Chapter Four: Guidance from a Cat

Adrift in dark water, Sesshoumaru floated in a sea of emptiness. An unseen chain pierced him through his back, anchoring him as the black tide pushed and pulled. For ages, he hung there, tethered, until even the memories of sunlight faded into the void. Instead, there was only the deep.

Then without warning, the chain snapped. As it fell away into the abyss, he slowly began to rise. The currents carried him up and the water lightened from black to blue. The color was lost on him. His were the eyes of a drowned man.

Then dazzling rays of light penetrated the water, turning into shards of white as the surface approached. He knew it was only the reflecting sunlight, but it promised freedom with edges sharp like knives. With his strength gone, he realized that he couldn't escape it, and so he did what he knew. He surrendered. Through the blades of light, he rose, listening to the sound of chiming glass as he waited to be cut.

Dark gray eyelashes fluttered open, blinking at a blinding world that had been missing for half a millennium.

Sesshoumaru's fingertips sought his eyes, and he rubbed them soothingly until the glare subsided enough to reveal shadows and shapes. Above him was a white ceiling, smooth and clean with a strange contraption hanging from its center. It was a peculiar set of glass tubes suspended by bits of metal with a delicate chain dangling beneath it.

Drawing his attention away, a warm breeze brushed against his cheek, and he looked to its source, an open window. The parted blinds rattled quietly, and beyond them, a tinkling ring stirred up thoughts of knives and an endless sea. A glass windchime hung from the eave, swinging lazily as it sang.

A bubbling purr began to rumble, and he looked down at his chest, realizing that the heaviness he felt wasn't natural. Although it was slow, his sense of feeling was returning. Forepaws tucked under its body, a plump cat lay upon him, its slit eyes regarding him coolly. Then it gave him a welcoming mew.

Feeling defeated by nothing more than an overfed, house pet, he decided to sit up. Sore and clumsy, he strained to shift his weight onto his forearms.

Sensing his struggle, the cat hopped down from its roost to sit on the floor beside him. It gave him a bellowing mew, offering encouragement. Unimpressed by the mentorship, Sesshoumaru summoned his strength and pushed himself up until he finally managed to sit up. With his upper body hunched, he stared at the rumpled futon lying over his legs.

He felt something bump against the hand he had braced against the floor. Looking down, he discovered the cat rubbing against his forearm, pleased by his efforts and clearly believing that its support had been pivotal to his success.

Annoyance brewed in him. After all, it might be right.

Deciding that it was best not to think about it, he examined the strange room. Surrounded by plain walls and a tatami mat floor, the space was simple and rather empty. It smelled of lead paint and old wood.

Then he wrinkled his nose in mild disgust. And it smelled of humans.

The human odors were potent, emanating from sources closer than the walls. Picking up the edge of the futon, he sniffed it lightly. Musty and sweet, it belonged to an old man. Then his fingers felt for the lapel of the yukata robe that wrapped his body. Even though the scent was faded by time, it still bore the faint musk of a young man. The presence of humans was indisputable, but by clothing and caring for him, their intentions were mysterious.

Keen to investigate, he pulled the blanket back, exposing his legs. Although his body was shaky and sore, he gradually felt more in command of it, moving each leg until it responded to his will. When he was ready, he brought his knees up until his feet were under him. Then he pushed forward off his hands, pivoting onto the balls of his feet. Between balanced and wobbling, he maintained a crouch and carefully stood up.

With legs like rubber, he took his first step and stumbled towards the wall. Reaching out with his hand, he landed hard against it with a loud thump. He slid to lean against it, his heart drumming in his chest. For a long while, he stood there, waiting for his pulse to calm down.

As he waited, his fingers drew his attention next. His claws were gone, lost to the passage of time. A once instinctive feat, he concentrated on his youki as he tried to grow them back, but none of his power surged through his veins. Instead, a foreign sensation spoiled in the pit of his stomach, something that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was fear.

He pushed away from the wall. Heading for the rice-paper door, his awkward stride grew steadier as walking became natural again. He slid the door down its track and revealed a hallway. After checking both ways, he entered it quietly and began to follow it towards what he hoped was the exit. His fingertips grazing the wall, he passed by several doors. His stealth however was constantly interrupted by the talkative cat that followed him and its need to announce his arrival.

The hallway ended in a flight of stairs, and he peered down at the floor below. Muffled by the walls, he could hear people talking and music playing. Blurting out a rapid chatter, the voices changed every few moments. One attempted to convince him that by using her soap, he could get his whites whiter and his colors brighter. A strange offering considering that he felt his hair was white enough. Another then asked if he'd like to feel fresher, but what a pad had to do with that was baffling.

Hearing so many voices vending and yelling, he was frozen by hesitation. Without any youki or strength, he was in no shape to confront what could be hundreds of humans. He sniffed the air as he tried to determine their numbers and location. It might still be possible for him to sneak out.

His brow furrowed. Despite all the talking and bartering, he could only detect the scents of two males in the chaos. It didn't make any sense. He sniffed again and was met with the same result. Could they hide their scents and thus mask their numbers? What was the point of that if they were going to make such noise regardless?

Soft and slow, he made his way down the stairs. With one hand on the rail, his other was tightened into a fist. Dull nails grazed his palm, leaving him to wonder if he had the strength to defend himself if it came to that.

His ears perked up. The merchants were silent, their shouts replaced by a woman singing about being lost in love. Bizarre and cheerful, her song was peppered with gibberish, perhaps from a language he hadn't heard before. Then sounding closer than any voice he'd heard yet, an old man began to mutter.

"She's a pretty cute girl," he said, an appreciative tone to his voice, "I like how she shakes her butt."

"Ugh, grandpa," a boy grumbled. "I don't want to hear about what you like again. It makes you sound like some dirty, old man."

"Bah! I don't have much time left, so I ought to enjoy it."

"By looking at girls' butts who are as young as your granddaughter?"

He scoffed. "It's better than looking at old lady butts. They're all wrinkly and saggy."

The boy groaned. "I can't take it anymore. I'm going to get some more tea."

"I want some too," the old man replied. "Take the tray and refill the pot."

"Yes, grandpa."

"And bring back some of those red bean sweets while you're at it."

The boy sighed. "All right."

Tray in hand, the boy came around the corner, his eyes on the floor as he complained under his breath. And when he looked up, he and Sesshoumaru locked eyes. With a loud crash the tray struck the floor, shattering the teapot.

"Oh shit."

"What was that?" the old man yelled from the other room, "Guess I'm not the only one who has a bad habit. You better get those sweets if you don't want me to tell your mother."

Wide-eyed with shock, the boy gawked at Sesshoumaru. Neither moved nor spoke.

"Souta, don't worry about it," the old man yelled again. "I won't tell your mother about your cursing, after all I've said much worse out in the storage shed."

Limping, the daiyoukai began to back away.

"Sesshoumaru," the boy whispered, his voice trembling.

Made uneasy by his knowledge of his name, Sesshoumaru kept moving, edging down the hallway and away from the boy, the old man, the mysterious vendors, and the singing woman.

"Wait," the boy said louder, and he took a step forward.

Fierce and vicious, he growled in reply.

He froze in place and shouted, "Kagome!"

His call for reinforcements wasn't lost on Sesshoumaru, and he fled down the hallway. In no position to fight, he needed to find someplace safe to hide and regain his strength. If they intended to harm him, he would make them regret it soon enough. Until then, he had to figure out where he was and what to do.

Ahead, he noticed bright sunlight diffusing through another rice-paper door, and he smirked.

Behind him, the boy continued to sound the alarm, but he paid him no mind when he stumbled into the door frame. Grabbing the handle, he slid the door open and the summer breeze blew in. There was little that they could do now. He was free.

But as he looked out into the world, for the first time in his life, his jaw dropped.

Behind a paltry veil of trees, a city beyond his imagining hummed. From the vantage point of the hillcrest, he spotted asphalt streets, the tar pungent in the afternoon heat. Bustling across them were giant, metallic beetles, roaring as they went. Massive buildings towered above all of it, and along the skyline, even taller structures reached, their crests mingling with the clouds over head.

Preceded by a bellowing mew, he felt soft fur rub against his calf. Tearing his eyes away from the city, he looked down to see the cat slip past. It hopped out onto the porch and padded down the steps to the ground below. Devoid of surprise or fear, its indifference supplanted Sesshoumaru's astonishment, and he soon followed.

With a hobbling gait, he headed out into the courtyard. There, his gaze roamed over every tree and building as he tried to sort out where he was. An old, iron bell caught his eye and he nodded. He was at a shrine, but that only left him with more questions. It was safe to say that as a youkai lord, he didn't care for them, so to awaken in one was profoundly mystifying. What priest or monk would harbor a youkai rather than purify it?

Turning the corner, he came across an enormous tree. Its branches full and a vivid green, he stared at it, sure that he had seen it somewhere before. Then his eyes brightened as he remembered. Bigger than his memory served, it was the sacred tree, Goshinboku.

Stepping through the gate, he walked up to its trunk and felt the bark with his hand. High up, he spied the elliptical notch left by an arrow in the same place his half-brother had been sealed.

His brow furrowed in thought as Inuyasha's sealing stirred up another memory, one of the young woman who always seemed to be at his side. He referred to her as Kagome, didn't he? Wasn't that the name the boy was yelling earlier?

"Sesshoumaru?" a woman called out, her voice oddly familiar and out of place.

'Are my memories manifesting in reality?' he wondered, closing his eyes. 'Has time degraded my mind this far?' Then he opened them and pivoted on his heel to turn around.

Graced with black hair and gray eyes, it was a memory that awaited him.

"Sesshoumaru, it's me, Kagome."