Title: Échangé
Part of: Inuyasha no konto
Theme: Ten Years in the Future
Word Count: 1942
Disclaimer: Any characters within these shorts are the creative property of Rumiko Takahashi. They are being used for non-profit recreation.
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Échangé
Mama, can you tell me the story?
Hidden within a child's fairy tale, one woman struggles to discover the truth about herself, her husband, and the other woman.
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The little girl clamored into the hut, her long silver hair – so like the color of her father's, her mother noted with a grin – fanning out behind her. She was only three years old – had it already been three years? – but could already keep up with the kitsune. She raced to the corner of the hut and threw herself into the lap of her mother. "Mama," she squealed and wrapped her arms around her mother's neck.
Her mother barely had time to wonder about the sudden show of affection before the girl's father came bounding in through the hut's entrance. His golden eyes twinkled with excitement that had only previously shown during battle. The look had been eerily absent for many years to follow the collapsing of the ancient well but now that his demons had been defeated, the look was always present when he gazed upon his fledgling family.
His daughter squealed again and held tight to her mother – I wonder what those two were doing out there? – before grinning cheekily at her father. She knew how to play her parent's against each other; her mother was a weak human, her father a powerful half-demon. She may be able to play games with her father but they both needed to be careful around her mother.
Not that I can't take care of myself, she thought, moving her daughter to sit in her lap. No one was my equal with a bow. Inuyasha sat down across from his wife and reached out for the girl. She laughed and climbed into the protective hold of her mother. He smirked. Kid learns fast.
She giggled at her father's smirk before trying to mimic the expression. Her tiny nose crinkled and the nub of a baby fang protruded over her lip. She looked adorable. Inuyasha laughed.
Her mother laughed softly and patted the girl's head, careful to brush the fur on her white dog ears – another trait of her father's – downward so as not to irritate it. She snuggled up against the warmth of her mother's hand and grinned, foregoing the attempted smirk that had just been there. "Mama?" she asked, breaking the comfortable silence with her high-pitched voice, "can you tell me the story?"
The story. Her mother had told her the story during her first human night. Inuyasha had been protecting the village from a fierce oni and had not been there to keep the child calm – it was her human mother's turn to do so. Though she didn't understand the language then, the calming presence of her mother as she spun her tale the entire night kept her from panicking as she lost her demons powers. It was the first thing that had occurred to her to tell her fearful child; it was the story she knew best. It had then become tradition for her to tell her daughter the story every full moon since – and many times beside that.
The child loved the story because, as a child, she could accept the improbabilities of the story. It never occurred to her to question it at all.
Which made sense, of course, seeing that ever word of the story was true. It was glossed over to spare the child the nasty details of death and destruction, but true nonetheless.
Inuyasha stretched out and lay on the floor of the hut; the story brought back far too many memories for him. He didn't need to hear it for the countless time – he lived it. To him, the story was far more than a familiar fairy tale.
Her mother smiled down on the expectant child. "Of course," she answered and watched her child's blue-grey eyes – my sole contribution to our child's appearance, she thought wryly – light up. She tweaked her nose gently and began to recite; she had told the child the 'story' so many times it began to spill from her lips, bringing the child back to a time long past – if, by long past, I mean ten years ago, she thought to herself but she never said that part out loud. To the child, it wasn't all true – it was just her favorite story.
She began the story in the same place she began it every time.
Once upon a time there was a virtuous miko and the hanyou that loved her very much. She loved him back but her duty as a priestess, guarding the famous Shikon no Tama, kept them from being together. One day, though, they decided to run away and be with another for their love overcame that. She would give up being a priestess and he would become sacrifice his demon blood for her and they would be happy. But, before they could, a bad man tricked the hanyou and the priestess into hurting each other. The priestess was murdered but, before she died, she sealed the hanyou to a tree in an everlasting sleep. But the sleep did not last forever.
Somewhere, in the future, the reincarnation of the first priestess fell down a well near her hut and landed in the past. This girl, a priestess in her own right, was treated as a stranger before the village recognized her as the reincarnation of their beloved first priestess. It had been fifty years since she had been killed and she returned to them -- and they were happy. They were happy until this second priestess awoke the sleeping hanyou, who had remained sealed to the tree. When he woke up he hated her because he thought she was the first priestess. But she wasn't. She was Kagome...
She paused in her narration. She knew what was coming next.
"That's my name," the little girl interrupted, grinning widely. Her mother knew that her daughter – her Kagome – sat through the entire beginning of the story every time just so she could interrupt at that part. It was almost as if she felt that, because she and the character shared the name, she was a part of the story. Which, of course, she was – she was, after all, the child of the main characters.
"Yes, my Kagome." Her mother agreed her as she always agreed at that part in the story; it was her indication that the story had pleased the child. After three years of telling the story to her child, she had memorized all of her cues. She said the same lines so often that her child failed to notice that her mother was less fluid when discussing the arrival of the Kagome character. It was, in truth, her mother's least favorite part - aside from the betrayal in the beginning - of the whole story.
She began to recite the rest of the story but knew she would not have to speak much longer. Kagome always lost interest in the story after her namesake's arrival through enchanted well. Now that she was a little older, she no longer wanted to listen to the rest of the tale. She had heard her mother tell of the introduction of a kitsune, followed by a cursed monk and a determined taijiya. She delighted and squealed in disgust at the mention of a dead miko being raised from the ground and walking one more among the living. She hissed and enjoyed hearing about the demon Naraku who, as the ultimate villain in the story, seemed to orchestrate the entire tale. But on days when she was cranky or tired - such as today, her mother thought, remembering that Kagome and Inuyasha had been playing out in the village earlier that afternoon - she barely made it past the second priestess's introduction before napping or stopping her mother from reciting the rest of the story.
She had never gotten to the end, though, to the part where Naraku was defeated. She had missed out on the next scene of the tale when the famed Shikon no Tama was complete and wished upon. She never knew that her beloved Kagome had used the jewel to wish life into the dead priestess; she never heard how the original Kagome had disappeared at the close of her wish leaving them all behind. She had yet to hear how the once-dead miko and the hanyou finally decided to marry and start their own little family, naming their first child after the strange time-traveling miko who, with her kind heart and pure intent, repaired a betrayal from half a century before nor the part where the monk and the taijiya married and moved to a far distant land – the exterminator's village, she remembered, though they hadn't met up with the pair since Sango announced she was with her third child.
Soft snores broke up the remainder of the tale. She looked down to see that Kagome had fallen asleep in her embrace. She lovingly caressed her child's hair. Inuyasha's ear twitched and turned to watch his two women. When he saw that his daughter was fast asleep he sat up. "It works every time, Kikyou," he acknowledged and reached for Kagome's small form. "Keh, I don't understand how you telling her about us killing Naraku puts her to sleep."
The former dead miko – now alive and no longer virginal – allowed her husband to place their child on her mat. She thought about his comment and bowed her head. "She doesn't listen to it for Naraku, Inuyasha. It's for her." She didn't look up as she spoke.
It had been ten years since the strange girl from the future disappeared in a flash of pink light and the collapse of a well. It had been six years since she last spoke to Inuyasha about his Kagome and the feelings they shared. It had been four years since she married Inuyasha. It had been three since she named her first child after the woman who made it all possible.
Deep down, she knew that's why she continued to repeat the story to her Kagome, emphasizing the generosity of the second priestess; she needed to remind him that his Kagome had been special to her as well in a strange enough way. But it was she that remained. Kikyou was still there and she had sacrificed enough for him – as much as Kagome did, she often thought to herself – to be with him. Wasn't she the one who gave up her miko status to marry him? Hadn't it been she who carried his child?
Kikyou kept her head bowed at her thoughts. She always felt guilty when she thought poorly of her reincarnation; while five hundred years separated the women, they still shared a soul. It had been her parting gift to them all: a life for Kikyou, a wife for Inuyasha, a future for Kagome. In the end she had done what was best for them all.
If only she could convince herself that what the girl had done was right.
The hanyou didn't answer. He didn't have to. He loved her, Kikyou knew that. Inuyasha had always loved her – ten years ago, fifty years ago – for their love was lasting. She knew that, too.
And she knew that he loved her – ten years ago, five hundred years in the future – for their love was lasting. She knew that, too.
Such is the sorrow in sharing a soul.
And, not for the first time since the well crumbled, Kikyou understood just how Kagome had felt every time she had shown up unexpectedly during her quest. It was the same way Kikyou felt when she was reminded of her husband's affection for her reincarnation.
It may have been ten years but it had not been five hundred yet.