Ascension of the Spirit
By Banana Rum: Kalliel
I do not own Inuyasha etc. Original story and characters are, however. Thank you horse-crazy-gurl (my leading lady!), moggy201484271612345 (did I get the numbers right?) fenikkusu kami, purplepeopleeater, Umi Fox, and kikyo-the-walnut for the reviews! I wasn't expecting very many people to read this, but there you all are! I bow before you. Notes: I lost the outline for this chapter twice, and it was so dang LONG to write, so enjoy. No, I have not read over it myself, and no, I do not need any reminders of the long hours of writing pathetic nonsense during history and on the couch. Also, by chapter seven or so, I decided to change the rating from PG-13 to R, so if you're not allowed to read lime-ish content, I'm sorry!
Beta read by Zora/Kikyo-the-Walnut
Chapter 3: Ritual Living
Taiji Village, Japan
Sengoku Jidai"Sango-chan!" a light voice sounded, calling across the dusty village like a bird's song in summer. Two small children tousled nearby, and the call went unheeded.
"Sango! Gimmie that back!"
"Mujina-chan! Sango-chan!" the woman sang, more urgent this time. She balanced a bowl of millet waiting to be steamed on her bulging belly-a sure sign that the child inside her would soon grace her every waking moment.
As the play continued, ignoring Kaiyou's calls, the woman became irritated, shifting from side to side restlessly for a moment before storming down to the growing dust storm that was her two little ones, whether born from her or otherwise. "Sango, Mujina! There will be hell to pay if you don't come home right now and make your chichi supper!" she grabbed the girls, setting down the pot of food to free her other hand, and slapped them smartly across each dirty cheek. As tears slowly filled their eyes, Kaiyou spoke in a more gentle tone. "Now go to Riie-san's well and wash up quickly before you cook. Your father will be home shortly.
The duo nodded, unconsciously brushing back limp strands of toil-dampened hair. As they scampered off to the village's midwife, doctor, and occasional babysitter's refuge at the near edge of the village, Kaiyou watched with a slipping sense of longing.
My Sango...She wandered back to their home, somewhat more refined than the ones that clustered near it like tributaries in tandem with a larger river. I was chosen to be the wife of the late headman's son solely because of my beauty. All these nine moon-turns since her betrothal in her sixteenth year she'd known that. Many a time had see been gazed upon with lust by the scrawny status-less mercenaries that came to call on their prosperous village from time to time. When she was pregnant with Sango, she often lingered by Riie's hut after purchasing her remedial herbs, smiling at her own pale reflection. If she was pleasant to look at, then she didn't need talent as a taijiya to prosper in the village, so she had renounced demon slaying when her first child was born.
Her stomach gave a warning lurch, signaling that soon this new child would soon breathe-tomorrow, or the next day. Pushing back the rickety shouji, she slipped off her carefully woven sandals and stepper right into her tabi, drifting down toward the fire pit in the center of the cedar fortress she would hide herself in for eternity.
"Haha, we've returned." Sango's high, childish tongue announced in a singsong voice, supressing the giggles that bounced inside of her. Mujina had stolen the drinking ladle from the well, and Sango had tried to recover it, only managing to throw it down into the chilly depths of the water, never to be seen again.
Mujina wordlessly stalked into the main room, temporarily furious with Sango, and sat down and sat down on the flat, gray zabuton, mechanically producing limp vegetables from her sack and setting them in the earthenware pot to boil. She watched the dirt-tined daikon float serenely on the surface before submerging and sifting downwards until its soft, dull thud on the base of the bowl gently sounded.
Sango soon followed suit, only to be buoyed up again when she realized it was her turn to find dry wood to light the flames under their dinner.
They had traded off these evening tasks for as long as she could correctly remember. How they had joined she would never guess; she the high standing taijiya and Mujina, self-proclaimed miko and worker of dark sorcery. Of course she had asked, poked, and prodded to get more out of her wile, tricksome compatriot, but to no avail.
Finally, they had fully prepared the last meal of the day and Sango's father had returned home. Each member of the family say in resolute silence, save for Mujina. Now it was her turn for restlessness. Following the near-total consumption of her dinner- aside from the few kernels of hard millet mixed in with the white rice, creating a hodgepodge of brown and ivory designs-Mujina had squirmed unconfortably in her cramped seated position under the stern eyes of Sango's father. Not being able to think of anything else to do, she moved to pour more of the weak, tasteless tea so hastily prepared by herself. In doing to, she managed to knock over her own bowl, spilling its contents onto the scrubbed floors. She yelped as the steaming millet hit her hand and succeeded in dropping the tea as well, shattering the ages-old pitcher and dampening her yukata, seeping it with scalding lotus-scented water. Chaos ensued shortly afterward, Kaiyou doubling over in contractions and Matsu pushing Mujina out of the way of more serious injury. Sango hurried to fetch a dry yukata as Mujina's startled screams turned to low moans of discomfort.
It was no surprise that when it came time for slumber, no one was in the highest of spirits.
Mujina decided it would be best if she left for home, though the burns on her thighs made her wince as she limped out into the darkness.
"Chichi, why don't we ever let Mujina stay the night with us? Her home must be far away from here if we never see her parents." Sango objected as Matsu slammed the shouji with such ferocity they trembled in their frames.
"That...girl is an outsider. She should never of been let into the house of the village headman. She'll be the ruin of all of us, I can feel it." Matsu whispered so only Sango could hear. He knew Kaiyou hoped to make this pauper her own to care and find a mate for.
"But-"
"Go to bed!" Matsu whirled around, accidentally knocking Sango to the ground as he turned.
Sango looked up at him with a stinging glare of fury and betrayal. "Only haha is allowed to hit me." She mouthed, unable to make sound come from her throat as tears overfilled her almond eyes and riddled her sight so that her father, now attempting to atone for the accident by hugging her gently, rippled with a fish-eyed distortion.
She pulled away from his strong arms and rushed to the back room. Pulling out her futon, she brought out a silk cloth and tried to sleep.
Only moments later, "Sango-chan." Kaiyou nudged Sango's shoulder as she spoke, so softly that at first Sango wasn't completely aware that it wasn't a dream.
"Uh?" the little girl blinked the haziness from her vision.
"Your chichi loves you very much, you know that."
"Yes." Sango snuggled closer to her mother, pushing her face into Kaiyou's thick locks, intaking the heavy aroma of the kitchen and amaranth. Kaiyou put her arms around Sango, rocking her back and forth. She wasn't surprised when the muffled hiccups and slight dampness on the shoulder of her yukata permeated the silence.
"Just cry, Sango." Cry now because you won't be able to when you grow older, I know." Kaiyou soothed her only living daughter. There had been another for the briefest instant a year after Sango, but she was gone now, carried away by the rift of death. She could only hope her next child would live, at any cost.
"Haha, do the babies come out easily?"
Kaiyou stifled a chuckle. "Sango-chan, if you want to breed easy, marry a dog."
Sango stared. "What...?"
"You forget what I have told you. Dogs give birth easily, without much toil. Therefore, you must pray to the kami for a quick, clean delivery." Kaiyou chided. "Now sleep. I'll see you in the morning."
"Haha..." Sango murmured, eyes opening in paper-thin slits, the shadowed light in the corner of the sleeping room betraying no movement. Crawling out of her bed-things and placing them in her own dusty corner, she soon realized that she was alone. She could hear hushed voices outside, and the bulky silhouettes of her father and old Riie. A sudden jolt of fear shot up her spine, replacing her morning drowsiness with cold, unbidden dread. Haha would probably strike her for dropping the ladle into Riie's well--she was sure the aging hag had undoubtedly missed its presence and had come to inform her chichi-ue. Gulping down the sticky lump that had gradually thickened to a mochi-like consistency, she opened the shouji and peeked outside.
Riie was holding a baby in her arms, which was probably to be blessed by her father, the village headman, for one of the villagers. "Chichi-ue, where's haha?" It wouldn't do any good to hide. That would only serve to strengthen the burning ache on her cheeks when Kaiyou found her.
Even as the syllables rolled off her tongue, she could feel the silence's clear pool of grace marred by her rough, alien language. From the look on papa's face, there was another thing she also knew. Somehow in the grand scheme of this ritual lifestyle, a gear had gone terribly awry, smashing the complicated mechanics as easily as a samurai cuts through bamboo.
Matsu heaved his listless husk of a body up the steps, gently lifting Sango into his arms and cradling her like a newborn son, unlike the daughter she was, just as Riie had seven years ago. Sango lay there for a moment, genuinely mystified. Her confusion only began to span more leagues as raindrops sprinkled only on her, dancing gleefully on her pallid features. "Chichi-ue?" He was crying. All her life she had never seen anyone beside herself or the other village children shed tears. "Haha said..." Then, thinking better of reprimanding her father at such a time retracted her statement.
"What...did haha say?" he drew a shuddering breath, steeling himself to regain his composure before the men came to meet him for work
"Haha said you should cry only as a child, because you won't be able to when you become an adult."
So that was her mantra. Those pained looks, Kaiyou. And those maple eyes gazing off into turbulent darkness. That is more trying than crying, Kaiyou. My Kaiyou, my darling.
"We are all children, Sango. And we will remain so—'Kodomo' of this wisened world, haha has gone elsewhere, so she can rid herself of that naivete and gain peace."
"Can I go with her?" Sango's stomach gave a sickening lurch, though still unsure of the meaning.
"No." Matsu's reply came startlingly quickly. "Not for a very long time."
"She's dead, girl. I helped birth you AND your sister as well as this child here. If you don't hurry up and name him, Matsu-sama, he too will gain 'enlightenment'." Riie scoffed a little. Damn Buddhists. They respect the kami, yet rely on this 'Buddha' to deliver them to salvation.
Matsu gave Riie a glare of tired annoyance, then whispered, "Kohaku."
"Sango, your little brother is 'Kohaku'. Now hurry and dress. You must help me prepare the burial."
Sango shook her head slowly. An uprising...something tearing loose from her, traveling up her throat, clawing hits way out...
"Do as I say, Sango. NOW." Riie's voice held a sharpness to it that made Sango cringe as the old woman moved closer, balancing Kohaku on her knee to free a hand for grabbing Sango.
"No!" Sango screamed, burying her face in her father's haori, high-pitched bawling drawing neighbors even from the farthest side of town.
Kaiyou. Taijiya, wife, haha. I'll always be here for you, Sango.
Niwatori Village, Japan
Sengoku Jidai
It was morning in Niwatori village. The rising sun cast a glancing sheen across the unmoving mirror of the bay, so that the miko had to avert her eyes in order to avoid being blinded. Sighing, she continued her daily traverse down to the village brothels and then back up again to the more fortunate denziens of her hometown. For so early on her journey, it was apparent that the people had gradually been incurably spoilt the further they fled into the countryside, away from war-infested areas. One woman claimed her mirror had been possessed, marring her reflection with a peculiar white rash, another complained of kitsune coming to raid her rice paddies and stealing valuable crops. Both had revealed themselves as red herrings to Midoriko. The first woman had the first sign of a dishonorable disease the doctors in Kyoto called 'leprosy', the latter guiding Midoriko to a sea of weeds, in hopes that she could possibly turn the grasses to rice by magic.
Midoriko sighed again. Such was the life of a priestess. Sometimes she wondered if she should leave the seaside hamlet and seek an area more in need of her dwindling practice. 'Just another day,' she always told herself, 'one more chance'. Her days and chances soon gave way to months and moon cycles, and she still remained in the rooster's cage, tending to the paltry accusations of youki at work.
Then, she really did feel the faintest hint of a demon aura. No, it couldn't be. Perhaps she was just reacting to the blatantly evident lack of it. Ah, I'm getting old too soon. But no...it was there. Intermingling with all the human ki, so faintly pulsating...but it was there.
With a little more urgency than was seemly, she hurried down the path and into the unpaved, wilder streets of the brothels. A youkai had come to raze this village! She knew she should be grieving for the loss of tranquility, but her suns and moons of waiting were finally paying up. However, when she arrived at the edge of the high streets that broke off to end at a trickle of bricks and mortar gone askew, the only emotion in her heart was dismay.
There was a youkai, sure enough. Or at least there had been. Three of the village men lay sprawled across the stain of blood, dead. In the center were two more bodies. One of them a young girl, who could be no more than sixteen, whose wedding she had attended. Kariko, that was her name. The other was the foul creature emanating the globe-light of youki, loosely swirling and evaporating. So it had all been rashly taken care of, without any consent to fetch her. She had been here, all these many years, and no one could possibly think to call the miko for assistance. Burning resentment flickered through her, warming her frozen limbs, chilled by the early morning rounds, until she gave up all hope of maintaining a professional façade and scrambled haphazardly until she reached the site of massacre. It was only then that she realized that it had not been totally and wholly 'taken care of'.
She recoiled a few steps at the stench of the coppery blood, and at the husky, rasping growls as the youkai shifted its head slightly so that one hostile amber eye fixed on her own nigh-sky ones. He was human in appearance, only distinguishable by silvery strands of grime-encrusted hair falling in a lengthy cascade down his back, two canine ears limply situated on top of his head, and deadly claws and fangs that Midoriko could not overlook.
Fear froze her reactions for a moment, each movement she made to finish him off felt like pushing through churning ocean currents. Drawing her katana, the lacquered bamboo of her armor glistened with morning dew as the sunlight peeked over the cliffs and shed a hazy brightness on the brothels.
"Youkai, do you know who I am?" she asked in challenge, not really expecting a coherent answer. Who would she? Demons couldn't be sentient beings. They were bakemono, monsters.
The youkai made an attempt to rise, biting his lip against crying out as the spears in this back and legs shifted position, but he managed to maintain a position halfway between a slouch and a crawl.
Midoriko dropped into a guard position. The youkai was determined all right, but in such an injured state, the miko also knew that it stood no chance. Advancing, she circled around her opponent before executing a well-placed lunge. The demon made no move to dodge. Instead, he did the exact opposite. No books or masters could have ever taught him THAT. Midoriko's mind raced as her pristine fighting arts misfired against his own wild, feral instincts. Who in all the hells would GRAB the damned blade? Midoriko silently argued with herself, not bothering to chastise herself as well for language.
Blood was trickling down from his hand and onto hers, staining her gloves a hue of crimson darkness. Looking up, forsaking the task of ridding him of his accursed grip on the blade, she found herself face to face with a malevolent visage of truancy of thought. The subconscious, glazed-over stare of half-formed challenge washed over her, dissolving the paltry defenses around her.
Taking advantage of the momentary weakness, the youkai forced her backward with the hilt of her sword, stabbing at her ribs and knocking the wind out of her. The miko counteracted with her own ki, throwing a ball of energy back out at him. This will be harder than I thought.
The youkai stuck his claws into his injured shoulder, tearing the wound further. Midoriko thought that for sure he had gone mad with the pain, but soon retracted those thoughts when he swung at the open air, blood flying in crescent moon scythes straight at her, even as his body fell in an exhausted heap. The hamafuda she kept tucked in the sleeve of her haori easily obstructed the projectiles, and she was soon by the demon's side, picking up her sword as she ran, no losing any momentum...
The sudden burst of cold air and the harsh sound of shouji slamming shut jolted Midoriko awake. Hurriedly she put on a silken shawl and reopened the aforementioned paper screen. Seeing the figure, crouched just outside her door, unmoving, gave her welcoming reassurance. So the past seven years hadn't been just the strange dream of an overly-creative mind.
The very same thing that she had fought at the tender age of fifteen was seated outside her door, recognizing her being there behind him by ignoring him altogether. She still couldn't exactly say what possessed her to take a demon into her care, rescuing him from almost certain death and living with him, trusting him not to slit her throat while she slumbered.
"Hey." Their infrequent conversations were simple and to the point, and all polite suffixes either scorned or totally ignored. "What do you think you're doing out here with only hakama. At least put on your top."
"Keh."
Midoriko sighed. Since the time of their first meeting, the courage to leave Niwatori Village and wander elsewhere had been bestowed upon her, and she had gained both skill and fame. Now just the utterance of her name was a sacred chant. Whenever she traveled, he followed. Never to aid her, though. Not at all. Merely hunting for his own, killing off the occasional lesser youkai in a duel. Often too was the fight with another demon of actual skill. Those battles were either lost or won at a much greater price. Such had happened a few days before, and Midoriko had persuaded him that it would be best for his health if they rested back in Niwatori Village for a while. She had also proved that such could be a very painful thing, subduing him with a sharp rap to the side of the temple with the sheathe of her sword whenever necessary.
"Let me change your bandages then, come on." The miko bargained in an exasperated tone.
"They're fine as it is. Give me my clothes." He began to undo the old bandages, unraveling then from around his body.
Huffily, Midoriko went back inside to fetch the garments, but not before seeing for herself that his wounds were acceptably healed. Most were, now just reminders of the past. Long white scars that snaked around his thin, muscular arms and torso. One or two could have done with more salve and another day of rest, livid patches of raw skin on his lower back and shoulders, so Midoriko contented herself with the fact that she wasn't completely wrong as she haphazardly threw clothing outside in to the crisp autumn morning and continued to dress herself as well.
A few minutes later, she called testily out for him to come inside for the morning meal.
"I can hunt my own food," the youkai replied hotly.
Slamming open the shouji once more, Midoriko kicked him smartly at the back of the skull, knocking him off the veranda and onto the hard, icy ground. "You...hanyou!" she seethed, at a loss for words. "Ungrateful..."
The half-demon, as Midoriko observed, grimaced as his hands smacked onto the permafrost and his coarsely woven clothing brushed against the raw, unprotected sections of flesh. Someone should tell'er that if she really didn't want me to get hurt, she shouldn't do things like that.
"What makes you think that some dangerous youkai isn't going to pick up you for its breakfast instead of the other way around?" Midoriko reprimanded.
"And what business is it of yours?" he shouted back, jumping up onto the veranda once more.
Their neighbors just smiled tiredly, shaking their heads. She was the legendary priestess, Midoriko. A little raucous noise at dawn was worth the protection she offered.
"Stay you there then! STARVE for all I care! Freeze! Just wait and see! A few hours and you'll be begging to be let in, crying 'Midoriko-SAMA! Forgive me!' I can hear it now!" she retorted in an overly dramatic voice, complete with drastic hand motions.
The hanyou let out a doubtful noise, halfway between a growl and a chuckle, and leapt up onto the roof of the shrine.
Midoriko slammed the shouji with such tenacity that it came off the heavily grooved track, hanging askew and welcoming the frigidity into her home. She threw her hands up into the hair, emitting a feral sound.
"I didn't know priestesses growled like dog youkai too." A faint taunt dropped from the roof.
"Shut up." Midoriko plopped down near the fire pit and poured half of the jook into her own earthen bowl. The porridge-like substance was the only hint of her decidedly Chinese upbringing, across the sea.
"I really am going to let him freeze this time." She said aloud, expression darkening. Only a moment later, she relaxed her death-grip on the hashi and drew a deep, shuddering breath to calm her. It's much to early in the morning to be doing this kind of strenuous activity. Midoriko chided herself. Scooping the remaining jook into his bowl, she went back outside. To her surprise, the hanyou had retired from moping on the roof and was inspecting the derailed door as Midoriko kicked it open defiantly, smashing her little annoyance under it.
He only looked up at her disdainfully, as she broke into a fit of uncontrollable laughter. "And what exactly are you laughing at?" he asked skeptically.
Midoriko continued her hysterical giggling, choking out between bouts of laughter, "Sorry, I don't know! It's just so funny!", or something to that affect. He was going to help me fix the shouji! A strange tingling sense reverberated through her, warming her numb fingers and toes.
After the youkai had unearthed himself and grudgingly snatched breakfast from her, she asked, "Can I name you?" The same age-old question every year on the anniversary of the day they met, so to speak.
"Hell no." The same answer. The first year, she had asked why not, and he replied hotly that there was no point in having a name and it would only serve to expand her already inflated ego into thinking she was his master. He shoved the shouji back into its rightful position.
Midoriko sighed. Maybe next year. Smiling, she kissed him gently on the tip of his nose. "Thank you."
"Wha...?" Mind drawing a blank as his heart sent a red flush into his cheeks, he blinked his eyes a few times. Naw, that didn't just happen. She's looking at me in an evil way now, she can't have just...or did she?
"Oh yes. Since we're here in Niwatori today, we will attend Kariko-san's memorial service. And no, you can't skip it. You owe her family that much."
The demon gave her a baffled glance. That's twice in a row now she's done that. "Why? Who's this Kariko person?"
Taiji Village, Japan
Sengoku Jidai"Oi, Matsu-san!" an old peddler rapped on the storm shutters of the taijiya headman's home.
Timidly, a girl peeked out, shading all but her hands and feet from view.
"Who's zis?" a snappish female voice grunted, pushing back the shutters and stepping out to greet the man, who was taken aback by her rudeness.
"I—uh...Tokido Setsuo, friend of Matsu of the Taiji Village. Are you...Sango?"
"That's her over there." The other girl motioned behind her and jumped off the veranda, strolling puposefully out of the village.
"Mujina, wait! I didn't mean it! Oh, for the love of sanity, get back here, you idiot!" Sango called after her. Then she addressed the man, "You wish to speak to my chichi-ue?"
"Indeed. Last time I came by, you were just a wee child, and dear Kohaku was in your mother's womb! I bet he's grown up to be a strong young lad, just like your father! How is your mother, Kaiyou-san?"
Sango quickly turned away to hide the hot tears that reflexively sprang into her eyes, though at twelve, it had been a good five years since her death. "She...is well." Sango lied, brushing back loose strand s of dark-colored rice husk hair.
"Is your father away? Slaying?"
"Yes..." Her stomach's instinctful churning at all hid prying questions worsened.
"Why didn't you accompany him?"
"I have not been well of late, and am just now able to go about the household duties..."
"And the rash young girl with you?"
"She is my most trusted companion, Mujina, whose lore of herbs and poultices are unmatched in this region." Her throat tightened as she told yet another glaring falsehood. It was true, she had not been well and Mujina HAD cared for her, but only because it was Mujina's own curse that had accidentally struck Sango as opposed to its intended target in the first place.
Later that night, Matsu and the strange old man, Setsuo, talked long after the sun's final rays bid farewell and the last candle had ages since burnt out.
"Memorial ceremony? Yakota Kariko and her husband, as well as her father?" Matsu's bewildered exclamation told Setsuo that he had not head of the Yakota massacre so many years ago in Niwatori village, far south of here.
"Yes, yes. Of course we will attend. Why did word never reach us of their deaths? We were family! They were, Kariko was, Kaiyou's sister..."
From her futon, Sango could only hear her father's confused replies, the low, slurred voice of their visitor drifting off in thanks to the effects of the sake she and her brother Kohaku had served.
Was it that they were not wanted at the ceremony since Kaiyou had perished? With that to sleep on, Sango willed her body to relax and rest while it could, next to Kohaku, who had been through the rigorous training regiment for youths in the Taiji Village, and slept easy.
-end chapter three
Author's Ramblings:
Hey, horse-crazy-gurl! Well, for my first long romance story, I think it's pretty good, since for sure Inuyasha and Sango weren't in love at the beginning since they didn't know each other, we have to build up their romantic appeal towards each other...
Hm...what else...I tried to draw off of my limited fencing (yes, fencing, not kendo or something) for Midoriko...This chapter was pretty much unraveling plot knots and character development. Alas, so is chapter four.
As some of you know (the select few, believe me) this chapter made my go crazy and I started adding Lewis and Clark into it, scaring Sango by popping out from behind hydrangea bushes and throwing doughnuts at Midoriko, but I finally finished writing and typing and my wonderful test subject, Zora, pointed out many many sections that made no sense whatsoever. Thank you Zora!
See y'all then! I hope I have it and chapter five up by next Saturday!
Kalliel
