Memory's Moon: A Dream Of Swords
--
"Oi, Kikyou, shoot her! Just like you shot me…"
Is this a dream?
No- The voice is too real to be a dream and her legs hurt with the sharp burn of exhaustion. She's been running, running away from something with fangs and pincers and sharp claws, pale skin and an ancient smile that beckons back to the time humans first learnt to fear the darkness. Dark hair in the wind, a knowing dark gaze burning into her back as she runs and runs and runs-
"You're making a worse deal than Onigumo ever made, you know…"
Steel lies solid in her hands and she raises it with desperate strength, unable to release the burning blade; it bursts into pearly incandescence, casting pulsing sheets of moonshine over a serene, intent face, the mirror of her own but aged and twisted with awful wisdom. Calm velvet-brown eyes watching her with mingled loneliness and pity, the pink jewel in her hands fading into ashes and flame.
"He chose you."
It hurts everywhere, the moonshine darkening to rich magenta, the color flowing under her skin and seething in her very bones. The sword in her hands still drags her upright, pointed skywards like a lightning rod in reverse, an eternal pillar of fire against an equally eternal dusk sky. Dusk… the color of a priest's somber robes, golden shakujou describing a shining arc through the air, dark eyes bright with false gaiety and a bone-deep acceptance of life's inevitable conclusion.
"Life is too short to be serious all the time, Kagome-sama…"
Magenta darkens to black, the flowing tresses of a huntress with open, honest eyes, a sad smile and slow tears. The huntress crouches in the darkness, poised to strike, yet those battle-scarred hands make little children laugh…
"Even though I know he's dead… I can't let him go-"
Dead?
Death is lying in a noxious meadow, bound by imp's chains and watching the reflection of a faceless woman embrace a young, pale-haired boy. Death is walking through a village of butchered humans- death is kneeling in a thicket, staring up at an upraised sickle-blade with mingled desperation and defiance- death is so many things that slip away from memory like fallen heads of dead camellia from a wilting shrub, beyond the shine of swords in the air and clawed hands reaching for her.
"Just get out of the way! I'll protect you if that's what it takes-"
A princely pale man with only one arm, facing down a snarling youkai who had once been her friend- who still was her friend- calm and assured; that hand resting on the dark head of a tiny human girl, never sparing the child a glance, yet unswerving in its care and hidden affection. Blazing gold eyes tinting crimson with anger- those same eyes studying herself almost dismissively as he left the youkai subdued in the dust, the stronger of the two brothers who could have been twins but for the harsh disparity of their souls.
"There is something this Sesshoumaru wished to ascertain…"
A warm hand, heartbreakingly familiar, lying comfortingly on her head; she knows this hand from somewhere, a hand that touched her many times before, part of a pair that held her child's body and told her that the worst demons in the world could never harm her. Warm hands joined to a warm heart, warm heart to warm eyes of deep drowning blue. Eyes that gazed at her one last time as the familiar hands urgently thrust her up the wooden steps, out of the wellhouse and toward the shrine itself, turning away to face the malignancy that burst from the well like pus from a lanced boil.
"Run, Ka-chan! Tell your mother I love her-"
The darkness collapsing into the well, the familiar person dragged along with it as time rewound and restarted behind her retreating back, the well sealed with wood and sacred paper as if a youkai had not reached forth from its depths. She remembered him now, the laughing man with sad eyes who had proven his loyalty to her family by leaving them.
"Dad…dy?"
----
She opened blurry eyes to stare unseeingly at the familiar cream ceiling, still transfixed by the flashing images that danced in her vision, a waking dream so real that it might as well have been memory.
Memory.
Daddy.
"Daddy," she mumbled out loud, sitting up in twilight's uncertain half-light to rub at grit in her eyes. The dream had been so real, so vivid in her mind's eye… but wouldn't she have remembered something like that happening? "Mama said you went far away…"
Sleep had fled her now; instead of fruitlessly lying down again, she wandered downstairs in search of something to drink, and maybe a cracker to munch on. Her feet patted the wooden boards underfoot softly- even in the shadowy murkiness of the unlighted house, she had walked this path ever since she was old enough to have her own room, and her feet knew the way.
"Ka-chan, don't you think flying would be a wonderful thing to do?"
She stumbled, barely catching herself with a shoulder pressed to the wall.
"I'll tell you a secret, okay? Daddy's not a priest…"
Suddenly the air seemed crushing, forcing her to gasp for breath as her heart pounded in her ribs like a panicked animal and lurched like it was trying to dig its way out of her chest.
"Funny, huh? That a person married into a shrine family is better friends with youkai…"
"Daddy…" The word crawled out of her mouth in a near-soundless whine of pain, wept into her knees as she curled up around the source of her pain and tried to will the agony away. "Daddy, come back… I need you…"
"Ka-chan… remember that daddy's always with you. Always…"
The warm touch on her forehead soothed her, and she barely registered a fine-boned knuckle softly brushing her painful tears away, her mind slipping into the depths of oblivion's inky waters.
"…no matter what form I take… I'll always be with you."
----
----
Why had he returned to the miko's shrine?
After the well had refused to open for him once more, even with Inuyasha's unwilling presence, he had gone back to his ancient duties, once more the Ruling Lord of the Western Lands, taking his unruly half-brother with him. Kanna followed because she had no other master, and Shippou for the same reason. The taijiya had stayed behind to protect Inuyasha's former territory, and the changing seasons had eventually carried her away on their inexorable tides, the same fate that every other human fell prey to.
The years had passed, his territory had remained immovable, and Inuyasha had… well, it was too much for even he to expect his feral sibling to regain some semblance of courtly manners in the short span of a few hundred years- his youth had ensured that his nature would forevermore be crass and rough but unswervingly loyal. That last part was all that redeemed Inuyasha in his eyes, but to inuyoukai- who, as a whole, valued loyalty above all else- it was the greatest thing one could hope for, where the half-human pup had failed in all else.
So he had kept his trusted vassals close to him- Jaken was getting on in years, even for a youkai, and toads were not blessed with particularly long lifespans anyway- and tried not to care that he was starting to care for them, even Shippou and Kanna. Out of all the youkai who served him, those two were perhaps the youngest, but their duality bound them together like fire and ice, making them a force to be reckoned with as the years passed and the kitsune grew into his own.
The years passed, slow as a glacier and as fleeting as a heartbeat. The humans grew in strength, cunning and number, forcing the youkai to retreat farther and farther behind barriers of magic as it became apparent that the time of youkai supremacy was over- for a time, at least.
Personally he didn't think the human rule would last more than a thousand years or so- they always managed to fight, breed, or sicken themselves down to a reasonable number over the course of a few centuries- but, instead of following his brethren into their artificially created world to wait out the human era, he chose instead to fade into the human crowds, studying the peoples who had once been his prey. Inuyasha, Shippou, Kanna, and a few of his more loyal (and curious) vassals- including one of Inuyasha's peers, an insufferably brash, rude ookamiyoukai called Kouga- had, according to their proven loyalties, remained to serve him despite the fact that he paid them nothing but recognition for their efforts.
Well, Kouga and Inuyasha hardly served- they usually stayed as far from him as possible- but they had a habit of popping up and offering ill-timed advice when he least desired it, so he shelved them under the caption of 'idiot advisory committee', which was just about all the advisors he'd had up to date. Hmph. Idiots, the lot of them.
In any case, he simply holed himself up as 'the rich eccentric hermit' and let his vassals do as they pleased. Of course, Shippou and Kanna instantly gravitated towards the Higurashi Shrine; they contented themselves with bringing him reports of how the family was getting on, the images flowing through Kanna's mirror, lives condensed into hours of moving pictures.
He watched the humans' lives, and his empty heart ached when Shinta came into them.
Laughing, sad-eyed Shinta, the rootless onmyouji without a last name, the man who carried a tiny two-tailed kitten in his battered bomber jacket, the man who had fallen in love with a younger Takako. The human magic-man who had been dragged back in time, farther back than his daughter had ever fallen, to a time when Sesshoumaru was still a shaggy-haired young pup tugging at the billowing folds of his sire's hakama. The human who had befriended that young pup and his sire, and fallen afoul of the pup's dam in one of the worst ways possible.
The time blinked by in his unhurried solitude while he watched Shinta and his new mate and the tiny bumbling form of the girl-child Shinta had entrusted unto him, reflections on Kanna's mirror and Shippou's excited chatter. The kitsune, upon discovering that the miko had finally been born, had been childishly and outlandishly bouncy ever since- his lord disapproved, as he disapproved of many things in this time, but made no protest except for a grumpy, half-hearted reprimand when the bouncing grew too ecstatic.
So onward the time passed, more quickly now, as he counted the years until Shinta would fall through the well and meet himself.
----
The morning sun was a sweet burn upon his face as the lord once again walked the human lands, albeit in a rather pitiful-looking human form- or at least so it appeared to him. His arm had grown back, among other things; it had returned when he had finally passed the last test and become a taiyoukai like his revered sire. Or perhaps Tenseiga had taken it upon itself to 'help'. Pesky thing, never acting as it should. The gentle mischief of his sire's soul lived on in this blade, just as its fierce loyalty had survived in Tetsusaiga. Toutousai had indeed done a better job than the late Inutaishou might have hoped.
The Shrine had lain open to him, a taiyoukai no less deadly for the lounging kimono he wore- Shinta's footprints were all over this place. Ever skilled, the onmyouji had keyed the shrine's wards to that of ill intent, so Sesshoumaru had free entry- but the well itself was within the shields, which had been Shinta's one unfortunate error.
Tenseiga, hidden along his spine in the thick folds of his overrobe, pulsed softly as he approached the towering tree that had endured throughout centuries of changing time. With as bloodied a history as it had experienced, the lord was vaguely surprised to touch it and sense the tree's spirit sleeping within, as pure as that of an untainted spring's. The presence of the miko and the Shikon no Tama, no doubt. Even a child of her potential, carrying a gem such as that within her body… the purifying aura spread for miles, soothing discontent and keeping the resident energies pure. Probably it was the reason why this was such a crime-free part of Tokyo, he mused to himself as he removed his hand from the Goshinboku.
The scream of a female in labor split the peaceful silence, making him scowl slightly as it shrilled directly into his sensitive ears through layers of wood, brick and shoji. Higurashi's mate had gone into labor, then. He settled his shoulder against the holy tree meditatively, watching the distant wellhouse whilst the female's screams continued. Soon enough, the girl-child came scurrying out before her sire, both eager to escape the messy and potentially dangerous business of childbirth.
He unashamedly feasted his eyes upon the sight of his old friend, and somewhat grudgingly accorded the girl-child the same intense scrutiny. At least she was fairly easy on the eyes, even at that painfully tender age; there was some promise there, hidden under scraped bare knees and tangled dusty hair, of the passably attractive young miko she would become. Certainly the bright blue eyes, a glowing replica of her father's own cerulean gaze, gave no doubt that even should she turn out less than expected, males would be attracted to her by sheer force of personality alone.
Except himself, of course. She was his ward, not a proper youkai female. In any case, he was old enough to be the master of his wants and desires by now, and a dirty little three-year-old was certainly not on his list of attractive females. He dismissed her with a mental sniff and concentrated hard on the well, which was beginning to resonate to his sharp senses like the distant tolling of a warning bell. Predictably, the girl skipped right into the wellhouse, her hassled-looking father in tow. Stupid human.
It happened in a rush of jaki, over within the space of a few breaths, then Shinta's blazing presence disappeared from his range and the little girl-child came running out, crying as the wellhouse filled with incandescent moonshine.
With a sudden, crystalline clarity, he knew why he had returned to the miko's shrine to watch the passing of his friend through the ages.
Tenseiga's gentle pulse throbbed against his spine as he effortlessly slipped behind the fleeing child and swiftly touched a blunted humanoid finger to her bared neck. The spell sank into her like a carefully dropped stone into a still pool, coming to rest quietly until such time as it would be free to do its work and erase the miko's recollection of her sire. Her magic would probably vanish as well- that part of her came not from her shrine lineage but from Shinta's own dubious bloodlines- but a large enough shock, such as the one Inuyasha had recollected to him (of their first meeting), would bring it back again.
The past had already happened.
He slipped from the shrine grounds like one of the wraiths of yore, heading back to his isolated dwelling with all the speed he could muster.
----
Shinta had come and gone, just as he remembered. The years continued their halting march, the miko's destiny unfolding just as it should, completely without further interference from those who already knew what would come to pass. He banned all his companions from frequenting her commune, once she first crossed the barrier between times; a single misstep would be all that was needed to completely wreck centuries of meticulous planning.
And he waited.
Waited until he grew weary of waiting and, one spring evening, ventured out alone and unnoticed, to visit the miko's den while she yet slumbered innocently with the rest of her kin.
Mistake.
The grounds were void of life, but a familiar scent lay fresh upon them, the imprint of a presence that had not been there for years.
Mistake!
He entered the residence with ease, looking around warily for some clue, any clue, of how Shinta's scent could be fresh here, even if Oborezuki had come to find a resting place in this shrine. It only took the faintly glowing mist-figure standing at the top of the stairs to tell him how it could be possible.
The shikigami that Shinta had managed to maintain, even bereft of his human form… it was here, and it had Shinta's face, and spoke with Shinra's voice, and smiled Shinta's smile, gazing at him with Shinta's sad, wise cerulean eyes.
"…no matter what form I take… I'll always be with you."
He leapt easily up the stairs, the shikigami vanishing into mist and shadows as his fingers brushed through it. The girl-child Kagome crouched in the corner where floor met wall, curled up like a crushed insect, the scent of pain and tears strong on her as he knelt to observe her better in the darkness.
It was wrong, somehow, that the miko who had once threatened his very life with bow and arrow should look so… pitiful.
His large hand touched her head as it had done so long ago with Rin, giving some measure of unconscious comfort, causing her to stiffen a little, then relax onto her bent knees. And then the little minx had the audacity to fall asleep in her awkward position, landing him with the incongruous task of getting her safely back to bed where she belonged.
Scowling, he brushed the tears from her face with a gentle knuckle and muttered the one vulgarity that Inuyasha had managed to pass onto him.
"Feh."
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A/N: This is getting confusing, writing from two POVs… and yet it seems a little too cliché to be writing in 'deus ex machina' mode. Bleh… And thanks for all the wonderful reviews- it was a chapter late, but I broke 20 reviews! Hehehe. Much thanks to are-en1- I like reviews like that, masochistic me. And, since everyone was kind enough to review, I'm going to include a thank-you list here, too. See you next chapter, guys!
Kage Bi Koori (I enjoy getting reviews from you although it essentially seems like the same review redux…?)
Raptor – X1
DocBevCulver
fancomingthru (Guess you figured out how to post on ffnet, huh?)
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Clouds of the Sky
Kitsune Kit
are-en1 (C'est la vie, oh well. All authors are greedy- why else do we always write 'R&R pls' somewhere in our chapters? )
darkflame1516 (Another lovely review! Thanks. It's not the grammar I'm worried about though- it's the plot that bothers me, like it isn't turning out quite right… (shrugs))
thatvoiceinyourheadmusicwrter JediK1
Thank you for being supportive of this, my very first Inuyasha fanfic…