Hello. I edited the prologue a bit so please read it first to avoid confusion. It's not much, but a bit more detail was added.
Many thanks to all those who reviewed, it really inspired me. Special thanks to Leunra, who pointed out the confusion about how Kagome became Sesshoumaru's mate.
Well, on with the story…
Part I: Season of Loss
Summer
Flickering lights
Of fireflies
Forebode their short lives.
Meimetsu no
Izure kanashiki
Hotaru kana
- Kawabata Bousha
Chapter I
7 months ago
He rarely dreamed; that was something Sesshoumaru was certain of. It was this certainty that haunted his mind when he found himself rolling in the inky darkness of his dream, a strange tone that lay so heavily that even his eyes and ears could see and hear nothing.
He found it curious that he was dreaming now after many years. It was 50 years ago when he last dreamt. He dreamt of scarlet that day; the day his younger half-brother was sent out with his Haven to return the two imperial treasures. He remembered the lurid quality of the color, its mottled shade, the sound of cawing ravens, and the metallic stench of blood.
Yet his dream now after so long was vastly different. It was cold in its stillness. It was silent, even and dark, not like before. Before the dream came as a premonition as vivid as the reality it portrayed. Now it came from nothing, and in its nothingness bloomed a myriad of fears.
She had appeared in front of him, a jarring picture in the darkness. Her image burned in his mind, the way she looked amidst the darkness that seemed to want to swallow her whole. She sat there, legs folded and weighted down by her upright body, fragile, her form encased with layers upon layers of silken robes that seemed to weigh her down and trap her.
The weight of blood,' he thought, noting the blood red of the last robe that seemed to choke and meld with the dark. He thought it familiar, the way it seemed to blaze brightly against her alabaster skin like a flame in the snow. He then realized that it was the same hue that shone beneath the silver of his half-brother's hair. It was the same mottled scarlet in his dreams that had forewarned the tragedy of his kin.
Her back met him before her face turned ever so slightly to reach his startled eyes. The cold chill of fear raced through his spine, something he loathed to admit even to himself. But it could not be helped. The tragedy had struck the empire bringing wave upon wave of the sick, the dead and the dying, and here she was robed in this self-same color with her eyes radiating grief and death. It was so unlike her. Lady Kagome's blue-gray orbs had always shined with a passion, a passion for her duty and for the people in the land. At that moment, he wanted to rush to her, to feel the delicate bones underneath his hands as demanded answers. He wanted to feel the cool silk beneath his fingertips as she replied in the same guarded tone, her voice lilting precisely against his ears. He wanted because he wished to be comforted as well, knowing she was the same as ever and this dream-vision was a lie.
But like the nightmare it was, he could not move. An invisible and immovable force rooted him on the spot. No matter how much he strained, he could only simply stand and look into her dead eyes. Time swiftly flew, and he did not know for how long or cared. They were seemingly forever locked into each other's gaze when he suddenly felt the cold weight of a sword in his hand. His gaze slid down, filled with morbid curiosity. Numbly, he saw an elegant hand, slightly rough. It had delicately grasped the worn hilt of the sword; the leather beaten and unraveling. A lean wrist, smooth and unmarked, greeted him. It was not his own.
'InuYasha? Tessaiga?'
The sword flared to life. He dazedly noted how blood had spluttered in an orgy. The scent of irises against the rain, wind and other elusive things enveloped him against the thick coppery twang.
The blade was gone. His robes were fast becoming warm with the sticky liquid as his arms rose to encompass a form that lay on him. Dimming blue-gray orbs mocked him. His blood boiled. He wanted to let go of his vaunted control, to transform into his beast and destroy everything, but his dream-form refused. It had simply lain, forcing him to hold the delicate form in a limp, heavy embrace. It had done nothing as he watched those eyes melted into a dull dead-brown hue, their shape narrowing, and the face transforming, lengthening, into another familiar form. It had stayed, unmoving, until everything had faded into dust and he had paled into the darkness of his awakening.
Uncertainty.
The word echoed at the confines of Sesshomaru's mind as he went about the monotonous task of dealing with the various political machinations that plagued the empire. It was the same thing over and over again, the empty flatteries, the barely concealed hunger, and the petty rivalries poorly hidden in a veneer of politeness, all of them gracing the thick white sheets. He hated these. The empty words have never appealed to him; and after centuries, they have all become worn and tired. Even the swift strokes, the graceful curves, and the elegant lines of black ink against dazzling white failed to detract him from its depravities. But he knew that as the Emperor's chief minister and as the second most powerful man in the land, it was his duty to know all the comings and goings, to dance this same dance and find all that wish harm.
Regret.
Normally, he would have completed his work efficiently, with a single-mindedness that would have put all to shame. But not today. He couldn't. The dream continued to haunt him. It mocked him with its familiarity, jeered at him in its contradictions. He could still remember the day he had woken up from the unsettling dream with the cries of the messenger ringing throughout the hallways. He had rushed to the sound, the horrible news that gripped the palace. InuYasha and Kikyo dead. The Yasakani-no-magatama with the Shikon-no-tama lost.
That permeated everywhere…
In the privacy of his mind, he blamed himself. He should have known that something was amiss when he began those dreams. He should have recalled InuYasha and Kikyo, or perhaps sent a company of knights to escort the pair. Instead, he did nothing. It was only through the presence of the monk, Ryuen, that the Yata-no-kagami was saved.
Now, dreams have been plaguing him once again. But unlike before, uncertainty filled him. No real signs have danger have appeared, only shadows. There is little he can do. His hands tied, for he himself is embroiled in all of this ambiguity.
There have been murmurs of an upcoming rebellion. The emperor's power is said to be at an end. Two royal lines who were descended from the gods are about to be joined. The religious say that it is fate's wrath against the line of Amaterasu, for failing to fulfill its duty to bring order to chaos. Others say that it was the line's zealousness, the world lives in the balance between yin and yang, to tip the scales means destruction. The cynical, on the other hand, say it is nothing more than a power struggle. The romantic say none.
But whatever it is, he knew he was to blame. He was the knight who had walked the past the row of maidens in the shrine of Kamo three years ago and upset the millenniums old balance.
It was something so simple.
The smell of irises against the rain, wind and other elusive things.
The scent beckoned him. It had blazed, past the heavy weight of the incense. Had reached out past his dulled senses as they roiled and hissed underneath his skin, the ofudas containing them. He had stopped, eyes irresistibly drawn towards its source. A hooded figure draped in white met him. To the uninitiated, to the ignorant, the form was like the rest that lined the hall. But to him, the girl was different from the rest as night was to day.
He took a step forward, reached out to that tantalizing scent. His hand reached out, touching the smooth white silk. He was dimly aware of the whispers that dimmed then roared, cresting like a wave.
Reverently.
The pads of his fingers felt the shadowed contours of her face. The curve of her temples, the arch of her high cheekbone, the plump lips, and the delicate chin was all hidden by the thick veil.
Gently.
He ran his hands past the slender column of her neck, the slim shoulders towards the hands, all covered by heavy silk. He grasped her fingers, bringing the delicate digits in the cusp of his hands. He ran his claws over the fragile appendages, marveling at how it laid engulf underneath his palms.
He tugged her forward. Led her towards the dais where the Emperor observed. He could feel the shock and the slow giddiness of celebration engulf the lords. He had found a Haven, his companion as the elite knight to the emperor, his soul-bonded mate that would inevitably bear him an heir. For years, his inability to find a Haven had been a cause of concern. He was the last of his line that held the reigns of the government through the hereditary claim to the position of minister of the left. He was the right hand man of the Emperor, the second most powerful man in the land. It was his presence that kept youkai lords in line, accepting of the power a human held over all of them. Should he die without an heir, there would be no youkai worthy to take his place. The land would most likely erupt in civil war, youkai against human, youkai against youkai, human against human, all under the different banners of belief.
A pleased curve and a merry twinkle from the man he served greeted him. He had made the usual motions of obeisance. Besides him, she mirrored his movements. It was a sign that showed her rank was equal to his. It was a warning against the premature celebration. Unfortunately, it was unseen in their relief.
He had been an overconfident fool. He had forgotten the past tragedy that had also begun in the ceremony. He believed that he could not be touched, marching in his own banner. When he had given up finding a mate, he plotted how to simply gain an heir. Now when he found a Haven, he simply took it in stride. He took her hand. He led her to sit besides him and had never let her go. Her hand had lain on his lap as he examined it. At that time, its fragility had been impressed in him. It had made him wonder how she could protect him in his duties when it seemed she needed protection. He arrogantly decided that he could protect her. When it was time of the unveiling, he stood in front of her with the confidence of the royal inu-youkai clan.
He remembered watching as the attendants slowly divested her of the outer robes. The dull white colors of death gave way to the brilliant scarlet of life. Her head was bowed down as he slowly tugged the veil. As all watched, he had set the first roll of the dice. The multitude of gauzy silk that layers her tumbled and fell. What greeted his eyes was the inky black hair of a human, and sapphire colored eyes. Those otherworldly orbs damned all. It was the color that defined the royal line of Higurashi. He had taken as his Haven the only child of the Minister of Right, Lord of the Eastern Lands. He had taken Kagome Higurashi as his mate, bringing together the two divine lines that have to remain separate, for they balanced and calmed the continued animosity between humans and youkai.
With a scowl, he slammed his palms flat on the table. The teacup rattled. The ink sloshed against the dark well. The sheets tottered and fell like the foamy waves crashing upon the sand.
He watched the floor painted in white and black scrolls, his gaze touching the deluge to rest on a one. It was the same as the rest of the formal correspondences, done in thick michinokuni paper. But it was the handwriting that set it apart. The delicate sweeping strokes. The fine hand like an ethereal mist.
He knew it well. He had received letters from this hand for 3 years. Every month, it reached him with exceeding regularity. Tradition demanded it. A Haven should write to her knight in the years of her final training, away from him. So Lady Higurashi did. And in her usual form, she sent her letters in the white sheets made from the spindle tree instead of the thinner and finer colored papers that was used for personal correspondences between friends, lovers, mates and intendeds.
His claws raked through his hair, the letter reminding him of the mood within the capital. It was rife with tension. Lady Higurashi was at the last leg of her training.
He shut his eyes tightly, remembering something important.
"Jaken," he growled, sending his retainer stumbling in haste to meet his summons.
"See to the documents," he snapped, "I want them in order."
He rose haughtily, ignoring his servant's acquiescence. He stepped out of the room, sliding the door firmly to a close. It paid to be careful. Spies and loose-tongued courtiers abounded. To show no caution meant death in the razor sharp world of politics.
He passed through the great stone and wooden hallways of the palace, when he reached a fairly secluded spot in one of the gardens. He found himself looking at a pair of calm blue eyes that belonged to a man who sat languidly in a stone bench underneath the shade of a great tree lined with yellow flowers. A table, containing delicate cups and bowls, lightly condensed with cool water faced the man and another stone bench.
"Lord Shigeru," he greeted.
The man smiled, eyes crinkling in mirth.
"Lord Sesshoumaru," the seated man replied as he motioned at the empty seat. "Join me for a reprieve." A slight shake of a graying head. "The heat is so stifling."
He nodded. It was all an act to set any spies at ease, thinking it was all a coincidence, the meeting of the two royal lords. He could not help but approve. The Minister of the Right had chosen well. The place would hide them from prying eyes, yet was open enough that none would be able to surprise them with their presence.
Sesshoumaru stepped forward. A Faint sting of power washed over him. Sounds became muted. The colors sharper. The air hung in baited breath. He felt as if the two of them where cut of from the rest of the world.
"Forgive me," Lord Higurashi spoke, his once light-hearted demeanor weighted by so many cares. "I wanted to have straightforward conversation…but this was very sensitive."
Sesshoumaru's face remained unreadable. He calmly took a sip from his icy drink, the fruity taste cooling his parched throat.
"Let us be frank," the man continued. "We cannot delay this any longer." A sigh, then a fond smile, "I admire the shadow dance that both of you have been pulling for all these years, but my daughter is to turn 18 years of age by the coming year."
He felt a frown mar his brow as he listened to his fellow minister's words. He knew this already. Had spent months agonizing over this upcoming event that would throw everything in chaos. The shadow dance that he and Lord Shigeru's heir have been doing had only been a temporary measure. They have been following the traditions between a knight and his Haven, yet their actions have been under the veneer of official state protocol. It had broken neither laws and followed both, while keeping all concerned with the hopes of a union between the two and also breaking off of this said engagement. By keeping everyone's conflicting wishes up, they had delayed the inevitable disaster that should happen should either any of the course of action be taken.
He had to hand it to the girl for giving them this reprieve. At that time when he had unveiled her, he had been in too much of a shock to be able to think coherently. He could still remember his instincts calling her as his, while his mind reeled at the repercussions. And then when they were called to start the formal dance between the knight and his Haven, the only thing that rang through his mind was a sense of doom. But Kagome Higurashi had recovered admirably. Instead of simply waiting for him to lead her to a waltz, the dance used by couples and mates and the first dance a knight and his Haven were to dance together, she had positioned her form to an official court dance.
He could still remember her dazzling blue eyes staring straight at him as she took a step backward and raised both her hands to shoulder height. One arm was outstretched while the other was bent in front of her collarbone. It was the first step to the official dance of both the minister of the left and right at a formal, official and extremely important function.
It was a highly unexpected move. But by reducing the dance to a highly stylized and formal move that reminded everyone of their positions as the balance that maintained both camps, it raised an idea that they would remain as such and would not continue this joining. Yet it was still a dance, so it also retained that idea that they would not break divine law and would become mates.
And from then on, they continued this custom of following tradition and twisting it into an official function. The dance. The letters. It had given them time. A time to gauge. A time to plot. A time to do everything in their power to soften the curse it would bring. But they were now running out of time. She was nearly of age, an age to take her duties as haven and an age to marry.
The faint sound of a clearing throat broke his thoughts like a wave upon the sand. He looked at the man in front of him. His gaze had been figured into a polite curiosity as he watched the elder man lower the cup he held to the table.
"What have the youkai lords been saying?" Lord Shigeru asked, fingers dancing absently across the cold stone surface.
"My lands will not be a problem," he replied calmly.
A disbelieving look met his words. Suddenly piercing blue eyes bore through him, demanding that he elucidate. It was a trait the man who bore the title of Minister of the Right was famous for. Even he as Minister of the Left, a position higher than the man's, was never given immunity to its presence.
He steepled his fingers. He spoke, "My vassals are loyal. Most have pledged that they will not question my decision."
Silence. The air was heavy, still. It stuck to them like a second skin.
He sighed. "A few though, blatantly disapprove of the match. They fear history to repeat itself, but they are not foolish enough to rise up against me."
"You fail to mention the Southern and Northern Lands."
He took a glance at the elder minister, his lashes hiding the quicksilver light of his golden orbs. The man had not taken his eyes off him. He should have known better that nothing would get past the Minister of the Right, one of the few he had truly respected. Though their position was hereditary, Lord Shigeru did not gain the respect and awe he currently enjoyed by inheritance. The man gained it by his political astuteness, his brilliance, and his unwavering sense of justice and righteousness.
"The lords of both lands have remained silent," he replied. His fingers tightened their grip on one another. His knuckles rose prominently, bone-white against moonlit skin.
The crickets chirped in the heat of the sun.
He looked away. Watching as a withered leaf fluttered by in a slow hypnotic trance.
"Their vassals, on the other hand," he continued, "have been…split." He at last described, for a lack of a better term. His tongue tripped at the almost crude description.
His ears twitched at the sound of a deep breath. Lord Higurashi's fingers became drumming lightly against the hard stone surface of the able.
"My situation is the same," the man spoke.
"But unlike the youkai lands, the Eastern Lands do not have aristocrats," he reminded. A gray brow rose against a lined forehead as his words. "Your rule is absolute."
"Hardly," the elder minister chided lightly. The tone was dizzyingly familiar. It reminded him of his younger days of impromptu lessons from the man. He could almost see that same twinkle that characterized Lord Higurashi's voice. He steeled himself, pushing the memories away in favor of the man's words. "My lands are run in a bureaucratic system manned by scholars who passed the civil service exam," he heard the man speak.
"Without them," Lord Shigeru continued as he opened his arms out in a gesture of almost helplessness, "my rule, the government will collapse."
"But surely, your generals…"
"My generals are split," Lord Shigeru spoke, cutting him off. "Most of my ministers are against the marriage."
Sesshoumaru began to speak when his companion raised a hand to forestall him. To anyone, he would not have stood for the continued interruptions. But it was Lord Shigeru, his father's friend, his mentor, and a man he respected. So he allowed it.
The man continued, his words tumbling in a mass of weariness. "The religious sects, on the other hand, deem that the union should continue."
"Those sects have no say in you government."
A shake of the head greeted his statement. The movements were slow, tinged with stooping gravity. "They have a hold on the people," was the words that followed it. "And the sects have a strong presence in the Imperial government. Let's not forget the human ministers who also have a smattering presence as well."
He frowned. It was a nightmare. He felt his temples pound with some unseen force. The sound of the drumming of fingers against stone did not help the rhythmic pain in his skull.
"Perhaps we could hammer out an agreement like the Emperor Jimmu Tennou's and Lady Midoriko's?" he grated out, wanting to have an end to the madness.
The beat stopped. Fingers stood poised against the dark granite, unwaveringly still.
"Do you think it's that simple?"
"We can keep the lines separate," he riposted, bristling at the implied rebuke.
"But the High Priestess Midoriko was human," a shrug, "and in a fashion, so was Emperor Jimmu Tennou."
He watched the condensing liquid pooled on his cup and slipped down the stone surface to form a dark ring of water.
"But our families are both descended from the great gods," he replied. His claw reached, taking out a fragile bead of water from the thousands that covered his cup. "The Higurashi from Amaterasu and Tsukiyomi. My line from Susanowo and Tsukiyomi."
"Sesshoumaru!" Lord Shigeru thundered.
The droplet of water broke at his claws. Clear liquid ran in tiny rivulets.
"You are youkai. My daughter is human." Shigeru's voice rang in the canopy of trees. It echoed underneath the force of the spell. "Our families represent our different people. Even if we still keep the two positions separate, no one will believe you, my daughter, or both the children that you two have when they take the place as Minister of the Left and as Minister of the Right."
Furrowed brows greeted him.
"Blood is thicker than water," the Minister of the Right admonished gently.
He met the unwavering stare. His shoulders lifted into a shrug.
"Then we cancel the union," he replied, voice impassive.
"Impossible," his fellow minister replied, shoulders slumping in defeat.
He was surprised, a jolt running down his spine. He had never seen the man look so defeated. The stubborn man he had known to never give up an inch when all he held dear was concerned.
"Kagome has seen into the Yata-no-kagami," Shigeru continued.
"What has the mirror shown?"
"Famine," was the reply; the voice whispery in unspoken regret. "A disaster far worse than those 50 years ago. Even all our preparations will never be enough."
"Nothing then," he spoke softly.
"Ah."
Golden eyes flashed. Sesshoumaru's lips thinned. His eyes narrowed.
"I won't accept it!" he growled.
The still air shifted, curled and grew. The grass undulated. The drooping petals, exhausted by the merciless heat, shook and fell free. One by one, they fell, fluttering and dancing between them.
Laughter. Pure unfettered chuckles erupted from his companion. Sesshoumaru stopped, stunned.
It was a sight. A middle aged man in the forbidden color of purple surrounded by the swirling yellow petals.
"You are so like my daughter," Lord Shigeru gasped out. "Kagome vowed that she will never let a war or a famine happen."
He felt the tension seeped off his skin. His muscles loosened. The feeling of an almost kindred spirit in the girl he does not know yet have chosen as his companion.
His eyes closed. He was perhaps at peace for awhile.
"If things were different," a voice spoke, cutting through silence like a knife through butter.
His eyes snapped open, turning to watch his companion as the man's lips where turned into a faint sad smile. Sesshoumaru felt a sense of disorientation. Lord Shigeru's image seemed to blur and stretch. It was now not a lord, not even a minister, and certainly not a politician. It was that of a father.
"If it where different," Lord Shigeru began once more, "I would not have hesitated when you choose my daughter as you Haven."
Sky-colored eyes rose to meet his bright amber orbs.
"Would you have," Shigeru whispered, "married her?"
Sesshoumaru felt the feather light touch of his lashes. His lids close. He rose as his eyes gleamed in the afternoon rays.
"I would have done my duty," he replied.
The curve on the lips widened ever so slightly at his words.
"I'm glad."
He bowed. His hair swept down with him in a silky waterfall. He found himself speaking, revealing his gratitude in simple words of thanks. Dropping from his lips was a title he never willingly bestowed to any one. Sensei.
He straightened, turning to go when he heard Lord Higurashi's parting words.
"I only took an egotistical pup under my wing because I saw the man you were and were to become."
A sudden chill swept across the capital. All felt it, the sheer raw power that ran through everyone's skin. It was electrifying, maddening. It was too strong sending those sensitive enough crashing to the dust frothing and screaming. Even those who would never have felt anything shivered in fear.
Sesshoumaru jerked up, his senses screaming at the onslaught. He gritted his teeth, nearly splintering bone at the force of his gnashing. His breath caught his throat. He knew this feeling, had felt it three years ago. It beckoned him, drove him reeling back to the past as he broke into a head run.
Echoes.
The hushed whispers that followed him as the huge wooden doors boomed painfully behind him. The great hall echoed hollowly at his wake.
There were tens, hundreds of echoes against the white marble halls. The thumping of boots were erratic marches booming like thunder. Crashing of feet, like the pitter-patter of rain in a harsh storm.
And there was darkness.
Incense, smoke curled around him, leaving his vision into a haze of gray. He moved past it parting it clinging nonexistence into the darkness of the pitiful glow of embers.
A slew of darkness from the dull armors and crimson plumes waving like flags of war. There were glimmer of gold and silver too and perhaps a flash of color then and there.
However, there was blood, so much blood.
He saw nothing but a monotonous sheen of smoke, until a form stood clear in front of him.
An oozing trail burned brightly against light and dark. Its scent filled the air in a heady tumble.
Silence.
The scent of irises against the rain, wind and other elusive things. It called him, bringing him to face a slight form, bent and bowed, covered and wrapped.
The scent hung in the air, the metallic stench of blood mingled with a scent of someone dear. The doors flung open with a bang, and men and women rushed inside with weapons drawn, half-baked plans furnished, and thousands of questions. The huge vaulted room opened in submission yet all stopped and stared, frozen with shock. Standing in the middle of the brightness was a frail figure of a girl drenched from head to toe with blood and gore.
"Kagome," Sesshoumaru murmured. He would have been appalled by the familiarity of his address even if it was at the privacy of his person. No matter how much his instincts declared her as mate, his soul as Haven; she was still no more than an acquaintance at best. But in her state, he could not care. She was in front of him, wounded, bleeding in fits and starts. He could see Lord Shigeru as well, the man's blue eyes tightly controlled by concern.
Their eyes met. Weariness. The weight of the things to come.
"What is the MEANING of this?" voices rang. They were barely above a whisper, yet it ran like adulated waves, causing the black armored figures to retreat to the shadows.
Kagome said nothing. Her flat gaze flickered towards the crowd in dismissal and returned once again to the seated figure, adorned in purple and gold.
"My Imperial Lord," she began in a voice, spasm and flat, and then fell silent.
Everyone waited with baited breath.
At last, her hands moved hands that were cupped together so one covered the other. They moved slowly as if fighting an unseen force, and as if she had no more strength to move them.
Bloody white hands parts, fingers moving as if caressing the finest of spider-weave and its silk. They revealed, nestled in her palm, a chain of beads and a huge sphere glowing with inner light like the fragments of rainbows. It tilted, tottered. Then fell down towards the ground.
"The Shikon-no-tama. The Yasakani-no-magatama," the Emperor spoke in awe and disbelief, as he half stood from his throne.
The jewel clinked against the floor. Then, there was an uproar.
Shrill tongues lashing across the silence. Booming voices echoing horrendously against the endless roof edged with confusion. Raspy words buzzing in a never ending stream. The whole erupting in a whirl of questions and demands, of endless yammering laced with fear.
Yet they were all lost to Sesshoumaru, to Shigeru, to the Emperor and to the girl. They watched the stone rolled on across the expanse of the room, forms standing ramrod straight, waiting in stillness.
Then, there was movement. The wind blew, and Emperor Amaterasu VII stepped down from his pinnacle.
One.
Shigeru closed his eyes, his hands meeting. They fisted between each other, hidden by his sleeves, dusty like the color of the deepening sunset.
Two.
Sesshoumaru took one hesitant foot forward. Then nothing, he could not turn his eyes away from her.
Three steps.
Kagome turned away. The white of her robes slowly being eaten by crimson.
The Emperor bent down. His hands reached out to enclose it in a seal of his fingers. With great reverence, he held it close as he rose. He cradled it in his hands, mouth opening, maybe in prayer. He cried out, "ENOUGH!"
The word cut through the mounting questions. It echoed like the thunder, deafening all who tried to resist. All turned to stare at their ruler. The force of his command could not be denied. Yet he, Sesshoumaru, could only see her. Her scent, her voice, the sight of her form ruined in a mix of scarlet and pain was sending his instincts snarling to be free just like those years ago. In his mind, her form blurred.
The red trail of blood as she walked away.
The red carpet that showed him away, amidst the ruin of smoke.
Kagome's slight form. Her back bathed in the dull light of afternoon.
His hands ran through the smooth silk of her robes. The softness of her form, the fragility.
She swayed.
He had grasped her hand. Those delicate appendages.
He felt his body move.
He saw crimson sleeves peeking out of the white sleeves. From death, we return to life as a sheath to the sword.
She tottered.
The concealing veil and robes fell.
Reason screamed that he cannot act as her protector so rashly.
The forbidden colors of scarlet.
Fell towards the puddle of her blood.
Sapphire eyes, wide with shock stared at him. It engulfed her delicate face.
But he was beyond reason. The primitive demon within him called that he had to take care of her.
A fierce wind slammed into him. It carried no gentleness, yet it caused no harm. The icy cold air was like a slap at the cheek. It was a barrier that carried so much admonition.
Sesshoumaru stilled. There was the snap of a fan, and the wind followed. He stood ramrod straight, as if he was not rushing a second ago, yet a faint snarl could not help but escape past his lips. Clawed feminine hands cradled the unconscious form.
"My Royal Lord Sesshoumaru," the woman whispered, ruby red eyes flashing in warning.
"Lady Kagura," he murmured in return. His eyes were narrowed.
Notes:
Yata-no-kagami – one of the imperial regalia, a bronze mirror. It symbolizes wisdom. Kept in the shrine of Ise which is dedicated to Amaterasu. Historically, during the Heian period (I'm not sure if this practice is continued), the vestal of Ise watched over and interpreted the signs in the mirror. The girl, a virgin of noble birth, was chosen by the Emperor and ended her term when the Emperor died or abdicated. She lived in ritual purity and presided over the shrines which was said to determine the fortunes of the Emperor.
michinokuni paper – thick white paper made from the bark of the spindle tree. This was used for formal correspondences. In the Heian period, to receive this sort of letter from a lover was disheartening.
Tsukiyomi – god of the moon, brother of Amaterasu, the sun goddess, and Susanowo, the god of storms and the great destroyer.
Forbidden colors (kinjiki) – shades of deep scarlet and purple that was barred to all but those of the highest rank, with rare exceptions.
Author's notes:
Chapter I is done!
I hope I didn't bore you all with the explanations and the politics. It's a little longer than I thought, but I hope this is enough to wet your appetite. Thank you all. I hope it was to you expectations. Please tell me if your confused or there's anything awkward. Are the characters OOC? I would like to hear from you.Questions, comments, reviews, suggestions are very much appreciated.