Amaryllis: The Tragic Fairytale

Chapter Two: Gaze of the Fated

Disclaimer: Based off of the manga Inuyasha by Rumiko Takahashi, and all affiliates. I, myself, have no affiliation with the manga/anime and the like. I make no profit from writing and displaying this.

AN: Warning--fanservice awaits:P

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When Izayoi left the village-wide celebration of her father's birthday that night, she was empty-handed, with her mind full of thoughts of her past as a little girl and her looming future as a daimyo's wife. Never had she expected, as she paid homage to her mother among a field of higanbana flowers just outside the village, that a white dog, the size of any typical large canine, would stumble upon her. She found the creature critically wounded, weak, and bleeding to death. The dog rejected her offers of assistance at first, his will to defend himself much stronger than his body's capability to do so, but somehow, someway, Izayoi managed to gain enough of the dog's trust to help him.

Still wondering how she managed to calm the dog enough to touch him, Izayoi moved slowly through the village to the mansion and her rooms, her arms loaded and her mind blank of nothing but the present situation. She had no idea how she was going to care for this wounded animal, but she felt determined to at least give it a try. She knew her conscience would never forgive her had she just allowed the dog to die alone out in that meadow.

Like any large dog, this creature felt heavy, and the weight of Izayoi's many layered kimonos only added to the burden. She almost staggered across the sanded square in front of her father's mansion, her arms shaking from the weight of her load. Her robes only grew heavier as she felt the warmth of the dog's blood on her clothing spread along her arms and chest.

Despite her exertions, and the rough time she had lifting the dog off the ground earlier, Izayoi felt surprised that he managed to sleep through it all. Still snoozing, his head dangling off the crook of her arm, Izayoi wondered if this deep sleep was natural, or if it was a symptom of a sure death.

Stillness and quiet claimed the entire village. She could detect no warm glow of lanterns in any of the nearby houses, nor could she detect any movement. No doubt everyone had gone to their homes to sleep off the feast, the dancing, and the plentiful sake of the night.

Despite her apparent isolation, Izayoi still moved quickly down the many corridors of her father's mansion, still worried about being spotted. There was always someone patrolling the village in case of intruders, and Izayoi did not feel like explaining why she was up so late carrying a bleeding dog.

Finally, she stopped in front of the door to her room. Shifting the dog's weight in her arms, she freed her hands to enter, closing the door firmly shut behind her.

She could just barely make out her futon mat, already rolled out for her, from what little light that filtered through the rice paper of the door. Carefully, she set the dog down beside it, then moved to the tiny wood stove to light a lantern.

Instantly, warm, dim light filled the room. Izayoi turned and bit her lip, watching blood pool from under the dog, destroying the tatami mats. She felt grateful that she hadn't thought of resting the dog on her bed, for the mattress would have surely been ruined.

Turning back to the stove, she drove her focus into preparation for helping the dog, first by throwing small logs into the woodstove already full of simmering red embers, then preparing a kettle of water and washcloths.

While waiting for the water to boil, she knelt by the dog, biting her lip in reaction to the creature's labored breaths and slight trembling. She eyed the wounds, the dim light making them look worse than when she had last remembered them. Studying each gash worriedly, and the blood that oozed from every one, she wondered how she was going to save this dog. I'll probably have a dead animal by morning. I should have paid more attention to my nanny's teachings about medicine…

Feelings of helplessness tugged at her heart. Izayoi tensed her body, gritted her teeth, determined not to give up on this animal so easily, determined not to succumb to weakness. Standing, she rushed back to the stove, keeping her mind focused on how to clean this dog's wounds instead of the fact that she knew nothing of closing a wound or preventing infection.

She had just gotten a basin ready for hot water when the entire room suddenly brightened. Shadows seemed to jump out from nowhere over the sudden intensity of light. Feeling warmth on her back, Izayoi spun around to find the dog completely engulfed in an orb of light.

Shielding her eyes from the glow's blinding intensity, she watched, squinting from underneath the long, dangling sleeves of her junihito, as the orb of light seemed to twist and contort itself.

Awe-struck, Izayoi stared as the light slowly died away, until it was no longer a silver-furred dog before her eyes, but a naked man. He lay on his side, appearing to look unconscious, with just as many wounds all over his body as the dog had. Long, silvery-white hair, streaked with blood, spilled out from behind him. Sweat beaded his forehead, his face twisted in a look of great pain, his breathing ragged and heavy.

Her mind suddenly numb, Izayoi stared, eyes wide with shock, her hand flying up to cover her gaping mouth. She knew that a dog that changed into a man was not a dog at all. I…I brought a youkai into the village! Fear suddenly gripped her from this realization, as stories of youkai plundering villages and killing everyone in their quake flooded her mind at once. She could hear Takemaru's voice in her head, lecturing her about how dangerous, vile, and evil all youkai were. What have I done? I've put the entire village in danger over sympathy for…for some creature!

Feeling panicked now, her mind filled with the heavy drumming of her rapidly beating heart, Izayoi struggled to clear her thoughts, to correct the situation she had caused, to do something. Finally remembering how to move her legs, she rushed to a large vanity dresser beside her bed. With Takemaru's lecturing voice in her head still, she frantically opened each drawer, desperate to find something, anything, to use as a weapon.

If you see a youkai of any sort, run, she remembered her fiancé saying. She could clearly envision his face, warm brown eyes stern and facial features hardened to seriousness.

If you can't run away, defend yourself in any way you can. Even a wounded youkai, even a seemingly helpless youkai, will kill you if given the chance. She took a quick glance over her shoulder at the creature on the other side of the bed, still motionless on the floor. She eyed the long, sharp claws at the tip of each finger, then managed to tear her gaze away to continue rummaging for a weapon.

Remember, no youkai is ever truly helpless, no youkai is ever truly harmless, and no youkai deserves to live. If we humans don't kill them, they'll most certainly kill us. Izayoi uttered a string of curses under her breath, growing panicked over the sheer uselessness of her possessions in such a situation as this. Various scrolls, blank and otherwise, ink, makeup, hair accessories, and other such things that a noblewoman would own would not protect her from a bloodthirsty youkai. Izayoi's hands dove through each compartment desperately, being not at all quiet as she flung open drawers, slammed cupboard doors, and pushed through the things inside them. Another string of words that should never come out of the mouth of a dainty princess were spoken as Izayoi regretted, for possibly the thousandth time, of deciding to please her father by finally trading her tomboyish ways for a more womanish, domestic lifestyle. Such a choice was beginning to turn out to be not only the death of her, but of her entire village.

Therefore, you must do what you can at all costs to defend yourself against ANY youkai you come across.

"Found it!" Izayoi cried out in her relief, momentarily forgetting that she was sharing a room in the dead of night with a naked youkai man as she held up a small dagger that had been forgotten in the back of one of the drawers. Baring confidence as though she were wielding a massive sword instead of an object almost too dull and tiny to be called a blade of any sort, Izayoi marched up beside her imposter. Gripping the short, gold-plated handle of the so-called weapon with both hands, Izayoi dropped to her knees and raised it above her head; the worn tip of the blade pointed at the youkai, ready to strike.

It was at that point that she hesitated. Izayoi knew that if she didn't kill the youkai with one stab, he would most certainly wake up from her attempt. Though he had lost a lot of blood—Izayoi wondered how he even still had blood in his body to seep from his wounds—she could not afford the risk of this youkai having enough energy to kill her if he woke up. Therefore, I must kill him right away.

Izayoi swallowed, feeling her throat constrict in her anxiety, as she eyed the youkai's body for a place to strike. The obvious choice was his heart, if the blade was even long enough to pierce through the muscle and ribcage guarding it. The youkai was laying on his left side, which made her chances of successfully piercing his heart on first strike much less plausible. Izayoi would have to move him in order to gain enough access to attack his heart. The mere thought that she had carried a youkai in her arms throughout the long walk back to the village from the forest made her stomach churn and her mouth go dry. Touching him at all now, in her fear of being attacked, was not an option. So, where should I strike?

If Izayoi were born a boy, she probably would have known how to properly slay a youkai. She probably wouldn't have been so scared—she may even thrill over the kill. If Izayoi were a boy, she mused, she would have killed this creature back at the meadow, hence never endangering her people. But, she was a sentimental female noblewoman, untrained in the art of combat, and a wreck in such a situation. She closed her eyes, picturing herself failing to kill this youkai, a wounded youkai at that. She imagined the dog-man waking up from his fitful sleep in a rage over being stabbed, then lunge at her, teeth bared, claws drawn, hands outstretched, aiming for her throat…

That's it! Izayoi's eyes flew open at once as hope surged through her. She stared at the youkai's jugular, completely open for the taking. I can tear out his throat! That'll kill him for sure.

Tightening her grip on the dagger so that her knuckles were stark white, Izayoi licked her lips, tensing every muscle in her body in preparation to strike.

Her gaze on his neck wavered over to his face, to the beads of sweat and the expression of agonizing pain. He panted, swallowed, and looked as though he would wake up at any given moment. Certainly, he did not look like someone currently capable of killing anything, let alone her.

Izayoi's sudden doubts brought her memory back to earlier that night, when this man was a wounded dog in the field. She remembered the bold, sure look in that dog's eyes—that familiar look of trust that any dog would give to their loving caretaker. This dog, no this youkai, seemed to trust her with his life, his impending fate. With that single gaze, he had given her permission to try to help him.

Izayoi blinked, swallowed, the dagger shaking in her trembling hands. Her eyes grazed over every cut and bruise on his body, and of the blood that pooled around him. He doesn't look in any condition to harm the village, or me she reasoned.

Takemaru's words of how dangerous youkai were echoed through her mind once more. She licked her lips and shifted her weight so that she was better anchored to the floor, struggling to ignore the feelings of doubt and unease that kept tickling her conscience.

He's bleeding pretty badly, though… Takemaru seemed to argue with her in her mind. Izayoi knew that the logical choice would be to kill this youkai. Her duty as a noblewoman, as part of the ruling family over this village, demanded that she eliminate all potential danger to her people. But she could not shake from her mind the dog's trusting gaze of earlier. He entrusted his life onto me. He expects me to save him. If he really wanted to kill me, he would have done so by now. But he didn't. He didn't…

Cursing once more, but this time out loud, Izayoi dropped the dagger, the object landing harmlessly on the floor beside her.

Pushing aside as best as she could all restraining fear for this being, Izayoi at once leaned forward, pressing her hands on the youkai's shoulders as she eased him gently onto his back.

Tucking as much hair behind her ears as she could, Izayoi hunched over him, peering at the many wounds on his arms and legs. Without the dog hair, the wounds looked much deeper and more serious than before. Izayoi bit her lip, wondering how she was going to treat such cuts.

Deciding that doing something was better than nothing at all, Izayoi stood up and moved towards the wood stove. She stripped off her heavy and soiled layered robes, leaving her only in her dark red kimono and dark blue hakama, both stained with blood.

With hands shaking and a mind spinning in concentration over how to stop this youkai's bleeding, Izayoi filled a basin with the water boiling in the kettle on the stove. Grabbing a nearby washcloth, she returned with the basin to the youkai's side. Kneeling over him once more, she dipped the cloth in the water, then gently dabbed at one of the slash wounds on his chest, hoping that a simple wiping away of the blood would be enough.

More blood pooled over the area as fast as she would mop it up. Izayoi bit her lip and paused, realizing that she was accomplishing nothing with this. The blood just won't stop… She dipped the washcloth in the water, the liquid instantly turning a light shade of pink from the blood, wrung the excess water, then pressed the cloth firmly on one of the wounds on the youkai's chest.

Izayoi's mind scanned frantically through the many memories of her nanny caring for the sick and wounded in her village, of all the soldiers that would come home from some battle in need of care. She remembered watching the old woman tie clean bandages tightly around the open, gushing wounds of soldiers on many an occasion to help slow the bleeding...

A new wave of energy surging through her body, Izayoi shot to her feet. She rushed over to her closets, flinging them all open. Her available wardrobe was sparse; her nanny had no time to clean all of Izayoi's soiled laundry, so busy with tending to the arrival of Takemaru and his large, assorted band of followers. All she had left was another set of layered kimono, all made of silk, and a few plain, white yukatas to wear to sleep. All of the actual bandages were in her nanny's room; Izayoi could not risk waking the woman up and letting her know of the youkai in her room.

Not even giving herself time to think, Izayoi grabbed all the clean yukatas she had left, rushing back to the youkai's side. With aid of her teeth and the dull dagger, she cut the clothing into long strips, then set to work cleaning and bandaging the more serious wounds around the youkai's arms and legs. She then focused on tying strips of cloth together so that she had long enough "bandages" to wrap around the youkai's torso to cover the wounds on his chest. She worked as fast as she could, pausing only long enough to occasionally wipe sweat off her brow.

It was while eyeing one of the more serious wounds on the youkai's chest, while prepping strips of cloth, that Izayoi noticed that it was not seeping nearly as much blood as earlier. Alarmed and curious at the same time, wondering if this creature had finally bled himself to death, Izayoi leaned over him, wiping as much blood from the wound as she could to see into it.

The cut was deep and wide, and she could easily identify the layer of skin, the severed muscle, and the many cut blood vessels on either side of the wound. Fresh blood began to pool at the bottom of the cut.

Izayoi, however, did not expect such a serious cut to actually perform a remarkable feat. Her breath caught in her throat as she watched tiny threads of muscle on either side of the wound wiggle to the center and join, merging into one continuous link of flesh. The largest cleaved blood vessel, surely an artery, stretched to the center as though magnets were attached to either end, then stuck together and sealed itself.

Izayoi glanced up at the youkai's face; though he still held a tight expression of pain, he was now sweating less and he looked a little more relaxed.

Izayoi leaned back, allowing the relief to flood through her, relaxing her entire body. What a remarkable healing ability! He's gonna be ok…

The rest of the night looked much more optimistic than a moment ago. Izayoi engaged in the task of lazily wiping down the youkai's body of excess soil and dried blood on his skin. While cleaning his neck and shoulders, Izayoi finally allowed herself the chance of taking a good look at the creature before her, her mind too focused earlier on his wounds to even really know what she was looking at. Her eyes followed the contours of his body, of all the smooth, corded muscle on such a tall, lithe frame, and marveled over how human this youkai looked. It was only when her eyes continued to travel down his body that she realized that he was also naked.

Feeling her face grow hot, Izayoi turned her whole body away, covering her face as she waited for the overbearing feeling of awkward embarrassment to subside. Keeping her eyes glued to the floor, she moved behind his head in preparation for moving the youkai onto her bed…the naked youkai, who currently looked very human, onto her bed. Never been with, or even really seen a naked man before, Izayoi found the situation to be very strange and shameful, and not at all arousing. Still, she could not expect this youkai to recover on blood-stained tatami mats, and she had no spare beds in the room.

Always averting her gaze, Izayoi hooked her arms under the youkai's shoulders, then scooted his upper body, surprisingly heavy, onto the futon beside him. She then moved to his feet. Her face beet red now, she grasped his ankles and, not daring to look ahead, pivoted his lower body onto the bed. It was only after she draped her heavy blanket over his body up to his shoulders did she allow herself to look at him again.

Izayoi covered the bloodstain on the floor as best as she could with dampened cloth, then cleaned up all the mess she made around her room. Yawning, the fading adrenaline leaving her whole body drained, Izayoi settled herself in a comfortable sitting position beside the youkai, her back leaning against the wall. She studied him in silence for a while, as he motionlessly and silently slept, her mind returning to her thoughts of how astonishingly human he looked.

Curiosity taking the edge off her fatigue, Izayoi scooted closer, wanting to know how different this dog man really was from humans.

She remembered his long fingernails, so claw-like, and how they easily shredded one of her washcloths when she had tried to clean his fingers. She gently pulled one of his hands out from under the blanket, raising the palm to her face. She rubbed her fingertips on his nails, marveling at how very firm and strong they felt, then traced the edges of each nail to their sharp tips. Izayoi gasped and winced, one of the nails leaving a small, neat cut on her index finger.

Muttering curses under her breath, Izayoi lightly sucked on her wounded finger as she set the youkai's hand down and leaned forward for a closer examination of his face.

She reached out and touched his hair, so long and a glistening silvery-white, and marveled at the softness of it, as though touching strands of silk. She caught a faint aroma from his hair, and was surprised that it smelled nothing like blood, sweat, or even like a dog. He smelled like rain--like damp earth before a rainstorm, or as though he lived in a cloud.

Her fingertips traced the unique, pointed shape of one of his ears, one of the main features that set this creature apart from humans.

Izayoi delicately pushed back his bangs with her fingers, studying his face. He held no features of a dog, and was very pleasing to the eyes to boot. She giggled softly over his bushy eyebrows, so dark compared to his pale hair, and attempted to gently smooth them out with a fingertip. The eyebrows, somehow, did not detract from his attractiveness.

She dragged her finger down the bridge of his nose, then traced his lips, slightly parted. She stared at what little that she could see of his fangs, then averted her gaze to the jagged, bluish slash-mark on either side of his face.

She squinted at the marks, leaning in so that her face was only inches from his, and touched one side of his face. They did not look like tattoos, from the way the color of the markings blended into the color of his skin so fluidly, and they were not scars, evident by the smoothness of the skin as she dragged a finger down the side of his face, along one of the marks.

It was then that the youkai opened his eyes.

This took Izayoi by surprise. She gasped, recoiled, and jerked her hand away as though she had touched fire. Eyes wide, her breath quickened, Izayoi noiselessly panicked, wondering what she should do now that the youkai was awake.

But upon a closer look at him, she realized that though the youkai was looking in her direction, he wasn't looking at her. His eyes were glazed over, his gaze distant, as though he were daydreaming.

Izayoi swallowed, calming down a bit, but still a little on edge as she stared.

They locked eyes, Izayoi suddenly captivated by his gaze. Even in the dim light, she clearly noticed the intense golden-yellow color of his eyes. So intense, they seemed to pierce right through her to her very soul. His gaze gave her the impression of a wise man seasoned with the trials of life, and perhaps he may even be a kind youkai, if such a being existed.

Then as fast as it had started, the youkai's eyes were closed again. He grimaced, gritted his teeth, the expression of pain returned to his face. He rolled his head from side to side, sweat once again beading his face.

Alarmed, Izayoi ran her eyes over him, wondering frantically what to do, and why his condition had suddenly changed. She drew the blanket up to under his chin and placed a cool, damp washcloth on his forehead. Izayoi bit her lip, watching the youkai grimace in pain, hearing his labored breathing, and knowing that she could do nothing more, that she was helpless.

She hated feeling helpless. Nevertheless, all she could do now was remain by his side.

Izayoi took one of his hands in hers, squeezing it firmly in her grip. I promise, she thought to herself, that even if I can't take care of you the way a proper nurse would, that I will at least stay by your side for as long as it takes, and to stay awake, so that at least…at least you won't have to be alone.

And as though he had read her thoughts, the youkai squeezed her hand, causing Izayoi to jump. However, the youkai's eyes were closed, his head turned away, showing no signs of acknowledging her presence.

Izayoi kept her promise, keeping vigil by his side throughout the rest of the very long night.