Series: Inuyasha
Title: Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
Chapter 26
Main characters: Naraku
Rating: pg13
AN: This chapter is unlike any chapter I have done so far to this story. It is a first person narrative, and as such is in a different format. I warn the readers before hand, that this *being* Naraku, there will be some sexual content, but nothing particularly bad. In any case, enjoy the chapter.
Warnings: slight sexual content
Shadows Against a Shoji Screen
Chapter 26
Pillow Book
*
Ah, you wish to know of my life do you? What a story it is to tell, what potential it has.
Many years ago, oh, many many years ago, I was born in the slums of Edo. My father was Shinji Suzuki, a most common name if I had ever heard one. My mother in turn was to be Hanako Suzuki. Her maiden name before she married my father was, Itounoji—some unheard of house with not an ounce of samurai blood in their lineage. My mother had no hopes for grandeur. Even with her first breath, her destiny had already been decided for her. Ah, pitiful thing.
From before I was conceived, it seemed that everything was against me.
My father had talent, no doubt, to be one of the greatest swords crafters in all Japan, and had traveled to Edo at the age of 25 to be apprenticed to the current master of the art. It is indeed a great tragedy however that my father found his calling for the art of wielding the sword too late in life. Twenty five years old is an age in that craft when you are considered 'gone to seed' if you are still a novice—my father, although blessed with talent had wasted away his earlier years in typical teenage fashions. Yet, getting back to my father and his fruitless dreams…
Unfortunately, on his way to Edo, taking a mountain road, he was robbed by a gang of mountain bandits. By the time he arrived, he was penniless and half crazed with hunger.
It was a romantic tale, some say, the way my father met my mother. I find the whole affair foolish.
My mother, Hanako, was a prostitute, and not a highly respected one at that. She was the type who was at the disposal of the sailors rather than the noble class or Samurai. She owned only one silk kimono, its colors fading and the embroidery becoming unstitched. It had been her grandmother's.
One night, or so it is rumored, the night my father stumbled into the wrong side of Tokyo, she found him collapsed against the side of the street. The thought of him being a murderer, or a slave seller, or a rapist did not cross her mind. My mother was sweet to a fault—she was a weak woman, despite the hard background she came from. Of course, being the good misunderstood woman that she was, she took him home, of course, and nourished him back to health. How romantic, some said. How cliché, I say.
From this point on, it was tragedy after tragedy.
During a very short period of time, everything was going happily. My father had a job at a bentou-ya saving up his money so he could return to his craft and my mother had found a job in a hotel serving customers food and not her body.
Yes, everything was roses and sweets for them. Yes, a future hung in front of them; a happy life, a prosperous life, a life filled with love.
And then, I happened.
Oh, yes, I am sure that if she had lived, things would have been different. If she had not been such a physically weak woman, her body might have been able to handle the entire process. My life might have been very different if Hanako, my mother who I would never truly know, had lived. We might have not lived in the Tokyo slums, my father might not have become a raving alcoholic who was eventually murdered by a Tokyo gang he owed money to. I, eventually, might not have been abandoned in my house for seven days, waiting patiently for my father to return home—something he obviously never did.
Oh, how old was I then? Yes, I think I was nine…or perhaps eight…it all seems so muddled now, but that is of no importance. I was young, do you understand? I was too young to go through that crap that I went through.
But, if there is anything that I am; it is that I am a survivor. I might be on the brink of death, or half crazy, or paralyzed—but I can always bounce back. You will never be able to see the end of me, that is, until I eventually die. Yet, death is inevitable as the sunset, is it not? Days are very long for me, and at this point of time during my life, I see no problem in tweaking with God's hands.
(This woman, well technically she is a servant, but a woman nonetheless, is not very experienced when it comes to the art of making love, now is she? She just does things, hoping I will respond…and I am not. How disappointing. Girls hired, especially from Edo, aren't what they used to be.
She has decided to take a different approach now. Do excuse me for the interruption, but I have priorities.
Ah, yes, she is learning now…
Have some tea in the meanwhile.)
Now, where was I? Oh, yes, Nine or ten. Well, after that, I wandered around listlessly for a year, in and out of Tokyo, just barely holding on. I ate anything and everything—trash, old fish, leftovers…I slept anywhere, in barns, haystacks, back alleyways. Had it not been so damn inconvenient, the whole experience might have been fun. Finally, I got a job running errands for the noble house of Fujiwarano, and did such things as getting the daily tofu, rice, and sending unimportant love letters. Considering I was so young and scrawny, and cursed with such an unimportant name as "Takejiro Suzuki" I am surprised they let me do anything at all, or even give me wages.
But they did. And that was that. I cannot help it if people are kind. Am I a kind person, I wonder? Sometimes I believe so, but then, at the same time I ponder—is being kind extremely over rated? Why let someone off easy when they deserve just what they get?
Continuing on…
Perhaps the greatest asset I retained from the Fujiwarano residence was learning how to read. Yes, probably reading was what brought me to where I am today. And my, how some people would curse the written word if they heard this knowledge. Yet, there it is.
I learned how to read, and with that came hidden knowledge and depth and words of wisdom that I had not even deigned possible. What I read I consumed and it was stored forever in my mind, and I often referenced to it when talking to the nobles every now and then when they asked if I had got the fish for the evening's meal. Yes, alluding to past literary works and history dates can be very good if you wanted to impress the noble lords.
And, impress them I did. It only took a few years.
From age, oh, thirteen through seventeen I became the advisor to a noble house located in Kyoto—of course, I changed my name, and the alternation of puberty can change ones look drastically. I was no longer the son of Shiji Suzuki, known as Takejiro Suzuki—no, I was, oh what did I call myself then? Really, I have had too many names to count…I believe at this point in time I was Akira Takehatsu son of Roushuu Takehatsu.
While at Kyoto, I was the advisor and wrote out all the important documentation to the lord Matsuhiro Ito. I learned much about the real workings of war and politics while there, and realized that there is only so much you can learn in books and that life has to teach you the rest.
In Kyoto, that was the first time I tasted the sexual delights that the world had to offer. I was sixteen that first time, and the woman, whose name was ironically Hanako (my mother's name, if your memory fails you) was twenty-seven. Her 'career' as she called it, was nearly over, and she had decided to retire to the rural community and become a countryside whore, where her only customers would be the occasional farmers and she could live her life in somewhat peace. She called me, "her last taste of the youth"—but as it turned out, I would be a course that would not end for some three of four years. To put it succinctly, I became her lover and supported her to the best of my ability. Yes, with Hanako I was satisfied, at least physically…but mentally, I still desired so much more knowledge and power.
Such desire created a path that would determine my place in the world. My body may rot away, I may be forgotten, but my ideals, my memories…I wonder, will they bloom come next spring?
I knew the key to success would be patience. It had been demonstrated numerous times in history that the greed of man led to their downfall. So, I waited and learned, and consumed, and drank the sweet liquid of Hanako and called myself content.
I must say though, that Hanako taught me much in the art of love—so many radical ideas I had not thought possible. She told me of books and wall scrolls where the acts we formed in the bedroom were demonstrated; she helped define my style as a whole. Yes, I will never forget Hanako, wherever she may be…if she is even alive.
Life is fleeting, as the samurai say, like the cherry blossoms of life. I must enjoy my time in full blossom, and I intend to do so. No, the cherry blossom season is not over yet—we still have much time to go.
The master I worked for in my location was lenient and wise in his judgment. Although strict when I was in his company, he allowed me much freedom so that I could increase my knowledge in every way possible. I took up many hobbies, such as calligraphy, kendo, judo, shogi, archery, and the most enjoyable of all, the game of Igo.
There was something transfixing about those black and white stones that were cool to the touch. There was something of war and passion and desire and anger and lust and hatred that called out to me.
Yes, perhaps it was my cruel beginnings in the world that made me want to wreck my revenge upon something, someone—and over the years, I did just that. When my master first saw my strength, as well as my dangerous qualities, he transferred me to a friend's house in Hiroshima. My master was wise, as was his decision. He knew that revenge and hatred and greed flowed through my veins just like blood.
I was twenty by that point in time, and of all ironies, he sent me to a gay man's domain. Of course, my new master, Mizuhara was not openly gay, but after my first night in his quarters, we eventually became sexually involved. I say this openly, because I have nothing to hide. After all, to gain more power in the world, one must not be afraid of the new and different. After all, if one hides beneath the covers during the night one will miss the glorious moonscape.
Hanako of course was jealous, angry at me, and insisting that she be enough! Women can be so clingy, my god! So, I broke it off, and she went running to the Tofu salesman back in Tokyo to which she had been cheating on me for the past year. But it was of no matter—she was just a body I could use to my advantage, she had nothing I desired, or wanted, or yearned for. No, I was basically done with the whore, and I would not be surprised that if I went back to Tokyo in a few years I would find her right back where she had started.
How pitiful.
Mizuhara and I soon became fast friends in more ways than one. Mizhuara was my second lover, and he taught me many things as well. It is one thing to have sexual relationships with a man and another thing completely to have them with a woman. In my opinion, being "one" with a man is more…exciting. Dare I use that word? Why? Well, for one thing, society frowns upon such things. And so, the risk factor increases. What if a person was to open the screens right at that important moment and see all—what if word was to spread, what if reputations could be ruined? What if our screams and sighs in the night were heard through the rice-paper walls?
What if, what if, what if? The thought arouses me, even to this day.
Of course, I could always move on, create a new name for myself—but Mizuhara, oh, he would be forever stained with the scent of that old me, that person from a past life. I liked that thought quite a bit, actually. It was as though by sleeping with him I had him under my control. A commoner more potent than a lord—and such was the case beneath the sheets.
For a year our romance continued, until much to my dismay, Mizuhara took on a wife and was forced to spend his evenings with her. Occasionally, we managed brief physical contact—and I laugh, looking back on it now! There was the storage shed in the garden, and the bath, and how could I forget the pagoda out by the pond at two in the morning? We were both boys with a large appetite, and that, I believe is forgivable.
But did I love Mizuhara? Hah! Far from that. You must not understand my personality, but to me, a person is just something I can get my pleasure from and toss away. Like drinking a glass of ramune—yes, it is delicious and sweet, but gone eventually and now the glass gets washed, and put back on the shelf, waiting for more.
Yes, I am a glass that can never be filled.
I was twenty two when I left Mizuhara's house, greatly endowed with a large amount of money which Mizuhara had generously bestowed upon me as a parting gift. I miss that man, but then of course, I have no regrets. Currently, what I have my eyes set upon right now are four of the most glorious objects up to date. We will get to them in due time, hm?
After Mizuhara, I satisfied my urges with the occasional random person who I never could remember the names of, but I spent most of my time forming underground connections and learning. I learned everything I could get a hold on—from the art of bonsai, to make fabric, to the art of embroidery. I wanted to be the jack of all trades, and ensure that I would be a match for no one—that eventually the world would see me for what I truly had to offer. I would no longer be a commoner, but I would instead rise up among the warlords—and perhaps soar beyond them in my greatness. I would be a figure in history that none would forget.
By the time I was twenty-five, I had decided to go on a 'vacation' as I call it, and I joined a band of mountain thieves up in the Alps attacking innocent villagers. I killed my first person there, and I do not admit that I did not enjoy hearing their screams of mercy. I enjoy being in control, is this I crime? If I had to analyze myself, I would suggest that it was my lack of support from my non-existent family that made me this way. But then, of course, any idiot who hears my life tale would have the brain cells to figure this out.
You are startled that I laugh as I say these things, hm?
But, as it turned out, being thief wasn't for me. Yet, while up there, I heard about something that really was worth my time and effort. This was the Shinkon no Tama, of course. After all a jewel that can grant wishes, one would have to be crazy not to want such a thing! In any case, I wasn't stupid enough to go and get it—and knowing the outcome, I tricked my friend, Kansuke, into trying to steal it. When he came back with only one eye, I knew that it was the priestess that I needed to get around. But, first came the pain.
Yes, I know all too well the power of revenge. And for the first time in my life, I was subjected to it by another person.
Yet, pain is only truly excruciating if you think about it—so as the flames danced around me, and as I fell to the bottom of the cliff, paralyzed, I thought of the nights I had spent learning more and more knowledge, and being wrapped in whatever lover's arms. I thought of that pleasure and not this pain.
As you have already figured, I survived. I lived, though just barely. For days, I lay at the bottom of that damned cliff, unable to be move and being scorched by the sun and drowned by the rain. At one point, the rain became so heavy that I was washed into a nearby cave. Although the situation was somewhat better, I began to severely fear for my life. At night, I could hear the sounds of demons awaiting my death so that they could pounce on my corpse. For the first time ever, I knew that death was stepping closer and closer.
On the fifth day, I was awoken by the gentle sounds and saw the figure of a girl sitting near me. Her name, as it turned out, was Kikyou; the feared and beautiful priestess of the Shikon no Tama.
When I saw Kikyou, however, all my plans collapsed. The Shikon no Tama be damned. I am, if you have not figured it out, somewhat of a realist—and of course, it is very hard for me to believe in love at fist site. Yet such was the case when it came to her…Of course, I could not talk, or move—it was only my mind that still managed to function.
And Kikyou is what and is still, my greatest downfall. She is my one true weakness…
It was for her that I allowed the demons to consume my body; it was for her that I forsook my human life and turned into what I am today. It was that hope for a future that drove me on, continually, continually. It was as though all the actions of my life finally became clear—it was as though I had finally realized my purpose: to be there by her side. It was a natural high.
By the time I had been devoured by my love and the demons, I had discovered all too late that it there was another she loved. After all, I could hardly ask her of her personal affections! Realistically, there was no way that I could have known of her fondness and hence forth, it was no one's fault. But I did not let myself believe that. I was driven by my hatred and jealousy. I escaped, and returned to the city to gather information on this hanyou lord, Inuyasha. It was there I learned of his half brother, his jealousy, and the two swords of legend: I learned my plan of action, I learned the route. All that was left was the mode of transportation. And so of course, I had to put a stop to it, and put a stop to it I did.
I do not deny that what I did was cruel, and what I did was heartless. But to have ambition, to have goals such as mine requires no regret. I knew, I knew even as I stabbed her with the claws, that she would return to my side once again. We two were—are, bound through time, the past, happiness and sorrow. There is nothing I would not do for her, for us, and that dream, that ambition.
I am not a nice man though. Let me make this perfectly clear. I will kill a person, yes, even without reason. I will lick their blood and mock their family. I am cruel.
But I do possess pity.
The jewel was buried with Kikyou, where, it was expected her spirit would continue to protect it. I waited a year and then returned to the shrine and dig up her grave only to find the jewel strangely absent. I learned from the village locals that one night a great light emerged from the shrine, for perhaps, a period of thirty seconds. It then died abruptly, and a cry of a baby seemed to whisper on the wind.
I had allowed too much time to slip through my fingers; I had become too preoccupied in attaining power.
I waited and listened for news, taking anything I could find. It was torture, I tell you. Torture, damn it. For a period of fifteen years I was tortured by the thought that Kikyou and I were truly separated, that my plan had failed, that all the death, all the power struggles, all the lies, all the truths, all the bargains and treaties had they all been in vain. I whispered to myself night after night soothing my soul, and restraing myself for not going out and killing Inuyasha right then and there.
Even sex was no comfort.
It was not until three years ago that I narrowed the selection of possibilities down to only one factor: reincarnation. Such events are typical, especially if unfinished matters die with the person, especially a priestess.
I realized finally who was the girl, who is of course—
(Oh, excuse me for a moment. One of my servants have arrived.
Ah, I see Mistuki is calling me over. We will have to continue this another time, although if you are truly interested, feel free to read my diary which after my death will eventually be found and made public after it is published. Yet, my body waits for no one, and Mistuki is the finest of my collection here—although none can compare to the gentle rolling mounds of flesh and cool body of Kikyou, but then of course, the girls would get jealous if they knew I favored her among all the rest.
As it is, I am growing bored with this conversation and wish to retire for the night in private. And so, if you will excuse me…
By the way, would you like a girl sent up to you as well? Such pretty flowers do we have here. All so well tended.
Feel free to play gardener.)
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AN: A rather short chapter, ne? Yes, I know, and I really could have continued the thing on, but I can't give away all my secrets, can I? Also, sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter out. My beta-reader and I had issues about the most recent version of this, and as it is, I have been extremely busy with school. Hopefully, it will be somewhat better now that college applications are in…though, somehow, I have a feeling that it wont. ^.^
Bento-ya: benta shop/restaurant
Read, review, say "sekai ga owaru!"
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Happy Holidays Everyone!
-cheers-