon." Kikyou whispered, gazing up at the nearly whole moon that hung in the darkened night sky like an ornament or lantern from Obon.
"It will be full when we go to war." Naraku replied absently, his eyes not on the orb, but on Kikyou, his teeth glimmering in the night. "You will be at the peak of your power."
"Yes," Inuyasha whispered, his voice hallow and lacking conviction. He did not look at Naraku.
The three remained there, under the glass moon.
"I have composed a poem," Kikyou faltered, trying to take the burden of the conversation upon her shoulders. Inuyasha had yet to pull himself out of the quagmire of the truth. She had to change the present so it would not affect her future.
"Oh?" Naraku whispered, his sculpted eyebrows rising in amusement.
Leaning forward, he poured himself a shallow glass of sake. He would not stay long.
"Clear Cascades,
In the waves immaculate
The summer moon"
Inuyasha murmured appreciation, and then admitted, "I too have a poem. I have thought of it just now."
"Well, quality is not necessarily important. It is the message that remains true," Naraku admitted, gulping down the sake in one go. He coughed slightly and his eyes slid to Kikyou. She pretended to ignore him. If she was to be part of Naraku's nightly meal, then she would be the most difficult dish to kill before tasting.
Inuyasha cleared his throat, the deepness to his voice having returned somewhat.
"Even in its scabbard
My sword sees you."
All was quiet, except for the lonely crickets in some high mountain top meadow. The wind from the east ruffled their hair again, laughing softly through their ears.
"Is that what you will say to Sesshoumaru when you plan to kill him?" Naraku questioned innocently, though his eyes had lost all merriment.
"No."
*
She awoke dimly to feel the sensation of lips pressed against her own. For an instant, she thought that it was Inuyasha who lay beside her and has his arms gently wrapped against her bare body. She returned the kiss, still half asleep, and slowly it deepened. Kikyou's eyes had yet to open.
But when the kiss ended and she blinked unsteadily into the shadows of the night, she found Naraku looking at her, a strange look of fascination on his features. It was an expression she had never seen before—a hopeful one, full of innocence, and happiness and joy…
"Kikyou…," he whispered, fingering a piece of her hair and then bringing it to his lips, "I…"
He stopped, and did not continue. His deep eyes were once again looking at her, his lips were slightly parted, and shifting his position, he leaned atop her and slipped his tongue into her mouth. It was the gentlest kiss she had ever received in her life—soft and slow and mournful.
Nevertheless, it was Naraku, not Inuyasha who gave her this.
For one night, she had hoped desperately, she would have avoided Naraku's grasp. However, such was not the case. How the lord had managed it, she had not a clue. The last thing she remembered was curling up in Inuyasha's embrace.
Yet now, she was here again, in the room she had come to know so well. The sight and smell of it sickened her. It was too clean and too immaculate to be a room that was so used to the nightly use and disturbances.
Kikyou knew what his room normally looked like; a mess of papers, cups, sheets and blankets. For some strange reason, it was only presentable during the nights that she slept with him. For those hours they were together, for those interminable hours which brought her no happiness.
In the darkness, she felt him slowly crawl unto of her and tenderly began to undue her yukata. She grabbed his hand and whispered, "No."
Although she could not see him, she could feel him, pressed against her and ready for action.
Suddenly, he did not move, he did not breathe—it was as though he had abruptly realized something. Something very important…
When he spoke again, there was no gentle tone to his voice; his words were dangerous and sharp and poisoned as they so often were, "Do not make Inuyasha awake to a murdered lover."
He withdrew for a second and cast a strange look in her direction, his long hair falling about him. Although his face was like a mask, there was a strange sparkle and glow in his eyes, as though the moonlight from the shoji screen was caught in tears.
Yet that was insane, Naraku would not cry. It was a trick, an illusion of the night—Naraku was incapable of such emotions!
"He would suspect; I'm sure of it. And then, Naraku, he would kill you." Kikyou whispered her voice full of hatred.
Naraku did not move, but instead sat hunched, his head buried in his hands as though he was about to collapse. His body shivered and sobbed for but a moment, and slowly, it eased once again he was quiet.
Hoisting herself up silently, Kikyou looked at him almost in concern. What could be the cause for the problem? Did her words actually…affect him?
She was back against the futon in a snap, and blinking. She was shocked as Naraku lay atop her, his hands quietly running through her long hair, his lips trailing up and down her neck. He stopped, and breathed in deeply as though treasuring her scent, as though holding dear something so far away, something distant and intangible.
His breath warm against her cheeks as his dark, quiet, deep voice inquired, "Oh? Do you believe so? Inuyasha, kill me? My dear Kikyou, he has grown weak—you are a drug to him as you are to many, one that sucks all his energy and time and…and..," he paused, and clutched at her body, as if holding on for dear life, "And any piece of mind. You do not cease from his mind, you are there in the day and the night. You haunt him. And there is no escape. He would not win, nor more so than a praying mantis would have against his wife. My victory in all cases is inevitable. You and I, He and I—we will all be connected one day, under me. You…you will be mine…Do you understand?"
He began to undo her cotton yukata, still holding down her hands with his strong arms. A grin, almost melancholy in appearance, spread across his face, and taking time to lean down into a kiss, he whispered huskily, "I've given up trying to extinguish the fire in my body. For me, there is no difference between reading, eating or singing; making love is not one thing or the other. To me, there is only you beneath me. The other girls are only toys I play with—but all day, it is you who remains on my mind. It is you who brings my hunger."
He began to trail down her body in kisses, over her collarbone, over her chest, her breast, her torso, her legs…and down…and down…and down….
Kikyou began to cry, but she was helpless, as she always was. Such was the way of life; such was the way of war. The strong ruled over the weak, and the weak plotted against the strong. Who would be the victor?
The swaying pine trees in the painted picture—who would hear the wind howl through their boughs?
Naraku sighed silently to himself—sure of the outcome to the warfare, sure that this prize which lay beneath him would be his until the end—sure of nothing and everything at the same time. Perhaps that night, for the first time, he held Kikyou close after the deed, and whispered tenderly in her ear as she drifted off to sleep…
*
The morning had dawned with an autumn–like atmosphere. The light seemed more golden, richer, and sensual. There was a light wind in the air, just enough to allow the wind bells scattered around the compounds to chime in beauteous tones. The grass was wet and fresh with thick and heavy dew, almost giving it the impression as though it had rained heavily the night before. The air itself also seemed crisper, cleaner, and more pure than Inuyasha had remembered it to be. Although he had awoken to find Kikyou absent, he had grown accustomed to this. Usually, she rose before him and breakfasted by herself. She would then return to the main dining hall in time to welcome Inuyasha and Naraku who would usually sleep in until nine o'clock. Both were similar in this regard.
When he opened the shoji screen that led to the dining room, Inuyasha was mildly surprised to find that the room was already occupied. Not only was Kikyou sitting placidly looking out the window, but Naraku was chewing on a piece of pickled melon rind chatting amiably with another person he had never before laid eyes on.
The man was handsome in a boyish way, with sandy colored hair and rather fair skin. From his scent, Inuyasha knew immediately that the man was no youkai, or hanyou for that matter. The mysterious stranger was human.
The most normal one out of us, Inuyasha thought darkly as he closed the screen behind him.
The three looked up, and Kikyou's cheeks immediately flushed for some indescribable reason. Naraku on the other hand, looked up and smirked in his arrogant way, and welcomed, "Ah, Inuyasha, come and join us."
As if he had any other choice.
Nodding, he seated himself automatically next to Kikyou and watched as a mysterious servant entered into the room and presented him with the normal miso soup, rice, natto, and grilled fish. The tea was already on the table, still steaming.
Pouring himself a cup, he sniffed it questionably.
"Seasame seed tea?" he questioned absently as he sipped it.
Nobody made a reply, but all watched him intently.
Stirring the natto slightly with a pair of dark stained chopsticks, he applied some to the top of his rice and began to mix it together. Chewing contently (Inuyasha hadn't realized how hungry he was until this moment) he looked from Kikyou to Naraku and finally to the mysterious young gentleman who was seated across from him, smiling curiously.
Suddenly, the young man flushed and scooted back from the table and sank down into a ridiculously low and formal bow.
"Excuse me for my ignorance, Inuyasha-sama!" He explained hastily, the tips of his ears had gone red.
Blinking, Inuyasha raised his eyebrows in question and looked to Naraku to provide an explanation. Inuyasha was aware of the sharp glint in Naraku's eyes as they turned towards him.
"Ah, forgive my rudeness; I did not introduce you two." Naraku waved breezily, a fan in one hand. He bit on the tip of it for a moment, and then continued on, a smug grin resting on his handsome features, "This, Inuyasha, is your colonel, Hojo."
It took Inuyasha a moment to register that this must have been the one who he had appointed through long and lengthy letters. Looking at him in a different light, Inuyasha found it rather hard to believe that this man could have partaken in the amount of war he had described. The boy hardly looked over nineteen, and innocence still shone in his carefree eyes.
"I am not what you had expected?" Hojo laughed nervously, his face still flushed and full of anticipation.
Inuyasha coughed slightly, lowered his eyes, and admitted truthfully, "No, you
were not."
Naraku chuckled a low and dark laugh and added, "Yes, indeed. I do have to admit that I was shocked when I saw him arriving at the gate this morning. Yet, his papers do check out, as does his birth certificate, so we must assume that he is who he claims to be."
Inuyasha glared at Naraku for a moment before turning his eyes once again to Hojo. He found himself smiling as he spoke, "I am sure that Hojo will prove himself in the battlefield."
Kikyou, speaking for the first time, whispered softly, "One cannot tell whether a person is good or bad by his vicissitudes in life. Good and bad fortunes are matters of fate..."
Hojo's face reddened slightly and looked down into his lap and murmured, "I hope to prove to you my strength, Inuyasha-sama."
Outside, the wind picked up, the bell dancing in the current causing it to chime throughout the room. Its echo died almost immediately, as though the dining chamber sucked up all sounds and all memories of the past. The teapot continued to steam merrily in the center of the room, the steam drifting out towards the open shoji screen that led to the garden. Even the steam wished to be rid of this room, be rid of the atmosphere.
The war was in two days now. Slowly, time danced about them, a slow and sorrowful dance. Yes, two more nights…two more nights under that glass moon…
And would it shatter?
***
**
*
natto: steamed soybeans fermented in straw with a slimy consistency. It is eaten, mixed with soy sauce, mustard or minced green onions.
AN: For some reason, that chapter, although IY/K/H/ and N filled seemed very…I don't know, poetic. I must have been in a really good mood when I wrote that chapter, or else really inspired. I don't know then, eh?
Anyways, hope you enjoyed this chapter, the first part to Part III of the Shoji Saga!! YAyyy!
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