Disclaimer: I do not make any money off any of this story, let alone the characters that are associated with Inuyasha.
Author's Note: Wow… DemonSlayer205… I'm incredibly honored that you would spend so much time on a review for my story. It was really incredible, with constructive criticism abounding (though I liked the undeserved compliments as well). Not that I'm asking you other guys to imitate that; I would never expect anyone to give me such a long, detailed review. But they are super nice to get.
Anyway, as I think all of my reviewers mentioned it, it's only fair that I explain to you the final sequence in the last chapter. You see, a long time ago, when I was new to writing, I used to write such sequences in italics, or completely separate them from the text in general. But now, I like just weaving them through the prose. Why? Because I think that's how flashbacks and overly vivid memories actually take place. In all of my experiences (non drug-related I assure you ;-) ), flashbacks are so confusing when they happen that you're not even sure whether you're there or not. And especially in a case like Sango's, where she was captured and woke up slowly surrounded by a dream, the line between reality and what she was experiencing would have been thin.
So, I hope that explains a few things for you.
Now for this chapter. I wrote it this weekend at my sister's house, somewhere between watching my nieces, doing dishes, going to a wedding and TWO receptions, visiting colleges, and constant car trips. So, please excuse any type-o's or awkward sentences you come across.
Until next time, enjoy this chapter! ;-)
Translations:
Oneesama (oh-NEE-sahmah): A very respectful term for one's older sister.
Chapter 25, Incursion in the PalaceFumihiko could tell that there was something going on the minute he stepped into the shadowy confinements of his home. For one thing, his wife was not there to greet him. For another, there was neither fire nor any signs of cooking. And lastly, there were the strong hands pulling him from the doorway into the shadows.
He tried to struggle, but the trammel was too tight. Not even his scream could slip past the gag that his captor skillfully shoved into his mouth. The next thing Fumihiko knew, there was movement in front of him. The screens shifted in the breeze, causing the sunlight to pour over the woman that now stood before him, her hips cocked at a seductive angle. Her icy eyes mirrored the coy smirk on her face.
They were the last things he saw before he lost consciousness.
(-)
Fumihiko awoke to the sound of raised voices. One belonged to an angry male that sounded undeniably like Kyoden-sama. The other voice spoke in a lilting feminine tone. The poor man wondered whether he had strayed to a place beyond the grave, and was now in the presence of his prince.
"You did what!" the Kyoden-person demanded.
"It was just a conk on the head," the woman soothed. "He's probably already awake." There was the shuffle of feet, and Fumihiko realized that the two people were walking towards him.
"It was, nevertheless, completely unnecessary. If you were worried about getting the wrong man, you could have just blindfolded him before bringing him to me," the Kyoden-person continued.
"If we had just blindfolded, sweets, he would have thrashed about." The footsteps stopped, and two silky hands cupped Fumihiko's face. Then, she ripped the cloth covering Fumihiko's eyes away, and removed his gag.
Once again, Fumihiko was staring into those grinning icy blue eyes. But then, the woman moved aside so that Fumihiko could look up into the half-shadowed figure that undeniably belonged to the Takara bloodline. "K-Kyoden oji?" Fumihiko stuttered, confused.
The figure knelt immediately, so that a stream of the dying light fell across his face. "Fumihiko," Miroku breathed, "It's me."
"Miroku oji!" Fumihiko exclaimed, his heart leaping into his throat in joy-filled surprise. He paused and considered the area where they stood. They were in a small clearing in a forest. He could make out the walls of the city through the gaps in the boughs overhead. A run-down hut stood at the edge of the clearing. A swordsman with a covered face and a dangerous-looking woman leaned against the side of the hut. A young boy of about eleven was throwing kunai at a butterfly, calculating each throw so that they missed the butterfly's fragile wings by a hair.
"So then…" whispered Fumihiko. "I'm not dead?"
This caused Miroku to laugh and clap his personal servant on the shoulder. "No," he chuckled. "Not yet anyway."
Fumihiko answered with a nervous chuckle of his own, while the female burst into very feminine, bell-like laughter. She immediately introduced herself as Scarlet, miko of the North. Fumihiko blushed as she requested that he refer to her, at the most, as Scarlet-san. She proceeded to introduce the blind swordsman Jou, his incredibly strong older sister Yu, and their rambunctious younger brother Ton.
The introductions complete, Miroku took Fumihiko by the shoulders and guided him into the woods. Once they were out of earshot, Miroku faced Fumihiko, grabbed his hand, and proceed to place his forehead into his servant's palm. Fumihiko balked and snatched his hand away, but Miroku only remedied this by falling to his knees.
"Fumihiko, you have always proved yourself to be a good and honorable man. You have attended me for a good many years, and have done me many great services. But now, my dear friend, I have the greatest service to ask of you. I ask that you complete the code you were sworn in under, and place your very own life on the line for my very selfish purposes. There is a girl, Fumihiko, an upright lady of the Kawate family, Sango-san, who has been captured and taken to the palace. I must save her, or not only will my father's kingdom suffer, but my very own heart will wither up and die. Only you can guide my friends and I safely through the palace, for you are the only servant I can trust with so dire a task." He took the hem of his servant's hakama and kissed it before whispering, "Will you do this for me?"
Miroku was known throughout his father's fiefs as being a man of passion and vigor. He had the reputation of being one of the most powerful speakers in the whole history of their realm. After hearing him speak, people returned to their families with stories of how the young prince took words and weaved them into elegant, snaking phrases that dove into his audience's hearts and held them spellbound. Fumihiko, who had never heard his master speak in anything but the very most informal, and sometimes even crude sentences, had always mentally chortled at this praise. But now, as Miroku prostrated himself before his servant and begged Fumihiko to help him save the woman he loved, tears were pouring from Fumihiko's eyes.
Miroku risked a glance at Fumihiko's face, and was astounded by the tears he saw there. Then, Fumihiko threw himself into the lowest bow he could manage, so that Miroku straightened in surprise.
"Miroku oji," he whispered in what could barely be considered a whisper. "It would be an honor."
(-)
They left the camp that night, slipping through the forest on cats' feet. It was the night of the new moon, so only the torches burning on the walls high above lit their way. The air hummed with anticipation as they jogged onward, crouching low against detection from the guards above.
Fumihiko stopped at the bottom of the wall and pushed hard. A door opened, and the six companions crept through. Scarlet lit a bit of tinder with her purple flame and handed it to Fumihiko. He gave it a disapproving glance, but continued without comment. They traveled down a long tunnel, until Fumihiko finally stopped. The corridor continued ahead of them, but Fumihiko was looking at the ceiling. Then, in a decisive movement, he threw a fist into the ceiling, causing a trapdoor to swing open. Ton jumped out and returned with a rope ladder. They climbed out.
They were in a storage room. Miroku, recognizing the smell of his home at once, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. But Fumihiko was already beckoning them through a screen door. They entered another room, this one bare but for an altar at the far end. A small stick of incense burned on the altar, filling the space with its heady scent.
Fumihiko followed Miroku's questioning gaze to the altar before quickly looking away. "For Kyoden oji," he muttered.
Cold fingers coiled around Miroku's heart, but he only nodded stiffly. Scarlet, seeming to sense the prince's sudden pain, slipped her hand into his. Miroku did not remove his hand, but rather squeezed hers gently.
"Where will the princess be?" Fumihiko asked.
"The grand hall," Miroku answered at once. He wasn't sure how, but instinctively he knew it to be true.
"Yes," Yu agreed. "Naraku will want to make a spectacle of defeating the prince. He'll have her in the grand hall, so that his father and his father's servants can see Miroku-sama fall."
"Not that he will," Scarlet inserted, shooting Yu a glare as cold as death.
"Of course not," Yu agreed, her words oozing with sarcastic venom.
Jou stepped between them just in time to start a full-blown fight. "Lead the way, Fumihiko," he said.
"A moment," Miroku whispered, suddenly filled with urgency. The next thing he did seemed strange even to him. He walked across the room as if floating on air, and stopped before his brother's altar. He unclipped his brother's sword and knelt with it held before him, his head bowed as if in prayer. Then, he took the sword and whipped it through the air, snipping off the very tip of the incense. The katana seemed to glow with an ethereal light.
Miroku looked at his own reflection in the shining surface, and was terrified and awe-stricken by what he saw. Except for his amethyst eyes, he was the very image of Kyoden. Over the months, he had grown from adolescence to manhood, and the distinction was striking. His cheekbones were more pronounced, his chin a definite, strong feature. His brow had lowered to become the brow of a warrior.
It was incredible to see his mother's gentle, sad eyes glimmering out of the depths of a face that so undeniably belonged to his brother.
Then, Scarlet was beside him, tugging at his arm. "Hayaku, Miroku! There are voices!"
They moved with shocking swiftness and stealth. Fumihiko led them through a series of twisting corridors that flashed unevenly in front of Miroku's eyes. They saw no one, and heard no more voices. Finally, Fumihiko called them to a halt in front of a screen. Golden light burned through the rice paper, bathing the party in an eerie green glow. Not a sound seeped through the doors.
"The grand hall is on the other side," Fumihiko informed them.
Miroku nodded. "You may return to your home now, Fumihiko. I believe your wife will be worried."
Fumihiko smiled bitterly. "Miroku oji, if I did not have a wife to comfort, which thank gods I do, I would follow you even into this danger."
Miroku placed a bracing hand on his servant's shoulder. The smile he flashed him was warm and filled with gratitude. "As I said before, Fumihiko, you're a great man. Arigato."
Fumihiko flushed darkly. "Iie," he muttered modestly, "It really was nothing." He started to leave quickly before Miroku could insist, but turned back once more to catch the prince's eyes. "Good luck, Miroku oji." With that, he ran off and disappeared around a corner.
Miroku and Scarlet exchanged a glance. "You guys don't have to come, you know."
Jou lifted the fabric free from his face to show his scarred, useless eyes and taunting grin. "Miroku, I wouldn't miss this for the world." Ton leapt onto his brother's shoulder. Scarlet strung a bow Miroku hadn't a clue where she'd gotten, and knocked an arrow. A small orb of purple light formed around the arrowhead.
Everyone looked at Yu.
"How about a grand entrance, oneesama?" Jou suggested.
For the first time since he had known her, Yu smiled. "My pleasure." She rolled up the sleeve of her kimono and sent a fist flying through the wall. It shattered instantly into a cloud of sawdust, choking the air for a few moments.
When the smoke cleared, they were in the grand hall.
- Ichimu