Chapter Forty-Six: Reconciling the Past
Melding with the pine of the surrounding forest, the pungent scent of linseed oil flooded the air, swelling anew every time e tipped its bottle to dribble some more onto her rag. With her hands working quickly, she rubbed the solution over the honey-colored railing, spreading the polish thin so that the woodwork shined but remained dry to the touch. And while she hadn't seen Sesshoumaru since they cleaned up breakfast together earlier in the morning, she felt that he'd be subtly pleased with her work.
After a few more dribbles, the walkway railing ended with the warm glow of a rice-paper window. Leaning against its frame was an old dust mop, the paint on it wooden handle worn bare from use. Balancing the rag over the cap of the bottle, she set the wood oil down and took up the mop. The years of helping her mother clean their family home came in handy as she pushed it down the walkway, collecting detritus as she went.
The swirling youkai murals flowed past her as she swept and her attention on her work started to slip. Lumbering ogres with odd numbered eyes and tangled centipedes weaving between trees, the artwork burst with bold colors and lines as though the paint hadn't yet dried. As though with just a bit of imagination, they could leap from the panels and the world would be rich with their kind again.
"They're only murals, dear," a voice spoke up as warm and dry as the polished wood.
Kagome gasped and the dust mop handle rattled as it struck the floor. Looking over her shoulder, she spied Bikini Girl leaning comfortably against the railing, a sly smile hinting at her lips. "Oh, I didn't hear you!"
"I'm not surprised," she replied. "I know every creak in this shrine and there aren't many."
"I suppose there wouldn't be," she agreed and then bent down to pick up the mop handle. "It's a beautiful shrine. And I must say having lived someplace almost as ancient, that while Totousai may have built the perfect home, it takes generations of care to keep it that way. I think he'd be very happy to know that his descendants valued his work enough to maintain it for so long."
A genuine quality affected her smile and she nodded in appreciation. "Thank you. My family is honored by your compliment."
Her attention drifted back to the murals and she shook her head in disbelief. "These murals alone are exquisite. I've seen a lot of youkai art and they always seem off. A little too inventive. Like scientists imagining what a prehistoric animal looked like from nothing more than its bones. Their guessing seems a bit ridiculous when you've seen them in person. When you've known them."
"Sounds like you miss them," Bikini Girl noted.
"I think before coming here, I missed people, both humans and youkai alike. People that I loved. Still love. I didn't think that I missed the world, too. That I'd see these bright colors and realize how dull the modern times are without them."
"I'd wager that they're not too dull these days. Afterall, not every youkai has gone extinct."
Kagome smiled gently and began to maneuver the mop, toying with the dust pile she had gathered. "Definitely not too dull now." She snorted under her breath. "A year ago, if anyone had told me what a day in my life would be like now, especially given who's at the center of it most of the time, I wouldn't have believed them."
Her sly smile returned. "You, a teenage girl who once travelled back and forth through time to Feudal Japan, wouldn't believe your current circumstances? Are you really living a life more farfetched than what you had before?"
"I guess it sounds ridiculous considering what I've been through since I fell through the well the first time and when it comes to my purpose, even though it's the present day, the stakes feel the same. Dire but not hopeless."
"Then what's different?"
A sigh escaped her. "The only thing that's truly different I suppose is the man at the center of it all."
"My disciple."
"Yeah," Kagome replied, and she started to nudge the dust pile into a new shape. "Before, I couldn't even conceive of him as a friend. At best, he was a reluctant ally and at worst, he tried to melt me with acidic youki once. He and Inuyasha were half-brothers, but to be honest I never saw the resemblance. Sure, they both had gold eyes and their hair was kind of similar in color, but beyond that, they were worlds apart."
"Inuyasha?"
"He was a hanyou. He and Sesshoumaru were family through their father who had bequeathed them a pair of swords forged by Totousai. They constantly fought over the swords, but it was pretty clear from the beginning that only one of them had been unhappy with their inheritance."
"A daiyoukai always demands more," Bikini Girl remarked with a smirk. "Perfection to his own lofty standards."
"You're probably right," she agreed, "Those fights left me with a strong impression of who Sesshoumaru was as a person. To the point that when I found him sealed a year ago, I was tempted to leave him lost to time. Callous. Cruel. Resentful. Entitled. Classist. These were all flaws that he embodied. Flaws that alienated him from his family. Even cost him his left arm for a time. But now…"
She looked at her expectantly.
"Now, they have so much in common that I can't help but see their resemblance. Sure, the finer details are different, but their compassion for others and their loyalty to the important people in their lives are undeniable. They're both heroes. Brothers who'd risk their lives for the greater good because it's the right thing to do. I admire them."
With a sparkle in her eye, Bikini Girl chuckled.
"What?"
"I'm certain that your feelings go well beyond admiration, my dear."
Rosiness highlighted Kagome's cheeks. "No, you have the wrong idea. Completely the wrong idea. I don't feel that way about Sesshoumaru at all."
"Uh-huh," she replied skeptically.
"And I—" she stuttered, changing tactics, "And I can't love him, because my heart belongs to someone else. It wouldn't be fair to him."
"And where is that someone who keeps your heart?"
Kagome looked down at the pile on the floor. A single, silver hair lay entwined in the detritus and she thought about her spacious room and its scant furniture layered in dust. Remnants of the past.
Bikini Girl waited patiently.
"He's frozen in time, five hundred years ago," she admitted softly. "There, he's peering into the dry well, waiting for me to return."
"A heart isn't meant to be entrusted to the past. Like you said, the past is frozen. Static. To abandon your heart there is to abandon it in a tomb."
"And if the well opens again and I choose to return to the past to play this role Sesshoumaru remembers me taking, what then?"
She smiled. "Then this world becomes your new past and you take your heart with you."
Kagome snorted. "You make it sound like I'm some sort of vagabond migrating to new places."
"You might be," Bikini Girl laughed. "Your path exists beyond the currents of time and you, more than anyone, know what it means to lead multiple lives with only your memories and connections to others as the through line of your story."
"I never thought about it like that."
"No one else has led the life that you have," she assured before turning to spy down at the first floor below. Leaning heavily on his broom, Grandpa slowly swept the entryway clean, a playful hitch in his step and a hum on his lips. "But many have learned to carry their hearts with them when they realize that it's time to move on. When who and what they love are nothing more than memories and they've found something new to give it to."
Kagome spied over the railing at him and smiled. "I haven't seen him this happy in a long time."
"Well, I'm sure he'll be even happier later."
Her face soured. "Ugh, I didn't need to know that."
A laugh erupted from her and the long, gray curls that framed her face shook. "You should be happy for your grandfather and his ability to still get it."
"Stop," she pleaded. "How did we even get on this topic?"
With her laughter sobering to a smile, Bikini Girl pushed off the railing and approached one of the murals. Embedded in the panel was a handle and when she pulled on it, a hidden door slid open, revealing a room. Strewn in haphazard piles, the space was thick with scrolls and tomes, each faded and fuzzy by layers of dust and cobwebs. Inlaid in the walls were long rows of shelving half filled with leaning books, and below them velvet-lined drawers jutted open, their contents missing.
"Wow," Kagome murmured as she peered in.
"All our talk about the past being a tomb has a certain literal slant here," she commented as she entered the library, her bare feet leaving prints on the floor as she walked. "Despite making my living as a guidebook author, I haven't spent much time or effort in here. At my age, preserving the grounds consumes most of my energy. But the purpose behind this place, the real reason why my family line cares for this shrine isn't because it's dedicated to a god. Or even to Totousai. It's because of what lies in this library. It's here that you'll find all that remains of youkaikind."
Setting the broom against the railing, she stepped through the threshold to join her. With wordless reverence, she explored the room, poring over each pile of literature as if they were exhibits in a museum. "It's amazing," she whispered.
"It's a mess," Bikini Girl replied, blowing out a breath. "I have an idiot nephew who once fancied himself a fantasy writer to blame for this. He's since been banned."
Kagome smirked as she ran her finger along one of the shelves, revealing the glossy wood finish beneath. "Is this your price?"
She raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"If I clean up this library, then I can read and research whatever I like?"
Another laugh burst from her. "No, my dear. You can read and research whatever you like here without qualification. There's no price attached. Or test as is the case for my disciple. No one has deserved the knowledge archived here more than you and I would dishonor my ancestors if I forced you to clean it up before granting you access." Then she gave her an impish look. "But if you happened to leave it in better shape than you found it, I'd appreciate it."
Her smile broadened into a grin. "I think I can manage that."
"Thank you," she said, nodding a polite bow. Then her mouth gaped open slightly, waiting for words that were uncharacteristically failing her. "Just understand that… That if your path really does weave its way back to the Sengoku Jidai again, being a witness for the end of a race isn't an easy fate. What you discover here may make that future even harder to bear."
"Maybe," Kagome agreed before picking up a set of leather-bound books and setting them upright on a shelf. "After so many years sealed, I'm not sure if it's me that Sesshoumaru remembers from the past. But if I really do return to that world and there's a tidbit of knowledge here that could make a difference, then it's my duty to find it. And maybe, all that's left of youkaikind will be more than some old books secreted away in a mountain shrine."
"I hope so, my dear. I hope so."
OOOOOOOOOO
With a carpenter's pencil behind his ear, Sesshoumaru stared at the lump of aspen held fast in a vise on the table in front of him. Light in color and the size of a shoebox, he had begun to transform the once simple block of wood, contouring its shape and hollowing it out on one side. Earlier, when he had come in search for tools to fix one of the pagoda eaves, he'd discovered it. Seen it neglected on a shelf in the shrine's shop. He had made a mental note to come back for it, because in its beautiful grain, he'd also seen its potential, its purpose, and something that he needed.
From chisels to files, a collection of woodworking tools lay in a neat row beside his project, organized by size and type. His hand hovered over them as he considered each carefully. Then with a slight nod, he picked up a file and set to work. Wood dust sprinkled the table.
With practiced ease, he switched between tools as he slowly revealed the face hidden in the wood. He exposed its snarling maw and angry brow. He found the reflection that he missed. The one that had called to him from the shrine mural.
And as he spun the handle on the vise to loosen its jaws on the half-finished mask, he heard the soft footsteps of someone approaching. If he hadn't possessed exceptional hearing, he wouldn't have heard her at all, a testament to her skill.
"What are you up to?" Bikini Girl asked as she leaned inside the shop's doorway, her arms crossed against her chest and a book in her hand.
Raising an eyebrow, he spied back at her, regarding her briefly before looking to his hand and the mask it held. "I finished your task list sooner than anticipated," he explained, "I decided that, with the remaining time, I would work to regain something important that was lost to me recently."
"Ah," she cooed, then stepped into the shop. With her lips pursed, she walked towards him, her attention on the mask.
He held it out for her to inspect.
"Exceptional work as expected," she remarked as she peered down at it. "Your craft is fast and clean while still maintaining the utmost quality. If you were human, I'd be envious."
He snorted. "It's your instruction that has guided my skill. You'd only be envying yourself."
She laughed heartily. "You have a very backhanded way of conferring compliments, disciple. The truth is that teaching the proper methods for a craft and having the innate talent of executing them to perfection can be mutually exclusive. And I need not mention that your ability to innovate and improve upon that guidance is yet another quality worthy of envy."
He gave her a fleeting smirk.
And she mirrored it in kind.
He took the mask and placed it back in the vise, tightening the jaws until it gripped it firmly. "Given how simple this project is compared to the tasks that you assigned to me earlier, I had expected that you would be more interested in its subject than in its execution."
"I am," she agreed. "But sometimes I like to start with praise."
Taking up the file, he began his work on the unfinished half.
"Why a mask?" she asked bluntly.
"It's my symbol," he explained, appreciating her straightforwardness. "A reminder of who I was and an attempt to recapture my past glory. At first, I wore it to protect my identity and thus spare my new family from an enemy's retribution. However, now I wear it as a promise. As a connection that binds me to the community that I protect. They call me the Demon of Namidabashi and this is the face of their hero. Their guardian."
"It hasn't always been the face of a hero."
His file paused and he replied thoughtfully, "No, it hasn't. But that's the nature of symbols. They're designed to be evaluated, broken down, and remade."
"And the same goes for a daiyoukai who failed to serve his people?"
"Perhaps." He rolled the file back and forth in his hand, then turned to face her. "Everyday is an opportunity to learn. To rethink one's perceptions. To recognize an old act of foolishness and cruelty."
She looked at him expectantly.
"It was my long-held belief that power and respect within youkai social hierarchies were fair, because they were based on what I understood as a natural order. That all species were meant to serve those more powerful than themselves. So as a daiyoukai, I demanded their service, but it's only now that I realize that they were never meant to provide for me. That I, as a lord, was meant to provide for them.
"Being here has made that revelation a reality. To see the efforts that Totousai made to protect his family from men like myself and to face the truth that what I considered tribute to my station in the past was not willingly given. That I didn't deserve what I considered mine.
"As I'm unable to apologize to the man himself, I will instead express my regret to you, his descendant both in blood and in craft. I did him many disservices during his lifetime and I intend to make amends through supporting this shrine, but also by embracing my role as the guardian that I should have been. It's my hope that this vow will be to your satisfaction."
She chuckled under her breath. "You are easily the most low-effort disciple a master could ever ask for. All I must do is stand in a room and you teach yourself."
He shrugged.
"I accept your apology. I imagine Totousai would be immensely honored by your vow."
"He would more likely be immensely shocked."
"Probably so," she laughed, then her expression softened to a smile and she considered the ancient book in her hand. Bound on the right-hand side by a cord of sinew, it was thick with yellowed pages and protected by an old, leather cover. Stamped in gold, the front read:
Totousai's Basic Guide to Enchanted Weaponsmithing
With a nod, she held the book out to him. "You've proven yourself worthy, in craft, in deeds, and in spirit. I can think of no one, even within my own family line, who's shown that they're more deserving of this knowledge than you, Sesshoumaru. I hope that within its pages you'll find the power that you need to protect the people and the community that you love."
Setting the file down, he approached her and the book, and with polite reverence, he accepted her gift and bowed.
She reflected his gesture, bowing in return.
Mindful of its age, he opened the book carefully and slowly flipped through its pages. His fingers reveled in the feel of real, handcrafted paper and his eyes slowly adjusted to the writing that had poured from a hand and not from a machine. While Totousai's talent for weaponsmithing was undeniable, his penmanship was severely lacking. A smile hinted at his lips. He hadn't expected to find joy in imperfection, but in a world where the impeccable is often manufactured, the awful scrawling was refreshing to behold.
His skimming eyes stopped, and he flipped back and forth between several of the pages.
"What is it?" she asked.
He held the book out for her to see.
"Hmm…" she hummed, then spied up at him. "That's a dangerous weapon to wield, especially for someone in your position. Are you certain that this is what you want? It could kill you."
He nodded. "I'm certain."
She blew out a breath. "Well, you did bring two fangs with you… But it will need something more. Something infused with meaning. Something symbolic of your purpose."
Glancing back, he looked at the mask bound in the vise.
"No, that hasn't experienced battle. Its symbolism is superficial and untested."
Their gazes drifted away from the mask to the end of the table. There lay his crowbar, still bent in half.
"That's what you need."