Arms of the Kami no Kohakugawa
Yukionna
I don't own Spirited Away. I also don't own Inuyasha.
The snow fell all around the woman, chestnut hair bound in tight spirals swiftly becoming black with water beneath the slowly growing cap of white as snowflakes embrace to form a natural veil on the soon to be bride. The air was beyond chill, beyond cold, but in her entranced state the boiling of her blood did not let her feel it, even as the slowly falling diamonds continued to interlace upon her body, the human woman receiving soft caresses from her soon to be mother, a dragon of distant sea and storm. Beside the moonlight river, the woman was a silent monolith of summertime blue in her elegant silk brocade that she had discovered after her hot shower following her arrival home folded and waiting on the counter in the bathroom.
She knew who had laid it out, and appreciated the thought after such a strangely exhausting day of work. She had fallen asleep during the exorcism, so she really had no reason to be so tired. Yet, she was.
Grey eyes watched as the river danced beneath his sheath of transparent ice, bemused by the mighty power of the small river. Words could not describe the emotions that ran through her empty body, the fine vase that waited patiently to be filled.
The ground was too slick to safely get closer to the riverside today, ice lurking on the rocks beneath the snow. The pool was still accessible, as always. However, she preferred the wild freeness of the river proper, enjoyed his untempered power. The river was who he was, unpredictable and deep, amoral and ambiguous. Chihiro loved his otherness, how he could be warm beneath summer sun or frozen beneath a snowy mantle and yet retain a liquid core.
Violet eyes watched the priestess, having dug their way up from a snowy 'grave' where he had been planted in fun and frustration much earlier when the sun was still out. Safe behind the tree he had crept behind, he felt his heart constrict for the young woman who trained herself so hard, and yet remained convinced that she had no spiritual gift of her own. She never remembered what happened when she was in her trance, and so, she was always convinced that she had merely fallen asleep when they were called on for exorcisms. Careful fingers fiddled with a string of purple beads that he hid under his kimono where they lay around his neck.
The Priestess turned slowly around to head back inside, having bid a good night to the being that held her heart captive. The rising of the moon sparkled on the tears that dotted her cheeks, and Kumiro thought how much like a young widow who had lost her beloved samurai in a war. The cruelest part was that he was right there, in the water, yet unable to be by her side as much as he wished. The two were separated by the worlds that they inhabited, even though they meshed. Their responsibilities held the lovers apart.
It made Kumiro sick.
Looking down at his hand, Kumiro thought about how foolish it was to allow one's duties to interfere with the heart. That same mistake had nearly cost his ancestors everything. The scar in the middle of his palm served as a reminder to enjoy life to the fullest. The curse of the Kazanaa had been lifted generations before, but the memory was embedded in his very DNA. It only made sense, considering the fact that holy powers also tended to run in the family.
As Chihiro slowly made her way back towards the living quarters, Kumiro's eyes were drawn back up by a malicious wave that pulled fallen snow together. The tall woman who formed was arrayed in white, her skin a frostbitten pale blue as twin rubies glared at the human who held the heart of the powerful river spirit. The spirit of a woman who had frozen around 300 years ago if her clothing was an accurate judge, she was obviously filled with hate and jealousy. Gliding after the priestess through the snow, the yukionna raised one arm to send a frozen blast to annihilate the weak human.
The blow never landed. Kumiro had seen in time and had whipped off the beads to fling them at the snow demon. His aim was true, and the woman vanished, pulled into the very beads themselves. These beads had once been worn by the great monk Miroku, who's own ancestor had been cursed by Naraku and who assisted in extermination of the half-demon. So long had they held the curse in check, that after it had been broken they had absorbed the power, and become a pure version of the same weapon. However, this version had no death sentence.
The human maiden continued on her way unaccosted, guardian spirits that had been hiding from her view now drawing closer to her. Even on the Shrine ground, she was not always safe. The problem was that she was so pure mentally and physically that she never sensed when she was in danger.
Kumiro was glad that Nigihayami Kohakunushi had warned him about the uprisings of spirits. Most in the ward did not actively object to the chosen mate of the river dragon being human, although there were a few, like the former yukionna, who had gotten the idea of liquidating the mortal. If she had succeeded, that would have been very bad, not just for the river kami but also for the community.
After all, the shrine keepers served as the kami's physical arms as they tended the community.
Not the end, more will eventually follow.
Yukionna - Snow woman. A type of youkai (demon) made of snow and taking the shape of a beautiful woman. There are several ways that these come to be.
Kazanaa - Air Rip, Void, aka 'big black sucky hole that was in Miroku's hand'