Chapter 8 An Interlude

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Inutaisho had begun courting the Inu nobility of his Western Lands at the tender age of one hundred, but none were suited to him. Beauty fell on blind eyes and sweet whispers on deaf ears, although they were the keenest in the world. He was an island of power and although he had ingrained compassion into his way of life and very soul, he could not feel the sort of love that was demanded in a mating ritual. His most trusted advisers—curiously, a flea youkai, a sword smith and a sealing demon—had insisted to him that since he was a king, an Inu god, there was really no reason to mate for love. Inutaisho had proclaimed he found no female suited to him, and his word was law. No one questioned whether he was truly lonely, an iceberg of supremacy that had a sort of longing that was cold and dead, never insistent and never desperate.

Centuries later an evil hanyou called Naraku would employ very similar methods to create his offspring as Inutaisho had used to create his firstborn, Sesshoumaru.

Sesshoumaru had been born from one of his four fangs of his first set of teeth. Humans called them "baby teeth" although he was hardly an infant at eight hundred when he lost them. Two others had become swords of astonishing power—the Sou'unga and the Tensaiga. The fourth of them would be used later, in sealing a demon called Ryuokotsusei. When he had decided to make a third sword, the Tetsusaiga, he cracked his left fang off to create it, but these events had not happened yet.

Sesshoumaru had never had a childhood and had no mother. He was born looking as though he were the human age of eleven, about eighty years for youkai.

"Why am I, Father?" asked Sesshoumaru. Those were his first words after being unnaturally born. He didn't ask who he was (he seemed to know that already), or what he was (he seemed to know that too), or how he was (he didn't care at all). He stood, wet, and was quickly clothed by castle attendants standing by. Sesshoumaru took no notice of them, only of Inutaisho. Sesshoumaru gazed in pure lust over the Sou'unga and the Tensaiga. The king nodded to the attendants to leave, which they did so with haste.

"You are my eldest and only, for now," said Inutaisho, examining the young man. There was no child-like innocence in him, only a cold and calm interest for answers. "Everything I have conquered will be yours one day when I have died. You are Sesshoumaru, an Inu youkai of the West."

"What would you have me do?" asked Sesshoumaru, his gaze lifting up into his father's eyes. There was nothing there but an empty desire for power that Inutaisho was slightly afraid of.

"You will begin your training this first year of your life upon the High Mountain." Father and son looked out the window of the castle to a mountain far away "On your way there, you will find a toad youkai. He will become your eternal vassal once he has sworn his loyalty to you."

"I will go today," said Sesshoumaru. He did not make any parting or motion of any kind to his Father or any of the castle attendants. He simply walked out of the chamber and out of the castle.

"Very well," said Inutaisho, even in his old age surprised by the quiet ambition of his spawn. He saw a ball of light traveling across the ground, making its way to the mountain.

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The Four Lessons of the Mountain was a tradition among the crown royalty of the Inu line for millennia. The Lesson took twenty-five years each, all spent in a crouched, meditative position inside of a cave at the summit. They were teachings for battle and for one's conduct as a monarch.

Patience was the first lesson. The entire one hundred years was a test of patience. To make time seem as though it were an illusion, when the second would only creep as though they were inchworms, or when a year or two went by without notice, was a difficult task. To lure an opponent took much patience. To accept things that could not be changed and to make changes when one could, and deciding between, were all slow and trying things.

Endurance was next. It was a much better thing in battles to bear an attack rather than to dodge it. It was a powerful tactic and exhibited the durability of an opponent. It went hand-in-hand with patience. Many battles were just means of waiting until an opponent's strength was spent in futility of an attack, then striking him down. To be able to bear pain was a virtue.

Strength, for whatever reason, was the easiest to grasp. It was a very physical thing, learning to wield a sword most cleverly, to build up the muscle of a youkai to fifty times greater than the weak youkai. Swiftness and sharpness were also of utmost importance. He learned quickly that he was to fight his battles in human-like form. His true inu form, when used in battle, only made a show of his desperation and inabilities as a warrior.

Compassion was the final lesson. Sesshoumaru had completed seventy-five years of training and decided that the final lesson had no worth for him. He left the cave, one of the strongest youkai in the world.

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While Sesshoumaru trained, Inutaisho roamed the lands as a lone hunter, stalking and killing youkai that plagued the lands of humans. His own people did not know his penchant for it, almost as though it were a hobby. It was right for him to protect humans, he knew so in his heart. After his nine hundred years of learning, roaming lands far beyond Japan, and seeking enlightenment in many places, he decided to trust his heart in all matters and listen to the wisdom of the weak.

He had come upon one of the most idyllic settings in his western territory. It was a feudal town in the mountains, overlooking the sparkling sea. He arrived at dawn in the springtime, while the flowering trees had buds and the world was waking once again.

A sea serpent had been destroying fishermen's boats; Inutaisho made short work of it, although he had underestimated his opponent. He injured his arm, but not badly. He would need a night's rest to heal it before he left the quiet village. He sought sanctuary at the shrine in the middle of the town.

A white, silk path led into the shrine. It was very well-kept for a shrine, he noticed. It was decorated with many jewels. He could see a tower was the focal point of the shrine, which was unusual. He climbed the tower, walking the silk path up.

He was astonished to find a young woman of about fifteen meditating at the window as the dawn light shone through. It had probably just been the moment, with the soft light and the white silk that clothed the girl, but he had been captivated fleetingly by her beauty.

"Come," she invited. "Pray with me, great one." She extended her small hand to the stranger. He took it without question and knelt beside her. His blood dripped upon the silk. For once in his life, he felt weak and dirty in comparison to another. A human, no less! But she turned and faced him. Her hand gently touched his rough, permanently scarred face. He had the appearance of a thirty-year-old human, perhaps thirty-five.

In the instant she touched him, he felt his soul exploding inside him. This was not an innocent and naïve girl. She was only fifteen, but he felt her wisdom and gentleness surpass him by an infinite amount of years. She was a miko, he discovered. He sensed her power to be like a great and tumultuous army of samurai that waited for nothing inside a castle keep. She knew of her own power and chose not to use it.

"Izayoi," he breathed out, overwhelmed by her. Her name was Izayoi. He had never felt this way at any time in his life. He had controlled his first steps, his first words, his lessons in the mountains. At this time he felt very small and completely at the mercy of this miko, but he did not fear her.

"I thank you, Lord Inutaisho," Izayoi said. Her voice was like a cooling summer rain. "You have rid us of a youkai that has brought us sadness."

"The youkai has taken a few of your village men," said Inutaisho consolingly.

"What has been given has been taken away. A reminder that we do not own ourselves, we are only lent. Even great kings of youkai such as yourself are not your own masters."

"You could become the most powerful miko in the land," said Inutaisho. "Why do you not develop your powers?"

"What good is it to seek more power? I trust the gods above me, as they trust me to do my part. You seek healing, do you not?" she asked. She soothingly—the most tender touch he had ever felt—placed her hands upon his wound. In a moment, she had healed the wound completely. "I give what is sought of me; gods will it, and nothing more. I will give you anything you seek."

He felt his heart swelling within his chest.

"I would seek your love," he said, surprised at the anxiety of his confession. He could not ever remember having this sick nervousness in his stomach and fear of her rejection. "But I would not ask it of you, holy miko."

"I would give it to you," the miko replied sagely. She smiled, and her eyes seemed to shine like dove's tears. "But I would not force it upon you, Inutaisho."

"Never!" he gasped, gripping her small hand, but releasing, for fear of crushing her. "Will you make love to me this night, Izayoi? Will you be my mate?"

"It is before our time," sighed Izayoi.

"Is not time relative?" he asked, staring intently into her face. "Please tell me time is relative, wise one, or my love for you will be nothing more than a dream."

"It is," Izayoi whispered in his ear, edging closer to him. "I am only fifteen, and you have lived over ten full lives of men; yet I adore you, knowing our souls are both infinitely entwined. Time has no meaning, but events are sequential…events must occur before we are one, my lord. Soon my father's kingdom will fall, in three year's time. Come for me the night before the siege, and make no other visit before. We will be wed that night."

"You can see what is to come?" he asked, astonished.

"What has passed will come…what will pass has already happened. The only matter is seeing it as such," she said enigmatically. Inutaisho pondered her words but could not figure out their meaning.

"I will come for you, beloved Izayoi," he said huskily. He kissed her deeply, and he felt her weak body melt under his desire. "Be safe." He released her hand. As he walked away, Izayoi realized he had placed ring with a stone shaped like a fang on her intended finger, sealing their betrothal.

"Izayoi?" asked the young guard outside. He came in, and his eyes widened at the blood upon the silk. "Izayoi, what has transpired here?"

"Fate, Takemaru," Izayoi replied. "Only fate transpires."

"Ever the cryptic," he said fondly. He looked as though he would like to stroke her hair, but thought better of it. "Why is there blood on the sacred silk?"

"It is the wine of my love," Izayoi replied.

"Love?" asked Takemaru fearfully. "Are you…are you yet chaste?"

"Yes," giggled Izayoi. "But I am engaged to be married." She showed him the ring.

"It is blasphemy!" Takemaru screamed, knocking over a statue in sudden fury. "You are the Holy Miko! You bring your house honor in this way…your father's fortresses remain safe only because you are the chaste and pure virgin goddess of the West! They do not attack your purity. If you go through with this, Izayoi, you endanger this whole village!"

"This is the way it was meant to be, Takemaru. I am to be the wife of Inutaisho." Izayoi looked out the window.

"Inu…taisho…" whispered Takemaru. "You do this for a filthy youkai? Are you yet Izayoi, the priestess, the noble daughter of our Lord?"

"I have finally met my fiancé in this lifetime. Scores of men have not been so lucky to find the one their souls have been created for to love."

"At what expense?" Takemaru whispered. "Your father's men will die defending this castle needlessly."

"All life ends at one point," Izayoi replied. "Our only regret should be that we are sad and linger. We forget that we are reincarnated and become happy once again."

"You speak nonsense. That Inu filth has corrupted you. I will never let him touch you again," Takemaru swore.

"Do not concern yourself, friend. Upon my wedding night you will have other things to attend to." Izayoi stood from her prayer spot before the window. The sun was now completely risen and blindingly garish. She turned her back on the samurai and walked slowly and stately down the tower on her walk of white silk.

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Inutaisho felt deliriously happy for the remainder of spring. He would not see Izayoi for three years, however. He spent many hours in fields of wild flowers, dreaming about how beautiful she would become. How silly he was, the king of great youkai, thinking of a girl that would be alive and perish before his life was even half over.

He remembered miko powers were subject to diminishing upon the act of physical love. He would need a sort of ultimate power to protect her. His physical body was enough for men, but what of youkai? His enemies would try anything to get to her if they believed Izayoi was the weakness of Inutaisho. He broke his left fang, the largest of his second set of teeth, and brought it before his adviser, the sword smith Totosai. The master crafted Inutaisho's final and favorite sword, the Tetsusaiga, the greatest sword of the living world. This is Izayoi's sword. It will be hers and my heir's, he thought.

The youkai blinked and it was the end of summer. He had spent the remainder of the seasons outside of the village, protecting it from any sort of attack, not that there were many at all. He was interrupted in his sweet existence by his unnaturally born son, Sesshoumaru.

Inutaisho stood with his back to the world, staring out at the water. He had sensed the boy—no, Sesshoumaru was a man now—from many miles away. His power radiated like a great Sun traversing the earth. Inutaisho wondered if one day he would battle to the death with his son, for he knew that his offspring had gained no warmth during his training.

"You are premature, Sesshoumaru," Inutaisho said quietly. Although Sesshoumaru stood a great distance away, he heard his father's words perfectly. "Why have you not completed your training? You still must serve twenty-five years to learn compassion."

"I will not spend another minute learning weakness," Sesshoumaru announced. "I have observed you, father. This compassion you so highly prize has left you a puppet of a human woman. You have not been to your castle in a decade. Has my great warrior father succumbed to sentimentality?"

"Never," Inutaisho swore. "I have found my mate. I created you in my despair that I would not find her, and I believe that is why you lack compassion…it is a reflection of my own coldness. I need not have created you now, for I will bear an heir this decade. However, I do not regret your existence."

"I see," Sesshoumaru ceded. "The fact aside that this heir you will have will be a half-blood, do you revoke my claim to your lands upon your death?"

"Your narrow-mindedness sickens me," Inutaisho sighed. "Is conquest your path?"

"Hie, Father."

"Then I will not revoke it. Sesshoumaru is my first-born and it is only right he should become Lord of the Western Lands. But my second-born will have a far greater destiny than the petty skirmishes of a war hawk."

"As you wish. I have no further business with you, father." Sesshoumaru turned and began to walk away. Inutaisho felt his presence pause before disappearing. "That new sword you wield is not becoming of you."

"Are you so ignorant that you do not recognize the power of this Tetsusaiga?" asked Inutaisho. He drew the sword and let it transform in his hands. Sesshoumaru's eyes widened slightly. "It is the final sword of mine. Do not concern yourself with it, Sesshoumaru. It was not meant for you."

"When you are dead, father. That is when it will be mine. I will wield it and conquer yours and my enemies. I will accomplish what you have not; I will be the Lord of this world."

Is there nothing in this world that is good to you, Sesshoumaru? he thought. Why do you want it if there is nothing in it that you love? Is nothing sacred or worth protecting?

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It was midday, the day of her secret wedding. Today was the day, Izayoi could feel it. Fate compelled her this day to appear before her father.

Her servants lay the white silk road before her. As the Holy Miko, she was not allowed to let her feet touch the ground and soil them on the common ground. She placidly walked upon the silk that climbed the castle steps. She entered and walked before her father, the Lord of the village.

"Izayoi, Miko above all others," he greeted her. "Have you had a vision?"

"I have, father. I want to tell you to fortify this village. In two days we will be attacked by an army of samurai."

Gasps rang out in the court. Her father pondered her words and nodded.

"It will be done. Many thanks to this daughter who is gifted with foresight." Izayoi bowed and left the castle, walking back to the shrine. Her servants left to do their daily duties. Takemaru had left to help the men fortify the village. After years of ease and protection, they had their work cut out for them to prepare for battle in a day.

Izayoi went to the altar and called upon a man praying there.

"Houshi-sama."

"Yes, Izayoi-sama, how may I be of service?" he asked, bowing before her.

"I require your services tonight."

"Oh? For what reason?"

"I will be married tonight, Holy Monk."

"M-Married!" stammered the monk, looking fearfully at her. "It's forbidden, milady! How can you say such a thing? Who would dare marry you?"

"Have no fear, houshi," she said, touching his face. She saw his eyes instantly react with calmness to her touch. "It was meant to be this way. Please meet me in the Sunset Garden at dusk. My husband will be waiting there." The monk nodded and briskly walked back to his cloister.

She retreated to her tower and selected her most formal kimono. It was beautiful and white, like most of the garments she owned, like most of the things she was surrounded with night and day. By the time the servants had dressed her after she called for them and after when she sent the away, it was almost sunset.

She walked down the path that led outside. He waited for her, along with the lone monk as their witness.

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After the brief ceremony, Inutaisho carried her away into the forest, high upon the mountain. He had prepared a primitive bridal bed of soft moss and grass near a waterfall, far away from the village.

"We are not yet mates, by youkai standards," said Inutaisho, grasping her hand after he set her feet upon the ground. "Our marriage must be consummated." He felt his desire growing deep in his stomach. He didn't know how much longer he could contain it. Three years of longing had did this to him.

"I am ready," she whispered. "My body calls for you, as I can hear yours call for me." She loosened the ties on her kimono and let it fall to the ground. She pressed her body close to her new husband.

"I know that it is not important, by any standards. But you are the most lovely creature I have ever seen upon this Earth."

Izayoi smiled and embraced him.

"This will be the last time we meet like this," she said to him as he kissed her neck slowly, prolonging his bliss. "This is the last time we shall embrace each other in this lifetime. When you see me again it will not be under these perfect circumstances."

He did not question her.

"Then this time it will be magnificent." His armor had been shed and his hands couldn't hold her close enough to him.

"After tonight, come for me again in nine new moons. When it falls upon the ninth—and it will be earlier than expected, for the earth shall come in between the sun and moon—that is night you shall come for me again. It will be the last time you see me."

"Nonsense," he whispered back to her, thrusting his nose into her soft curtains of black hair. His Inu senses were bombarded with her sweetness. "I will not leave you alone for so long because you are my mate."

"Tomorrow's dawn will spirit you away from me, dearest," she sighed. "I will mourn your absence. Do not forget. The ninth new moon."

Once again, his mouth found hers, and they spoke no more.

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Inutaisho awoke to the best morning he could have ever received. The mating desire that had been stored up in him for centuries had exhausted itself in one night. His woman and mate lied next to him under his robe, sleeping still, content and satisfied. Nothing could have made him happier. He stroked her soft skin, so warm to the touch. He no longer felt as though he were alone.

"Master Inutaisho!" Myouga the flea buzzed quietly. "Lord!"

"Myouga?" Inutaisho replied in a low voice. "This isn't the best moment."

"I apologize deeply, milord, but I have been searching for you for months. A youkai has surfaced in your lands."

"What is the nature of this youkai?"

"He is a dragon called Ryuokotsusei. He is threatening the human villages and youkai settlements. Some of your people have tried to fight him, but all have perished. They call for the power of your Tetsusaiga to deliver them from this demon. You are needed back home, master."

"I have not been for many years. Can Sesshoumaru not slay this youkai?"

"He refuses to try. He says it is a waste of his time. I believe the people of your kingdom need a show of faith that you are still their king and protector. Their confidence in you wanes."

"Hie," Inutaisho nodded solemnly. "Myouga. Stay with Izayoi until I return. However, if anything should happen, seek me out so that I might protect her." He cast a mournful look at his beautiful young wife. It pained him to leave their cozy woodland bed. He would rather have made love to her twice again that day and found a place to build themselves a new home, a place far away from warring castles and expectations, where they could simply be a union of man and woman without interference. "Sleep well, my love. You are safe in this forest." He created a barrier around Izayoi. It would follow her for the rest of the day when she made it back safely to the village.

He dressed and armed himself once more and took off at a swift pace, bounding off the sides of mountains back into the heart of his lands. The best he could do now was to slay the youkai quickly and return to her.

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